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“Blair.” My name sounds like a plea. As if he’s in complete agony. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” I scoot a little closer, thrusting my fingers into the hair at the base of his skull.
“You should probably stop.”
I start to pull my hand away from his hair, but his next words make me pause.
“No. Don’t stop.”
I continue rubbing the conflicted man’s head, enjoying every second of it. He leans into my touch, reminding me of our family dog who is the neediest being I’ve ever known. Remington is a chocolate lab. He’s a giant goofball and so affectionate, he could knock you down in his enthusiasm over being petted.
Cam is giving me serious chocolate lab vibes right now. Though he’s not sweet and goofy like Remy is, he is acting like he’s starved for affection. I’m guessing he probably is.
“Come here,” he finally says, still sounding as if he’s in agony, but I don’t hesitate.
I do exactly as I envisioned, climbing into his lap, curling my arms around his neck, my mouth landing on his. Tonight’s kissing isn’t tentative or exploratory. No, it slides straight into needy territory. My hands are buried in his hair. His hands are on my bare waist. Sliding up my back, pausing when he tears his mouth from mine.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he whispers.
I open my eyes and smile at him. “I’m not wearing much at all.”
“Fuck.” Those hands come around to my front, fingers brushing the underside of my breasts, and I whimper, thrusting my chest out. “I hate this T-shirt.”
“Knox played there.”
“I don’t care. I hate it.” He tugs on the tattered hem, like he wants to rip it from my body.
“Cam.”
“Blair.” He cups the back of my head, holding me in place so he can stare into my eyes. “I told myself to stay away from you.”
Pain filters through my blood. My brain. Why would he tell me that now? When I’m in his arms and I can feel his erection poking me?
“But I couldn’t. I can’t.” His grip tightens, fingers sliding down to curve around my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
That admission took a lot out of him, I can tell. By the raspy sound of his voice and the terrified expression on his handsome face. Big man on campus, Camden Fields, doesn’t express emotions like this.
He’s not outwardly needy. He doesn’t want for much.
Yet he wants…
Me.
Finally.
TWENTY
CAM
I probably shouldn’t have saidany of that to Blair, but fuck it. She deserves the truth. And she looks so pleased by my confession too. The way her eyes lit up at my words, her lush lips curving into a faint smile. She touches my face, her fingers sliding down my cheek, and fuck, I can’t take it when she puts her hands on me. It feels too good.
My entire life, I’ve told myself I don’t need anyone. Just football and myself. I care about my friends. I care about my parents, even though they never showed they cared much about me when I was growing up.
I vowed a long time ago not to be a selfish bastard like my dad, but when you also tell yourself you don’t care about anyone else, you tend to be just that…a selfish bastard. A couple of years ago, I gave into the feelings and told myself it was easier not to care than to care too much. Easier to be an arrogant prick versus an overemotional dickwad.
Staring at Blair’s beautiful face, losing myself in her green eyes, I feel like…
An overemotional dickwad.
