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“Not at all,” he says, leaning his hips forward and stretching his back. The motion accentuates his long legs, his thick thighs, and he must be smuggling a footlong sub in there, because goddamn. I whip my gaze away, shaking my head. When I see my hands tremble, I know I need a distraction. “So, is Ava always a cunt?”
A look as if he has eaten something sour fills his features as he chuckles. “Yup, she’s been like that since I met her. I think Quinn’s trying to piss Emery off, so he’s with Ava.”
I nod. “Makes sense. She is the exact opposite of Emery.”
“Absolutely. Makes me miss that psycho.”
I can’t stop my grin. I haven’t seen Emery in years, but the first time I met her, she explained to me how to kill someone without leaving a single trace of evidence. I was absolutely terrified. “I guess. I’m sure Quinn will have words with me about calling her a bitch.”
“He better not.”
I furrow my brows. “Huh?”
“If he does, he’ll deal with me.”
My lungs burn for air, but it’s hard to draw any air into them. I ignore my shaking hands as I move my clothes from the washer. Nothing is said, but I feel him watching me. When I go for my last pieces of laundry, he asks, “Why are you doing laundry here?”
“Callie made me. Pretty sure it was part of y’all’s scheme.”
He grins without a lick of bashfulness. No shame whatsoever. Jackass. “Why is there so much?”
“Are you judging me?”
“Not at all. Do you plan on folding everything?” I give him a look, and he grins. “I’ll take that as a no. But for real, why do you have so much?”
I shrug. “The house’s washer is messed up, and I don’t go on campus.”
“I don’t like that,” he says, annoyance visible in the press of his lips. “You should be able to go wherever you want.”
“It’s more me than anyone else. I don’t want to be bothered.”
“I get that.” I load the washer again, and he says, “I can go with you to the laundromat on campus if you want, or you can come to my place.”
I give him a little grin. “You don’t have to go out of your way.”
“But I want to.”
There is that fucking word again. Why does it affect me so? “Thanks, but I should be good for at least two months.”
“Good thing you got me after that, eh?”
My heart does a little tumble. I try to gather my wits about me. “Is there a reason you followed me in here, Benson?”
“Yeah.”
I put in the detergent and look over at him. “And that is?”
“We need to talk, Cameron.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “Then talk.”
“I’m trying,” he admits, pushing off the dresser and stalking toward me. My breath catches audibly, and that wicked smirk on his lips only grows wider. He’s so big, so commanding, that all I can do is press my back into the washer as he angles his leg between mine. Benson’s eyes are so dark, I swear no gray is showing as he traps me between his body and the washer. He brings his arms to rest against the machine, his chest almost pressing into mine as our eyes lock.
“Trying?” I squeak. “Looks as if you’re not trying to talk at all, but rather distracting me from my laundry.”
His eyes hood as his lips part, a rumble of a chuckle leaving him and making me utterly breathless. “Only fair when you distract me just by existing.” My skin feels too tight, and everything south of my head is wholly aware of him.
“What are you doing, Benson?” I whisper as I dig my fingers into the washer’s hard surface.
“Admiring your lips. I was too far away,” he says, dropping his eyes to said lips. “As I suspected, it doesn’t matter how far or close I am, I desperately want to kiss them.”
I press my tongue to the back of my teeth, trying not to rise up onto my toes and take his mouth with mine. I gotta put space between us, but there is no way I can move him. He’s too big, and God, I crave him. I know he would move if I asked, but I don’t want him to move. Words. I need words.
Last-ditch effort. Come on, don’t fall, Cameron.
I hold his gaze, my breathing erratic as I whisper, “No one is around. Why would you want to kiss me?”
The lips I want to suffocate myself with curl up in the most devastating smirk. “Because I fucking want to.”
And without another response from me, his lips take mine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cameron
Benson’s lips feel like coming home.
They are soft, warm, and everything I have spent years trying to forget. He slides his tongue along my lips, and I open greedily for him. God, I want to feel him everywhere, and Benson delivers. His mouth consumes mine. He kisses me like a starving man, like he’s never kissed me before, but that’s not true. He has, plenty, but my God if this doesn’t feel like our first kiss.
