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It was too big, and I tried to slide up the bed to escape it. He followed, relentless in his assault.
“Cameron,” I sobbed. “Please, I want you with me.”
I want you, I thought again.
I want you.
Don’t make me feel this alone.
He lifted his head, his eyes feral as he prowled over me and braced his hands on either side of my head. My body shook with the need for release, and when he kissed me—messy and hard and delicious, I almost toppled over the edge.
He wrenched my leg up against his chest, and the angle had me gasping when I felt him between my legs.
Cameron wasted no time. He took pity on us both because we’d stretched this foreplay out longer than either of us could handle.
With his eyes locked on mine, his jaw tight and his brow pinched in a slight furrow, he wrenched his hips forward in one endless, savage thrust.
That was all it took.
This pleasure—brutally delivered after a slow, steady, tease—was sharp and hot and dangerous, sliced at my body and splintered like a piece of dropped glass. A million little cuts all over my skin, something that grew and grew, until my back arched and my legs tightened and I couldn’t breathe.
When it broke, a tight spiral unfurled in a fierce pulse over my skin, and I tipped my head back and screamed like he promised.
And as the sound echoed through his room, the sound of our bodies chasing it, I realized just how impossible it would be to ever move on from him.
Chapter 24
Cameron
“If you could eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
Still trying to catch her breath, Ivy cracked open her eyes and regarded me warily.
“That’s the first thing you ask after sex?”
With a grin, I reached my hand out, coasting it along the sleek line of her waist until it rested on her hip. My thumb brushed back and forth, and her eyes fluttered shut. When her body subtly arched into my touch, I wondered if she realized she was doing it.
She’d rolled onto her side, hands tucked underneath my pillow, and I pulled the comforter over our lower bodies. Her arms covered most of her chest, but the bottom curve of her breast was visible under her forearm. Because I couldn’t help myself, my hand trailed from her hip back up to her waist until I could graze my knuckles on that soft curve.
Her eyes stayed shut, her breathing uneven at the light touch.
She wasn’t running, wasn’t tugging her clothes on and disappearing, and I found myself wanting to take advantage of that.
“Come on,” I coaxed. “I know you’ve got an answer.”
When she opened her eyes, it was after a long exhale, and they landed unerringly on mine.
What I saw there made my skin heat.
The wariness was gone, and in its place was affection.
“Your mom’s blueberry muffins,” she said wryly.
I laughed. “You’re not going to let me tell her that, are you?”
“What does she put in them?” Ivy asked. “Drugs, right? It has to be laced with something.”
“Wouldn’t put it past her,” I answered. “Sheila always wants us coming back for food.”
