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“I know. Making you mad was entertaining.”
She laughs. “What made you change your mind?”
“When I realized that making you smile is a lot more valuable than pissing you off.”
Camden threads her fingers through mine. Even holding hands with her gets my heart going. It’s enough to rouse a confession.
“Camden, I want us to be close.”
She swallows and she’s blushing now but she doesn’t let go of my hand. She understands. After a deep breath she raises her eyes and says, “I want that too.”
It’s a heated moment, infinitely more prized than a hundred furtive hand jobs. It’s a moment worth waiting for.
I choose my words carefully because the last thing I want to do is push her into doing more than she’s ready for. “There’s no one around at my house today.”
She sucks in her lower lip and considers the idea. “I haven’t seen your house yet.”
“Would you like to?”
She squeezes my hand. “Yes.”
After I leave the waitress a generous tip we have a mile long walk while the sky decides to start dropping more snow on our heads. And even though I feel like kind of a loser for failing to own a car, Camden doesn’t seem to mind walking in the snow at all. She holds onto my arm and admires the random Christmas decorations scattered around our homely little town. All the time I keep staring at her and wondering why it is that every guy in school isn’t falling all over himself to make her his. It’s something I shouldn’t question. I should just enjoy my luck that I’m the one she chose.
“The place needs some work,” I explain as I unlock the front door to the modest two bedroom box I go home to every day. “Landlord lives in Black Mountain and keeps saying he’ll get to it. My mom wants to hold his feet to the fire but I tell her it’s just as well because he might decide to raise the rent.”
I know I can say these things to her, things I would never say to anyone at Black Mountain. Our shoes are wet and slushy from the snow so we kick them off at the front door. She shivers as she looks around the kitchen and sheds her coat.
“The reason why you work at Dee’s so much is to help pay the bills, isn’t it?”
“Afraid so. The insurance office on Cardinal Street where my mom used to work closed last summer. That’s why she took a job at Imogen’s. Doesn’t pay as much, so yeah, she needs a big chunk of my paycheck to make it. Not sure what I’m going to do when baseball season starts. Coach isn’t going to understand if I can’t be at practice every day. My scholarship is tied to baseball.”
I throw my own jacket on the nearest chair and notice Camden has her arms folded across her chest, still shivering. Snowflakes have melted in her hair and the dampness makes it curl slightly. Earlier I was thinking that she looked like an angel. I still think so. She’s my angel.
Camden is still looking around as she follows me to the living room and I wonder if she’s surprised that my house is unlike hers. There aren’t any family photos on coffee tables or sentimental knickknacks.
“You don’t have a Christmas tree?”
“Just didn’t get around to it this year.” I grab a throw blanket from the couch. It’s a dull army green color but it’s lined and it’s warm. I drape it around her shoulders and the gesture pleases her. She smiles and holds the blanket open, inviting me closer. I circle my arms around her waist and deliberately press into her. I’m hard and I want her to know it.
“Are you still cold?” I push my fingers into the back pockets of her jeans.
Her breath hitches and she moves her hands up to my shoulders. “A little. You must be cold too. You kept your jacket open on the walk. Your sweatshirt is wet.”
“You’re right. Maybe I should take it off.”
She fights a smile. “That’s probably best.”
In order to follow through I have to get my hands out of her pants, which is a shame because they were enjoying their situation. In a classic move I reach behind my head and pull off the hoodie. Her eyes go right to my chest and she sighs. The sweatshirt gets tossed somewhere unimportant and Camden drops the blanket in favor of exploring my chest. She’s clearly fascinated, her fingertips studying my muscles, and I’m glad for every brutal minute of work I’ve put in at the gym.
Her lips touch the hollow of my throat and I groan out loud. The pressure in my pants is reaching emergency status and I grit my teeth to keep from seizing her too roughly.
“Are you still cold?” she whispers, leaving a trail of kisses on my neck.
My hands go underneath her sweater, traveling over soft, bare skin until I find the outline of her bra strap. My palms roll to the front and cup her tits through her bra. They are a perfect handful and I’ve been dreaming about them, about what I’ll do when I get them in my hands and in my mouth. I have every intention of bringing those dreams to life in the very near future.
“A little.” I knead her tits in my hands as I say this and she’s dissolving, closing her eyes with a soft moan while grinding her hips into me. If I push a hand down there I’m sure I can get her to come standing up in the living room and it’s a hot idea but it’s not enough. “You want to know something?”
Her eyes flutter open. “What?”
