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12
Willow
Camdyn MacKenzie is my slice of heaven in this cold, dark world. If heaven was where all your hedonistic dreams come true. I jump when the yacht’s engine kicks into gear. The powerful vessel sails over the rippling surface into open water.
With his hands curled firmly over my throat, Camdyn presses his lips across the length of my jaw until he reaches my earlobe. “Who?”
I smile. “My ex-lover.” Stay in your lane, Cam.
A blaze of jealousy ribbons the muscles beneath his jaw. He hefts a heavy laugh. “I don’t believe it.”
One powerful hand clamps my throat, and a red haze descends over my eyes. Oh yessss. The other tugs at a few of my locs, moving my face into an impossibly uncomfortable position. Camdyn’s mouth attaches to mine. Our tongues war. My moans and groans become heavy. His palm brands my throat, fingernails biting and tattooing the soft skin at the nape of my neck.
“Tell me the truth, Lolo.”
This sick fuck will not pull the strings of my body and watch me break. “Why do you sound Scottish sometimes and not—” Dark spots pop in my vision when Camdyn constricts my throat.
“When I’m fecking pissed, lassie, the Savage Scot in me creeps out. I’m tryna leash ‘em for you.”
Just looking into his eyes, I’m ready to eradicate every relationship I’ve known and loved. Fuck the bridges. Ash could descend around us.
Spine shivering, I tease, “I love . . . the sound of your voice.”
Camdyn smiles. It’s wolfish, predatory glory. I suck in air while his dick pierces the inside of my thigh. The shield of his khakis is the only obstacle as I’m damn near naked. Flicking his tongue over my lips a last time, he moves down. I gather purchase on my elbows.
Camdyn slides the thin, golden material from over my breasts. A gentle breeze whispers over my taut nipple. He licks the hard bud while I tense, holding onto the last thread of sanity. I hadn’t meant to tell him how sexy his accent sounds. But his voice does something to me. Shit, everything about him is my kryptonite.
A gasp lurches from my throat. Camdyn’s teeth sink into the same spot he’d licked and stroked with the flat of his tongue. He demands, “Who?”
I’m courting disaster. He’s a combination of angel and demon, kissing and biting. He coasts over my belly button, vamp clamping the small patch of skin. His mouth sends my mind reeling, and my hands grasp at the pillows on the lounger. My body attempts to lurch up, but his hand anchors my throat. This time, we’re both tortured by his inquiry. “The feck . . .”
Fear juts down my spine as he continues his leisurely lick, thrust, and bite survey of my body. He pushes my legs wide.
“Wait—wait—” Will he zombie nibble my pussy lips? “Camdyn, wai—”
Threading the golden string of my bikini bottom in his hands, Camdyn looks me in the eye. “Don’t fecking believe I can’t rip this off ya, Willow. Who’s Doctor Eaton to ye?”
“What will you do if I keep lying, Cam?”
He unloops his hands from around my throat. Dammit, I was begging for pain. In my hurt, I recall nothing aside from him. The twisted cork of a half-smile tells me he’s aware.
“If I ask again, it’ll be me who kills you.”
Gawd, his threatening my life—hypnotic. I weigh my options. Thad suggested associating with Clan MacKenzie was . . . well, I suppose beneficial to him as a defense attorney.
To me?
I haven’t the slightest idea. But I’ve been so wrong.
I mumble, “None of your—”
The world as I know it gets tossed off-kilter. I’m thrown on my face, sea salt air caressing my ass. Camdyn’s palm swats my rear. Fire ignites across both my ass cheeks, and intense embarrassment climbs the length of my neck.
“Fu—”
“Shhhh, you say feck, you’re gonna make me think that’s what you want, Willow. As I gather,” he flips me back over, mounting me, and running his finger up my trembling bellybutton, “this is the body of a gorgeous virgin. Skittish as feck. You haven’t been touched. Now, lie to me again, Willow.”
His strawberry blond hair jostles around. Salted air mists around us. Again, I’m compelled to cut his head off and place it on the body of the good guy next door. His vicious tattoos speak as many volumes as his tensed body.
