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47
Camdyn
“I’m astonished, American. You’re still somewhat loyal.” At my brother’s malicious bite, I turn around. He’s seated on my gamer chair in my bedroom, twining my iPhone through his knuckles.
Fresh out the shower, I fist the towel around my waist and growl, “Give me that.”
“Or are you keeping my tragedy from Willow until you show her the real you?”
Willow possesses my mind. I was an asshole Saturday—more than the usual. She’s strong-willed, supportive, and refuses to leave well enough alone. We hadn’t spoken a single word to each other on the long drive home. My text to pick her up for school today and the hundreds of other messages throughout the day were read, no reply.
Shoving an anxious hand through my hair, I groan, “What?”
The phone stops roaming over Jamie’s fingers. He leans back in the leather chair, eyes cutting through me. “The real you, who breaks stupid girls. You’ll disclose my past once you’ve done something unforgivable, and you need Willow to soften her heart for you again.”
“Nobody’s ever come between us, Jamie—and I’ll not let any motherfucker try.” My lips curve into a smile. “Albeit, I’m curious. Mom could’ve saved a fortune in therapy and dangled a sweet piece of untouched ass in your face. You’ve blossomed since meeting my Willow.”
“Leave her alone.” He holds out the iPhone.
Taking it, I pinch the bridge of my nose. We had this conversation before.
“My addiction won’t allow me to leave Willow.” And I have feelings for her. “If you want to be normal, like you attempt every day at lunch with my girl, then we can knock back a couple of beers. Otherwise, make your way outta my way, Jamie.”
* * *
The second night breaks across the sky, I’ve climbed the length of Willow’s balcony. At the top, she folds her arms, tapping her pretty toes. Pajama pants stretch over her curves, and a camisole hugs her tits.
“I should’ve known, Camdyn. After avoiding each other all day, you’re here for sex, now. Just because we’ve slept in the same bed since you,” she works down a lump in her throat, “saved me, doesn’t mean the routine’s etched in stone.”
I climb over. “I’m not here for pussy.”
With her eyebrows still glued to her hairline, she tilts her head.
I envy normal fuckers who spit simple lines like, “You make me different.” “I miss you when my fucking arms are folded around you, and we’re sleeping.” All these things are true but would sound ridiculous leaving my mouth.
But while Willow’s offering the silent treatment, I settle for, “You got an attitude. I can get happy pussy elsewhere.” Fuck, all I’m trying to say is I could cuddle with you right now and be just as satisfied.
“Always honest, never refreshing. I’m not in the mood to feel like shit because of you, Cam.”
I advance on her, stopping when her sugary scent infuses into my nostrils. Cam, don’t fuck this up.
“Yeah. Always honest.” Be the normal fucker, Camdyn. Apologize about Saturday night and avoiding her very valid questions. Apologize to her for every day in the past, and future, because you’re a certified asshole, and this is more than an obsession.
“Were you honest about the cocaine, Cam?” Willow’s bottom lip trembles, the moon glinting off her eyes.
I nod. “It’s not an everyday occurrence.”
“For now, I’m an everyday occurrence?” Willow stares up at me, the same longing for passion as any other female I’ve encountered.
This time, I’d rather fucking die than deny her. But something in me is broken. My fingers lazily trail the valley between her breasts while I mutter, “Yup. Every fucking day, sweetheart, three times on Sundays.”
Betrayal brightens her eyes as she snorts. “Until you wear me out.”
“No.” God, I fucking hope not. That’s the very reason I took forever to fuck her.
“I . . . can’t do this.” Her eyes twinkle with unfallen tears. “You don’t care.”
My hand becomes firm over her bicep. I control myself. Her curvy frame is bound tight beneath my touch. If I try to bend Willow to my will right now by way of a hard fuck, I’m sensing she won’t go for it. Not like usual.
