The Real(23)

He spared me from talking by telling me a little about his week. He had met a few of his favorite jocks, who were shooting a commercial for a new line of sportswear his stores carried. I wasn’t much for sports, but I was one hundred percent for the man who spoke with childlike enthusiasm about his personal rock stars.

He also told me that he’d started watching Mindhunter—a show about two FBI agents delving into the psychology of murder. I knew my slow building, drool-filled smile looked goofy, but I couldn’t, for the life of me, stop it. He’d taken an interest in something that fascinated me. He kept his tone low, and his deep baritone whisper was as soothing as the hand that covered mine on his chest. The timbre of his voice lulled me into a stupor as I tried to keep my aching and stretched mouth closed. Cameron stroked my fingers delicately as I peered up at him. Head tilted back, I memorized the fullness of his lips, noted a faint white scar at the edge of his temple, and the fan of his dark lashes. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man I’d ever dated.

I found myself needing to make sure that was the case. I wanted more. I was ready. My gut, heart, and my mind, for the first time in a year, were in agreement. And I wanted him to know our relationship had turned into more. I didn’t, for any reason, want it to be less than the beginning of something between us.

Want was quickly turning into need as he cradled me and paused his story to gauge my expression. He had to have seen it all there, but I decided to try to verbalize it anyway. “Cambron,” I whispered.

Thank you for waiting.

You’re so perfect.

I want you so bad.

Does this feel as good to you?

Gently cupping my jaw, he leaned down and spoke, a centimeter from my lips, and addressed my unspoken thoughts. “Me too.” He rubbed his thumb across my lower lip. “I can’t wait to take you away from here, anywhere.” His deep green eyes scoured my features and landed longingly on my mouth as he slipped my beanie off and ran his fingers through the hair at the back of my neck. “And kiss these lips.”

I knew I looked hideous, yet the man was treating me like I was his catnip.

“Okay.”

He chuckled. “Okay.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek then the corner of my mouth.

Content in his lap, my bliss was interrupted by the arrival of my escort home.

“Well, isn’t this the shit. You two look cozy,” Bree said as she approached our table with a warm smile. “Cameron, good to see you. I’ve heard nothing but good things.” Her voice low, and in a playful warning, added, “Keep it that way.”

Her eyes found mine and she winced as she looked at my swollen mouth. “Ouch, babe. Let’s get you medicated and get you home.” She pulled out the prescription I begged her to pick up for me and handed me two pills as she spoke to Cameron. “This stuff renders her unconscious in minutes. We’ll have to make this quick.”

Cameron stiffened beneath me as I popped the pills into my mouth and sipped the water bottle I had on my table. He warily eyed the bottle of pills as I put them in my purse.

Bree noticed his reaction.

“Just a few low dose Percocet to take the edge off,” she assured him. “Let me grab a coffee and I’ll get you home.” I gave her a careless nod, still entranced in willing captivity of the man holding me. I sank further under his spell before waving her away.

All-knowing Bree looked between us as I tried to get myself together. I was sure I looked needy and desperate, like a lovesick teenager curled in his lap.

Zero shits were given as I imagined having lip access to every inch of his skin. I curled my fingers in his crisp shirt, tucking them beneath the seams to touch his skin. He let out a low groan as his amused eyes found mine when we were free of interruption. There was so much light in them. I hoped what I saw was a mirrored reflection of what he could feel from me.

At that moment, I was transparent, and I knew it. I wasn’t doing anything to stop it. I had no fear. I wanted it, wanted us. To belong, not to just a man, but the man who held me. Warmth spread throughout my limbs as my body shuddered with sparked need. The pain was dull in comparison to the reaction of his touch, his words, the look in his eyes.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” he said softly.

“Happy,” I managed to say clearly while my heart pounded inches from his, in an attempt to communicate what it felt.

His eyes closed briefly, and when he graced me with them again, I saw a hint of vulnerability.

“Abbie,” he whispered, his voice strained. My heart crashed against my chest as he bent and placed a barely-there kiss to my parted lips. Fearful of my breath, I shook my head, warning him away. I could taste the copper on my tongue, and I tried my best to clamp my mutilated mouth shut.

“Don’t worry. I won’t take that as our first kiss, either. And you are worth every second of the wait.”

Far too soon, Bree was back with her coffee, and I was forced away from my Cameron cocoon. Reluctantly, he stood, keeping me close as he walked us to the door of the café. My mind was starting to cloud as the pills began to kick in. I was a lightweight when it came to the effects of any medication.

“I’ll text you tonight,” he whispered before he placed a kiss on my temple then gave a warm farewell to Bree.

Our fingers were the last things to separate.





I woke to the sound of a garbage truck, feeling as if said garbage truck had backed up at top speed and dumped its load in my mouth. Flexing my angry jaw, I felt like I was still in a drug-induced haze. I was trying to convince myself to get my lazy ass out of bed when my phone buzzed on my nightstand.