Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(42)

“Remember this morning in the lobby?” he asked her.

“Mm-hm,” she murmured, still staring at the musicians on the lawn, a lovely smile playing on her lips.

“Tell me more about how you’re falling for me.”

Her smile burst into a surprised giggle, and she turned to face him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like to hear a little more about that.”

She took a deep breath and smiled tenderly before answering, “You make me feel new.”

“What a perfect f*cking answer,” he whispered, leaning forward to cup her jaw and capture her lips with his.

He leaned over the arms of the seats, hooked his arm around her back, and pulled her closer as the tip of her tongue swiped over the seam of their lips. He groaned into her mouth, licking her tongue, his lips sealing over hers as she wound her arms around his neck.

Their tongues tangled together, and heat shot like a bullet to his stomach, spreading lower to his cock, which hardened, straining against the denim of his pants. He slid his hand back into her hair, and she changed the position of their lips, tilting her head the other way and sucking his lower lip between hers. And f*ck if it didn’t feel so good, he couldn’t help thinking about the other body parts that wanted her lips sucking on them too.

Running his thumb along her jaw, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, listening for her whimper, waiting for the arching of her back and the curling of her fingers against the back of his neck. He trailed his lips slowly down the length of her swanlike neck, lingering just under her ear, where he panted against her skin.

“Let’s go back to the cottage,” she said, her voice breathy and soft, but still urgent.

He nodded, resting his forehead against her neck, his lips close to her throbbing pulse. “Yeah.”

She moved just a little, nuzzling him, opening her throat to him, and he answered her silent plea, pressing hot kisses along the delicate column of her neck until he made his way back to her lips, which he claimed again. Her mouth was open, warm, and wet as he slid his tongue against hers, eliciting a sigh from deep in her throat as her fingers spread into the hair on the back of his head.

“Cameron,” she moaned, her breath ragged and shallow, and he imagined that the muscles deep inside her body were clenching tightly, the way they would if he was buried in her. The thought was so arousing, the reality so completely f*cking necessary, he groaned, biting her lip, wishing they were in his bed, or hers—or f*ck, just anywhere that wasn’t surrounded by people. He tried to pull her closer, but the barrier of the chairs between them wouldn’t allow it, so he forced himself to pull away from her, feeling frustrated and drugged and in deep.

“The cottage,” he panted, staring at her lovely, dazed face.

She nodded, her well-kissed red lips tilting up into a relieved smile. “The cottage.”

He stood up, took her hands, and without a word they left Harrell Reserve behind and made their way as quickly as possible back to The Five Sisters.

***

Margaret’s racing heart slammed against her chest as they half walked, half ran back down the dirt road that separated the two vineyards. This was happening. She and Cameron were going to go back to her cottage, and they were going to . . . going to . . . Oh God, she could barely believe that, after a lifetime of longing, she was finally going to have what she wanted.

He squeezed her hand as they approached the cottage, then stopped and pulled her into his strong arms.

“You’re sure, Meggie?” he asked, his eyes managing to be desperate and restrained at the same time. They seemed to say that, even though it would take a Herculean effort, he would let her go if she said the word.

“I’m crazy about you, Cameron,” she said, smiling as his lips descended on hers, kissing her gently. She felt his relief in the way his hands, which had been fisted on her lower back, unclenched.

He pulled away, smiling at her with such intensity, she was almost blinded by it.

Almost, because she was distracted by something behind him.

The door to her cottage was wide open, and she was sure that after dropping off her box of mementos and grabbing a sweater, she’d pulled it closed and locked it.

“What the . . .?” She wiggled away from Cameron and walked up the path to the door.

“Meggie?”

A pile of shattered glass lay on the threshold. Margaret pulled the door toward her to find that the window on the front of the door had been broken. The offending stone still lay on the ground just inside the door.

Cameron pulled her away from the door. His voice was low and clipped. “Don’t go inside. Get your phone out and stay here. I’ll be right back.”

The heart that had beat with passion and excitement only a few minutes before now beat with fear and anger as Margaret wondered who would have defaced her little home like this.

“Cameron?” she called after a few tense minutes.

“Just coming,” he said, his voice tight and furious.

“Can I come in?”

“Wait a sec, okay?”

When he returned, his face was grim. “No one’s inside. But someone was definitely here.”

She whimpered, placing her hands on her hips and looking up at him. “Why?”

He reached for her. “I don’t know, baby.”

“Can—Can I go in?”