Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(59)
When Cameron had broached the topic of her father or Shane having had some hand in her attack, she made it clear—in no uncertain terms—that neither her father nor Shane was capable of such brutality, and that she wouldn’t even entertain the conversation.
But later, alone in her bed before Cameron joined her, she reconsidered the suggestion with less righteous conviction. Would her father and Shane try to frighten her back to the city? Back into the fold? Hire someone to break into her cottage and even assault her, in order to compel her return? It sickened her that she had even a moment’s hesitation, and she quickly shut down the train of thought, refusing to allow herself to match Cameron’s level of unfounded suspicion.
He would barely let her out of his sight except to go to the bathroom, and she noticed that Shawn and Owen were in outright collusion with him, one of them hovering by the cottage whenever Cameron went to town for an errand. And while she appreciated that Cameron was worried for her safety, she was also frustrated by this imposed house arrest born of love.
Further troubling was that Cameron’s libido, which had been so hungry and delicious last weekend, had been replaced by his worry, by his single-minded need to protect her. No matter how much she rubbed against him in bed, no matter how much he hardened against her, he wouldn’t act on his desires. Whether he was frightened of physically taxing her after her injury, or simply distracted by every tiny, harmless nighttime noise around them, she wasn’t sure.
But by Saturday, she’d had quite enough.
Any dizzy spells she’d suffered on Monday and Tuesday were long gone now, and the pain in her head was more than tolerable, even without Tylenol.
On Saturday morning she woke up as quietly as possible and slithered out of bed, careful not to wake Cameron, and stepped quietly downstairs. She turned on the coffee pot and stepped into the shower, where she was enjoying the quiet morning and basking in the warm water until there came a sudden pounding on the bathroom door.
“Meggie? Are you okay?”
She whipped the shower curtain to the side and yelled at the closed door. “I was! You scared me to death!”
“I woke up and you were gone!”
She heard the mixture of worry and restraint in his voice, and it made her feel annoyed and pleased at once.
“For goodness’ sake, Cameron, I wanted a shower . . . although I would have woken you up if I thought you’d want to take one with me,” she snapped back saucily.
There was a long pause before she heard a softer, more contrite voice ask, “Wait. What?”
Leaving the water on, Margaret stepped out of the shower and opened the bathroom door. She stood in the doorway completely naked, with water beading on her skin and dripping down her body. Cameron’s lips parted, his eyes dropping to her breasts and darkening before looking back up at her face.
“W-what did you just . . .?”
“If you want to be my watchdog, go back upstairs,” she said plainly. “If you want to make love to me in the shower, you’re welcome to join me.”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned around and stepped back into the shower, her heart thundering, her breathing short and shallow, hoping that he would—
The shower curtain was yanked open to reveal a naked Cameron, his erection jutting out from his body, red, hard, and thick. Margaret locked her eyes with his and backed against the wall of the shower, her breasts rising and falling quickly with anticipation and arousal.
His eyes were hungry, almost starving, as he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain shut behind him. Before reaching for her, his eyes skated up to the stitches behind her ear.
“Are you sure you can—”
“I’m sure.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then stop making me wait,” she said softly, reaching out to trace the length of his sex with her fingers.
Cameron flinched and groaned softly as she wrapped her hand around him, starting a slow back-and-forth movement from his base to tip, base to tip, up and down, up and down.
She tilted her head up to look at his dark green eyes. “Kiss me.”
Crushing her against his hard body, he bent his head so that his lips landed flush on hers, dry and warm against her slippery skin. His tongue swiped across her lips, and she opened for him, still grasping the hard length of his sex in her hand. She slid her lips to his jaw and his chin, skimming them down his neck and pushing him gently against the wall as she dropped to her knees and looked up at him. The warm water beat down on her back as she slid her fist to the base of his erection and fit her mouth over the tip.
“Meg,” he growled, and she looked up to see his head fall back against the tiles, one of his hands raking through his jet-black hair.
She licked down the side of his penis, then took him in her mouth again, laving her tongue over the tip, then sucking and releasing with a slight pop. He was thick and long, filling her mouth every time she leaned forward, but he never touched her head, nor forced himself in farther. Only taking what she was willing to give, he groaned in satisfaction, finally leaning down to place his hands under her arms and pull her up.
His lips landed hungrily on hers, his tongue swirling around in her mouth as his hands skated to her breasts, cupping them while his thumb and forefinger played with her hard nipples. Turning her around, his hands still on her breasts, he spoke close to her ear.