Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(60)
“Can we do it like this?”
“Please,” she sighed, needing to feel him inside her and knowing that if he entered her from behind, it would be the deepest he’d ever been.
Margaret leaned forward, flattening her palms against the tiles under the shower nozzle, whimpering as he reached down to line up his body with hers. His hands slid around to cup her breasts again, gently this time, almost teasingly, as his hardness slid effortlessly between her thighs, moving forward inch by swollen inch until he was lodged completely inside her.
“Cam,” she moaned, covering one of his hands with hers and massaging her own breast with him, as the hips she’d watched dancing in her kitchen last weekend began a slow, almost torturous, rhythm. Pressing, rotating, thrusting, withdrawing. The overwhelming sensations of his hands on her breasts and his velvet heat buried deep inside her body—the warm water, their slick bodies and four days of deprivation—made her orgasm build quickly.
Her breathing was erratic as he thrust harder, and she heard a voice crying, “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGod,” until she lurched forward, pressing both hands against the slick tiles as a scream ripped from her throat and she succumbed to the blissful waves of pleasure that overtook her sated body.
Cameron came with her, one arm tightening around her waist, his other hand gripping her breast almost painfully. He bent over her body, panting by her ear, telling her that he loved her and always would. And then he dragged in a deep breath and withdrew from her body, turning her around in his arms and gathering her against his chest.
“I love you,” he sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so freaked-out.”
Margaret panted softly, her breasts pushing into him with every breath, the warm water saturating her hair as Cameron ran his hands gently up and down her back.
Without pulling away from him, she raised her forehead from his chest to meet his eyes. There were flecks of water caught on his black lashes, and her heart throbbed with such tenderness for him, it almost took her breath away.
“You can freak out,” she said, “but don’t check out. Don’t be so worried about my safety that you forget to love me.”
“I could never, ever forget to love you, Meggie. I’d sooner forget how to breathe.”
“In theory, I know that’s true. But we’re still new, and I’ve felt weirdly alone over the past few days. Disconnected. Even though you were here, you weren’t here,” she said, pressing his palm to her heart. “I missed you.”
Cameron cupped her cheeks with his hands. “I understand. I was just . . . I’ve been worried. I’m sorry, baby.”
“I know it’s only because you care for me, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like feeling distant from you. I want you present. With me. Even when things are bad, I want to be your partner, not your project.”
He leaned forward to press his lips to hers. “Agreed. Partners.”
She took a deep breath, feeling better than she’d felt in days. And apparently Cameron felt better too, because she felt him thickening against her belly.
“Now that you’re present, partner,” she said, arching her back to cradle his erection, “how about round two?”
***
The past few days had been hell for Cameron. Not knowing what evil force wanted to harm Margaret ate at him. Not knowing how to best protect her plagued him. The thought of losing her was agonizing, and the memory of her hair in a pool of blood was impossible to forget. Although she wouldn’t discuss the possibility of her father or Shane meaning her harm, Cameron wasn’t able to cross them off his mental list of suspects and had two PIs shadowing their every movement. So far? Margaret was right. Nothing they were doing seemed suspicious.
Well, mostly nothing.
Shane Olson, whom Margaret suspected had unfinished business with her sister, Priscilla, was spending an awful lot of time at Forrester this week, specifically when Mr. Story was working late hours at the office. Because Pris was the only Story family member in residence, it was little mystery whom he was visiting. But why? Were they involved? Lovers? Friends? Cohorts? Though extremely curious, Cameron had to grudgingly admit it seemed unlikely at this point that Shane was involved in Margaret’s attack. This was a shame because Cameron’s fists had been longing to connect with Olson’s face for quite some time.
After the shower to end all showers, Margaret had asked him to accompany her to the vineyards, and though he’d just as soon keep her in bed all day, he couldn’t resist her smile or the sassy way she’d declared she’d be going with or without him.
He dressed quickly and headed downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee. And that’s when it occurred to him: the FedEx package that he’d placed on her kitchen table on Sunday morning was missing. In fact, after the attack on Margaret, he’d never seen it again. Had she opened it? Moved it? No. She’d been asleep when he put it on the table.
Cameron stood against the kitchen counter, putting pieces together in his head, the answer to a massive riddle just out of reach.
“Meggie,” he called up the stairs. “You want coffee?”
“Please.”
He poured her a cup, still puzzling over the missing package and wondering if it was somehow related to the attack. When Margaret appeared at the kitchen doorway, he grinned at her because no matter what was going on in his life, the sight of her would always make his heart soar.