Justice Falling (Falling #3)(12)

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. Those beautiful green eyes turned dark, smoky with anger.

“I was in a few homes during those years. I went to three different high schools. I had to keep moving around.”

“Why so often?” When she looked at me, I was floored by the heartache I saw in her features. A huge wall lifted in front of her. I clasped both of her hands across the table. “Camille, tell me. Let me in.”

Her eyebrow rose in defiance. “Once the schools figured out I was being mistreated by the foster parent, social services would come in and pull me from the home. I’d get evaluated for abuse, and moved to the next home. This happened three times in a row.”

“Christ, Camille. What type of abuse? They didn’t…” I couldn’t even stomach saying it. Thinking it alone was like a poison to my soul bringing a violent emotion I wasn’t prepared for. A hatred so thick and strong it ran through my veins and filled them with the need to fight. A powerful sense to maim and harm anyone at the mere suggestion that someone could hurt this woman consumed my current thoughts.

“No. I wasn’t sexually abused. Not really. One of the teenage boys tried to get at me once, but one of the other foster kids pulled him off me. I got a really bad beating that night by the foster Mom for ‘lying’ about her son touching me. She pulled down my pants and whooped me with a belt in front of her son. She didn’t realize he was stroking himself while she did it.”

“Fucking cock sucking wankers…”

She smiled and squeezed my hands. “Let’s not talk about this. My childhood wasn’t the best, but I survived. I’m alive, and I’d rather spend my time enjoying lunch with you than talking about the past. There’s no sense in hashing out something that won’t ever change.” For such a young woman, she was incredibly wise. “How about you tell me something about yourself. What do you love?”

“Aside from my work and my family?”

“Of course, silly. Work is something you do for a living. Family is something you’re born loving. What else are you passionate about?”

I steepled my fingers and watched her eat. Camille was incredible. She just shared something unbelievably private and painful, yet she was not dwelling on it. “I love to swim. I try to swim just about every night.”

The harshness in her features loosened up with the change in conversation. “Really? Where? Like at a gym?”

Damn she was sweet. So sweet I wanted to take a bite out of her. “No, there’s a pool in my building.”

“What do you like about it?”

“The freedom, the sense of balance I get after I’ve pushed my body to the limit doing laps. Floating on the surface after is a very calming experience. You? What do you do when you’re not at work?”

Her eyes went wide, and she lost the grip of her water glass. It crashed down to the table. She barely caught it after spilling water across her lap. She jumped back, but a salad plate-sized wet circle bloomed across her skirt. I threw my napkin on her lap and helped to pat it dry. Once I’d sopped up most the water, I looked up into her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her lips a breath away from mine. I knew in that moment I could kiss her, and she’d allow it. Welcome it even. Instead I backed away and took the gentleman’s route. There’s was plenty of time for that. Now was for wooing.

“So, you were going to tell me what you do outside of work.” My voice was husky and deep when I reiterated my question. Again her body stiffened. She didn’t like sharing information about her daily life. Somehow, I think she shared the information about her past to avoid speaking about her present.

She swept that errant lock of deep brown hair back around her ear. “I’m taking online classes.”

That surprised me. “Really, like Uni classes?”

“Uni?” she asked.

I laughed. “University. Sorry, love.”

“No it’s fine. I like your accent. It’s…” She looked down and away.

“Eyes, Camille.” She lifted those beautiful greens back up and they were now a mossy green, darker around the edges. “It’s what?”

“It’s sexy,” she whispered so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.

“You think so?” I cocked a brow for effect, loving that she found something about me attractive.

“Yeah.” She nodded, and that pretty pale skin of hers turned a rosy pink.

“I’m glad.” I grinned, she blushed. So lovely. “What are you studying?”

She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. I so had the bird in the palm of my hand. I preferred to have her arse in my hand, though. She reacted to me. Responded beautifully. I could tell she tried not to, but it was useless. There was a connection between us, and I’d be damned if I was going to let her deny it.

“I’m taking courses to get my bachelor’s degree so I can teach.”

That was it. She was too good to be true. A sodding teacher? Perfection and innocence wrapped in a gorgeous package. Everything I should never be allowed to have but desperately wanted. “Such a noble profession. Teaching our youth. What grade level?”

It was enchanting, seeing her eyes light up. “Grammar school. Anything between first and sixth grade would be ideal. I think I do really well with the little ones.”