Justice Falling (Falling #3)(31)
Christ! It wasn’t possible to feel this much so quickly. Or was it? All I knew was that having my sweet Camille’s lips on mine, holding her within the security of my arms, I was happy. Not happy as in, “Yeah, I’m happy my team won the game.” or “So happy you got that deposition in on time without any errors.” No this was all over, from the soles of my shoes to the very tip top of my hair, “I’m never going to have anything better than this woman right here,” kind of happy.
The feeling was so new to me, I held onto my woman tighter, never wanting to let her go. Instead of pulling away, she clung to me, nails digging into the skin of my back as I plastered her against me. Finally, I pulled back, gave her a small peck on the lips, gripped her hand and walked towards the theatre.
“Okay, we have a few choices. We can go sweet with Mamma Mia!” She shrugged. “We can go tough with Rocky.” I punched the air playfully and watched her nose crinkle, immediately knocking that off the list. “Or, we can go sexy with Chicago.” I waggled my eyebrows. She gave a coy smile. “Chicago it is!” I said with a laugh. Her eyes lit with excitement, and she did the cutest thing I had ever seen. She jumped up into the air and spun around, her green dress flowing around her in a cloud of color. My God the woman was ethereal.
“I take it you like that idea?”
She hugged me tight and kissed my cheek. “I’m so excited!”
If she had that response to everything we did, I would go a long way towards planning outings as often as our schedules allowed. I wanted nothing more than to see that smile adorn her beautiful face and those emerald eyes alight with glee. Knowing I put that look there made me feel like a king.
We got our tickets, sat at the bar, and had a couple cocktails prior to the show. We were early, but she didn’t mind. Camille was perfectly content to sit and talk with me the entire hour before the show started. My girl wasn’t high maintenance and went with the flow. I was beginning to believe she was the perfect woman.
We held hands, and I made a point to touch her throughout the show. Nothing overt or unsavory, just a sweep of my thumb along her bare neck, a tickle to the knee, a kiss to the ball of her shoulder. It was refreshing to be giddy and enjoy a show with a woman. No pretenses, no ulterior motive, just being myself while out with the world’s most beautiful woman. And she was just that. Beautiful. In all the ways that mattered most. Camille was kind, laughed a lot, sweet and innocent in so many things. I felt a roaring sense of protectiveness coupled with an overwhelming desire to expose her to all the wonderful things she’d never experienced.
When the cast took their bows, I watched her profile. Her smile was the biggest I had seen yet. She clapped so loud and hard I worried she’d bruise herself.
“What did you think?” I asked as we made our way out of the theatre.
“What did I think?” She grabbed her skirt with one hand, my hand in the other and swung them both, almost skipping down the street. “It was incredible. Amazing. Wonderful. Sad. Exciting. Sexy. Oh, just everything!” she beamed. She was happy, alight with joy. I wanted to capture this moment. With great stealth, I pulled out my phone, tugged on her hand, aimed, and, when she turned around, I clicked. Her multicolored waves were flowing around her face, her cheeks were a rosy red, lips a bit swollen from the kiss I’d stolen in the dark at the end of the show, and her eyes were shining. She was a goddess.
“Not fair! My phone doesn’t have a camera,” she pouted.
“What? All phones have cameras!” I scoffed.
She shook her head. “Not mine. Mine is just for calls and text. No frills, but it works just fine.” She patted her purse as if petting the head of her most trusted furry friend.
“Where to now?” she asked as I put my arm in the air at the edge of the street. Before too long, a yellow duckling pulled to the edge of the street. We entered the taxi, and I held her near.
“My flat. I’m going to cook for you,” I whispered then nuzzled the side of her cheek, trailing my nose along the fine column of her neck. Her scent was strongest here and I adored it.
“You’re taking me to your house?” Her tone clearly expressed trepidation.
“Precious, nothing that you don’t want to happen will happen. I assure you.”
She took a deep breath. “No, I trust you.” She turned her head and her eyes captured mine. The green around her irises were as dark as the sun, setting over the city landscape. “I want you to cook for me…and, possibly more.” The last part was a whisper. I heard every word. My prick tightened in my jeans, and I moved to adjust.
I took a deep breath and stared into her eyes. “I will cook for you. You will eat, drink and if it feels right…we’ll consider more.”
She smiled and leaned in for a kiss. I let her control this kiss, forcing myself not to burrow my hand into her hair and crush her to me. I wanted her to know that I valued her trust and that even though I wanted to shag her more than I wanted my next meal, I’d wait for her to be ready. When it happened, everything would change. I could only hope it changed for the better.
Her lips held mine, and her little tongue shot out and licked my bottom lip. I opened my mouth in a groan. She took advantage, tentatively dipping in for a taste. She was delicious. Tasted of almond and cherries from the mixed amaretto she drank earlier. It made me so thirsty I wanted to drink from the well that was her kiss all night long. Camille deepened the kiss moving closer to my body until she was practically sitting in my lap. I didn’t mind. The more of her touching me the better. Her tongue danced along mine, a sensuous tango with little flicks and nips of her teeth to accentuate her desire.