Path of Destruction (Broken Heartland, #2)(63)

Cooper choked on a laugh. “I see.” His stomach tensed under her blatant attention.

Her eyes trailed slowly up his body, lighting him on fire everywhere her scrutiny met his flesh.

“I wish this was one of those moments where I could make you promise not to be mad or that you wouldn’t kick me out after I say what I need to.” She bit her lip and he focused on her mouth, trying to make sense of the words despite the steady hum in his head her perusal of his body had caused.

His dick jerked in his pants, making everything around them go fuzzy as all the blood drained south of his brain.

“Cameron,” he managed to get out despite a painfully dry mouth. “I already know Prescott kissed you after prom. And yet, you’re here. So I can almost guarantee that no matter what comes out of your mouth next, I will not be kicking you out.” More like begging her to stay.

They’d kissed, he’d had his bare hands on several intimate places of her body in a darkened closet, but right then, he wanted to scoop her up and carry her over to his bed, where he could strip her bare and explore every inch of her perfection with the lights on.

Cameron Nickelson wasn’t the kind of girl you just hooked up with—she was the type you got down on your knees for and worshipped.

“Promise?” Her lips formed the word then fell into a soft pout that almost made him groan.

He missed that mouth, missed having her in his arms. The tension was so tight between them he didn’t know who moved first, but before he could answer, their bodies met chest to chest.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “I’m so afraid that you’re going to hate me. God, I hate me.”

He didn’t know if it was the lighting or her eyes were becoming moist. Cooper was confused. His hand slid behind her neck. “Babe, I could never hate you.”

She sniffled and the audible pain she was in cracked against his chest, effectively shattering the reinforced armor he’d put on to protect himself from bending to his need for her.

“You could. And you will.”

A million possibilities raced through his lust-fogged brain. Did she do more than kiss Prescott? Did she punch Ella Jane in the face to get even with him? Even if she had, he was pretty sure EJ could handle herself, so he couldn’t understand the tears.

“Don’t cry, Prom Queen,” he said, giving in to the urge to stroke her hair. “Whatever it is, I bet it’s not nearly as bad as you’ve made it out to be in your pretty head.”

“It’s worse,” she whispered. “And I can hardly believe I’m admitting this, but I’m even going to miss that stupid nickname. We both know I wasn’t the queen of the prom, Brantley.”

He grinned. He had no idea who’d been crowned prom queen because he’d left to chase after EJ. “You were the queen of my prom, sweetheart.”

God, any other time, he’d want to kick himself in the nuts for such a mushy line. But it was true. That night played again and again in his head. Seeing her standing there, glowing and alone in a red dress. Holding her in his arms, her body against his. It had possibly been the single best night of his life. Ever.

The look on her face, the way her entire presence seemed lighter from his praise, he’d compose a hundred of those stupid-ass sonnets his English teacher rambled on about if took the haunted look out of her eyes.

Before he could comfort her any further, she lifted onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. He drank her in greedily, taking her lips and tongue into his mouth until his head swam. Walking her over to his dresser, his hands gripped her waist and lifted. She made a soft noise into his mouth and he accepted it readily. Now perched on his dresser, she wrapped her legs around his waist and held him to her. Her hands danced across his stomach and caressed his chest before landing on his shoulders where she held on for dear life. His fingers threatened to tear through the denim covering her thighs.

Don’t break her, his subconscious scolded him. He tried to ease his grip a bit, but she growled like an angry kitten in protest so he slid his hands roughly up her back.

Cooper drove his tongue into her warm willing mouth, tasting her sweet strawberry lipgloss and minty chewing gum flavor until he was drunk on it.

“Brantley,” she said breathlessly when she pulled back for air.

He panted right along with her. “Yeah, babe?”

“We have to stop. I have to tell you…” Her gaze had fallen to the side and landed on a binder on his dresser. “Where’d you get that?”

His body throbbed from the abrupt turn of events. Backing up a step and running a hand through his hair, he shot a quick glance at the object in question.

“The garbage. You threw it out.”

She frowned and a sharp stabbing pain assaulted his lower stomach.

“In the fall. I threw it out because I didn’t need it anymore. Raquel took over the plans for prom and I—”

“There’s some good stuff in there, Cameron. Stuff you worked hard on. Not to mention a few modeling pictures that some freshman would’ve happily used as jerking material had he found it.” Cooper didn’t mention that the bikini ones had inspired some inappropriate images of his own. “I wasn’t trying to be a creep. It just seemed like you threw it out in the heat of the moment and I thought you might want it back some day. So I saved it.”

His answer seemed to infuriate her for some inexplicable reason. “Some things you can’t save. Do you get that? Some of us are lost causes that you would be better off giving up on.”