My strides are long and brisk. As soon as the cabana is within sight, I see the door isn’t completely shut. My instinct, once again, is spot-on. Grinning, I tap on the door before entering. “Cam, it’s me.”
“I obviously wanted time alone. So, fuck off.”
Damn. “You’ve got quite the potty mouth these days.” I chuckle. “It’s fucking hot as hell, but I told myself I’d be quiet, so I’m gonna shut up now and just come in. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to act like I’m here, but you need to eat somethin’.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I push the door open, closing and locking it behind me. “Here,” I say, offering her the plate.
Her chin lifts and we’re staring into each other’s eyes, a standoff of sorts. She offers a small smile, which her furrowed brows contradict. Over the years, I’ve memorized her facial expressions, but I’m not sure if she’s glad to see me. Or not. “Thank you, but I lost my appetite a long time ago.”
“You need to eat. Just a few bites. Don’t make me beg more than I already have tonight.”
She’s on the sofa, her elbows resting on her knees, glaring at me. “I thought you said you were going to be quiet.”
Pulling a chair over, I place it in front of her, then sit down. “I said I would be quiet while you ate. If you’re not going to eat, I’m gonna annoy the hell out of you till you do.” I slice a piece of the filet, jab it with the fork, and offer it to her. “Want me to shut my mouth, then open yours.”
Cammie’s lips barely part, close, and then open again. She leans forward, accepting the delicate morsel. Atta girl.
While she chews that, I honor my promise to keep quiet. I cut the rest of the meat into pieces. I inch closer, offering her another bite. She moves closer too. Soon, we’re mere inches from each other. Her warmth, her flowery, sweet scent makes me reposition myself in the chair to keep my raging hard-on at bay. When I notice she has something in the crevice of her lips, instead of offering a handkerchief—like a gentleman would do—I gently brush my finger over the spot. I never said I was a gentleman. Or did I? I don’t care. I just want to touch her, to suck those lips until they’re swollen. I want to taste every bit of her mouth with mine.
I refuse to kiss her again after what happened earlier. I thought she wanted it then, but now, the only way that’s going to happen is if she initiates it or asks for it. But even with that said, there’s no way in hell I’m backing away, giving her any space. I’m staying put right where I am hoping she’ll be the one to beg me to finish what we started earlier.
I follow her eyes as they wander to the framed photo of our families near the entry. She’s standing with her brother, mom, and dad. Violet, my baby sister, and I are in front of Mom and Dad. Those were the good ole days. So good it hurts like a bitch. Her face tightens and her eyes squint. Seeing that picture, that look on her face, works better than a cold shower.
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