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“Oh, the audacity of men to doubt a woman’s capacity to endure pain and discomfort.”
Cameron sighed softly, and suddenly he was on the move, walking around the table. He placed himself behind me. “You’re making this really hard, darling,” he said, and before I could process his comment, his palm landed on my thigh. Strong fingers wrapped around my leg, slid down to my knee. He lifted my now numb limb, letting my foot fall on something. That warm, large hand pressed gently, his body coming slightly over mine with the motion. “Quit looking at me all soft and sweet and focus on pressing the pedal with your foot, yeah?”
His fell on my temple. “You shouldn’t be disrupting my train of thought this easily, either.”
“Please don’t stop on my behalf. I’m rather enjoying this.” I looked over my shoulder, finding him with the amused expression I expected from his tone. “Always happy to hear about how my misfortune amuses you.” He sobered up. “It doesn’t,” he countered, his gaze going up and down my body. Swiftly but thoroughly enough to make me pause. His throat worked. “It’s you who amuses me, Adalyn. And I can’t even figure out exactly why. Which bothers me. And fascinates me.”
“What else do you think of me?” I asked, nudging her shoulder with mine. Something came over me. Something caused by the turmoil inside. I lowered my voice. “Anything that keeps you awake at night?”
“But I didn’t ask you to come for me.” My throat went tight with the words. “You never need to ask, love.”
“You really need to stop picking me up like that.” “I’d rather not,” he countered in a serious voice before planting me on a stool at the kitchen island. He turned around and produced a small pillow. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean, you’d rather not?” He wrapped a hand around my legs—one single hand—lifted them up and placed them on the pillow he had set on a second stool. “Cameron,” I hissed. “You really have to stop that.” “Go ahead and tell me why,” he said, ignoring me and coming to my back. I sensed his head closing in, his chin touching my shoulder. “I’m sure there’s some
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“You need to stop looking at me like that, love.” My eyes snapped right back to his face. Ada darling. Love. That smile on his face again. I couldn’t keep up. “I was not looking,” I whispered, cheeks flaming. “You were, and my ego fucking loved it.” He braced his hands on the island and leaned forward. “Other parts of me, too.”
“You were looking at me the way you are now. Just like that. I didn’t want it to end.” His words were soft, barely a whisper. “Like what?” “Like I’m something precious. Worth looking at.” His face fell. “Why would you think otherwise?” “Because no one ever looks at me that way.”
In a heartbeat, his arms were moving around me and he was picking me up. My cheek fell onto his chest. Cameron smelled like rain. Hard work. I closed my eyes. “I could get used to this.”
“You want to play, love?” His voice had a dark edge to it. His fingers flexed. “You want a man that won’t run away scared? A man that’ll leave his bloody skin in the game?” My heart tripped. “I’ll be your man, then.”
“I… You’re smiling really big.” Something took flight in my chest, and I made myself ask. “Why?” “Because you’ve just given me a reason.” “A reason for what?” “To play the longest game I ever have.”
I took two steps before turning. Cameron was still looking at me. He hadn’t moved. “I wouldn’t hate it, you know?” I told him, and he frowned. “I wouldn’t hate it if you were the one slaying my dragons for me.”
“But I’m all layered up,” I croaked. This couldn’t be all that attractive. Or appealing. “I’m the outdoors version of an onion. You insisted. How can you find this… attractive?” Cameron let out a dark chuckle. “Would it be so terrible if having you warm and safe makes me hard?”
“I don’t think we want to bring Jesus into this particular conversation, mi reina.”
“You are all I can see,” he told me, his words falling right on my lips. “Even when I close my eyes, you’re all I see.”
“I’ll always give you more than what you ask for, love. Even when you don’t know what you want.”
He cupped my face. “I see you, Adalyn.” His other hand joined, and the shirt he’d been holding fell to our feet. “I goddamn see you, love. But you finally opening up like that for me? It makes it impossible for me not to crack open in return.”
“And how would you do that?” “Treating that side you hide,” he said against my mouth. “I want to spoil it rotten, just because I can. I want to bury you in pillows when you’re cold and carry you to my bed in my arms every night. Kissing you hard when we bicker and reminding you just how crazy you make me.”
“I’m going to knock down every wall left standing,” he said against my ear, his other hand moving, climbing up my side, and taking the fabric of my sweater and shirt with it. “And once I’m inside,” he rasped, the pads of his thumbs reaching the underside of my breast. He moved his fingers over my bra, roughly, desperately. “I’m going to bury myself so deep into you”—he brought the lace down, making my breast topple out—“that you won’t be able to tell where you end and where I start.”
“Don’t you think I know?” He huffed, and that’s when I knew he was breaking. Cameron was breaking down. “I know you don’t need me, or anyone else. I know you’re more than okay on your own. Jesus, Adalyn, that’s what pushes me to want to guard you like a goddamn dog.”
Because with Cameron, I didn’t know loneliness. With him, my sharp edges didn’t matter, I was loved and appreciated and cherished not in spite of them but because of them. And I couldn’t have been happier. Luckier. Loved him any more. I reminded him every day. Every night. Every chance I got.
