For the Plot (All for Love, #1)

by Katie Van Brunt

I’ve seen plenty of women before, just none as breathtaking as the one standing before me. Hayden’s pretty in the traditional sense, but Josefine is just—

“Truth or Dare?” “I told you I don’t like that game,” I say. This time, my words are smoother, more subdued. “Answer me,” she challenges, her tone fierce. “Dare.” I can’t handle any more truths tonight. “I dare you to fuck me.”

“You know what?” My nostrils flare. “Fuck you.” He jerks at my harsh words and his mouth drops open. I said what I said. I’ve been a coward for too long, and I refuse to be that girl any longer. “Don’t pretend like you’re some goddamn gentleman now.” My blood is boiling. “Not when you were pulling my hair and spanking my ass not twelve hours ago.” “Jesus—” he starts, eyeing our driver. His ears go pink and his eyes are wide.

“Thank fuck I’ll never see you again, Cameron. Good luck with your boring career and future pearl-wearing, vanilla wife

Hayden hated when I’d go down on her—said it was weird and unnatural. And she never liked dirty talk, like it disgusted her. But Joey? She reveled in it. I haven’t felt that good in bed in I don’t know how long. Maybe ever? And it’s not just because of the orgasm. We connected in a way I’ve never experienced. And maybe in another life—if she were older, if we lived in the same part of the country—we could have something. But that isn’t the case, so it’s time to let it go and focus on what’s in front of me. Joey’s words worked their way into my skin like a tick. Do what makes you happy. Life is more fulfilling that way.

Man, I really screwed things up. Why did I have to open my mouth and tell her I regretted our night together? It’s the farthest thing from the truth. If the last twenty-four hours has taught me anything, it’s that life doesn’t always need to be planned to be beautiful. I may have just met the girl of my dreams, but I’ve royally fucked it up, and now I’ll never see her again.

I wish I could say the end of my year-long relationship with Hayden was the cause, but in reality, a single night with Joey is what broke me. I’ve gone on dates since the cruise from hell, but anytime I attempt to take things to the bedroom, all I see—and hear and feel—is Joey, and I back away before the belts even come loose.

If I said I haven’t thought about Cam over the last year, then I’d be a big fat liar. For weeks, I carried him with me. Not only did he bury his very large dick inside me that night, but he buried his soul inside me too. I let myself mope around for precisely one month before I shoved the memory of him in the metaphorical garbage disposal. There was no point in pining over him. After I decided to put him out of my mind, grieving the loss of my long-term relationship with Tyler and building a new life for myself in New York City mostly kept me from thinking about Cam’s perfect pecs and toned ass. Even if I wanted to look him up, I wouldn’t know how. We didn’t share last names or exchange contact

“I ought to bend you over this bar and teach you a lesson for trying to make me jealous like that.” His breath is hot against my ear. I knew he was the bend-you-over type, dammit.

“You’re right,” I begin. “I was an asshole. I never should have said what we did was a mistake.” I run my fingers through my hair. “It didn’t take me long to realize that I said those things to protect myself. Finding out Hayden cheated on me fucked with me. But holding on to the memory of you—of us, our night—for the past year and knowing I’d never see you again fucked with me even more.”

“I just feel this pull toward her, you know?”

“A year ago, I was planning a life with Hayden. Then, in an instant, that blew up in my face. But when the smoke cleared, this drop-dead-gorgeous girl was splayed out before me, and I haven’t been the same since.”

“What are you going to do?” I pull the hat off my head and run my fingers through my hair. “Charm the fuck out of her.”

God, I want to be all the way in with this woman. But not just physically. She’s already in my soul. It’s wild, I know, and I can’t explain it. I want all the strings, but for now, I’ll take anything she’s willing to give me.

“Okay.” I keep my voice neutral, calm. “If we’re going to do this, is there anything else I should know?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I have a major praise kink. And I like to be thrown around, but I also like to be in charge. That cool with you?”

Women should feel empowered in the bedroom, not ashamed. And life’s too short to have terrible sex.

Damn. I love to take control in the bedroom, but a guy who knows what he wants is hot as hell.

“I see the way he looks at you.” That gets my attention. It’s my turn to prop my elbows on the table. “How does he look at me?” “Like you’ve changed his life.”

(rule number one of taking nudes: never show your face)

When there’s no immediate reply, I switch to my Kindle app. The world may be scary and weird and overwhelming at times, but I sure do love living in an age where I have access to books on my phone.

“I can hear you thinking.” Joey turns, one brow raised. “Care to share with the class?” I blow out a long breath, considering how to put into words the inner workings of my brain. If only I could just blurt I want more than just sex. Stay on this island with me. You can write and I can take pictures and we can forget about everything else.

“What’s the thing you and Brooks are always saying?” she asks. My chest expands and warmth unfurls when I think about Brooks and our writing sessions. “For the plot?” “Yeah, that.” She waves a hand like Vanna White at the vacationers milling around us. “How much plottier is this?” “True.” I split a smile. “But ‘for the plot’ is typically reserved for turning inconvenient moments into positive experiences. Like the subway unexpectedly shutting down or breaking a heel on the sidewalk.”

“Yes, I’ll be your good boy,” I utter with a shaky breath.

He wants to bring us back to New York, like a souvenir. He may have mentioned it a time or two. But I made a commitment to myself. To my writing career. And I won’t let a man distract me. No matter how big his dick is.

I want to tell her that I haven’t been able to shake my thoughts of her. That I burned with jealousy when I pictured another guy holding her at night. That I can’t shake the ache behind my ribs each time I think about wrapping my arms around her and holding her until morning. I want to tell her that I get drunk on dreams of her every night and wake up feeling hungover. I can’t get you out of my fucking brain, I want to scream. Instead, I keep my words under lock and key. I’m not giving up, but I won’t push her. Not right now, at least.

I never answered when he asked why I was wearing his shirt. My first instinct was to lie and say because my clothes were already packed, but neither of us would have believed that. The truth is, I haven’t been able to shake thoughts of him. Our time in Greece has left a stain on my soul. So when I found myself sleeping in his bed, I swiped a shirt from his drawer and wore it like I had on the nights we were together in Greece.

“I don’t know what to call this thing between us, but whatever it is, it feels good, and I want more of it. Don’t give me bullshit excuses about independence. You can do whatever the fuck you set your mind to. That’s been obvious to me since the moment I met you. I don’t want to be your knight in shining armor. You don’t need one. And I’m nothing like the dipshit you wasted all that time with. I will not hold you back. I will support you in whatever capacity you need. Didn’t you read my letter? I want to be your hype guy. Please, let me be that for you. Don’t you want to see where this goes? I’m not asking you for forever; I’m just asking for right now.”

As I unpack my suitcase, I discover a white envelope tucked under a cover-up. The blue stamp at the top left corner reads Atlas Luxury Resort and Spa; my name is scrawled in the middle. I turn the envelope over in my hand. Written on the back is a quote, one I already recognize from his favorite book. The one that says that everything that happens once can’t ever happen again, but if it happens twice, it’ll happen a third time. My heart stutters. We met last year. That’s one. Then we were thrown together a second time. And last night? That was our third. Or am I stretching to make truths out of nothing?

Five minutes later, after having read the most encouraging letter of my life, and wiping the tears from my eyes, I reach for my phone. Me Hi. Thanks again for breakfast. It was delicious <drooling face> Also… my answer is yes

I promised I’d give us a chance, and I meant it—no matter how nervous it makes me. Courage is being scared and doing it anyway, right?

others. I hope I can find a way to reciprocate. I say I’m a feminist, and fuck the patriarchy and all that jazz, but if someone offers to carry my bags, I’m going to pack extra shoes and shout, “Here you go!”

“I’m scared, Mills. I’m scared of what might happen between us. When I think about a partner, Cam’s everything I’d want.”

My chest tightens at the memory. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about that session. “She said that when we’re driving toward our destination in the dark, even with the headlights on, we can only see a few yards in front of us.”

“Anything beyond the headlights is dark. We can’t see whether there’s a bridge ahead,

and we can’t tell if the road will be closed. We don’t know yet. But despite the uncertainty, we keep driving.” “That’s right,” she agrees. “We don’t know what’s at the end of the road, but we look out our window and embrace the journey. One step at a time, boo.”

He copied down a quote from The Alchemist. The line about fear of failure preventing us from achieving our dreams. I used to think the fear of failure was only reserved for one’s career. But Cam is showing me that there’s more to life than just what I do. Who I do life with is just as vital. I think about my dad and how he would hate seeing me hold back because I’m afraid. “Embrace the journey,” Millie said. One step at a time. Maybe this thing with him is worth the risk after all.

We haven’t even known each other long, but it’s been clear to me since the moment I saw her in Greece again this spring that this is exactly how my life is supposed to unfold. It’s fate.

I’ve respected her wishes and let her keep me at a distance, but I’m done with that shit now. I want more. I deserve more. And she does too—she’s just too afraid to ask for it. When we were on the dance floor, her soul and mine were speaking. I’ve never felt so attuned to a person as I did in that moment.

And I want to be there for you. I want to do this. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you. Let me choose you.”

“I love you.” He goes rigid for an instant, then angles back, fixing his wide-eyed expression on me. There’s a fierce sort of sparkle glinting in his irises. “What?” Draping my arms over his shoulders and threading my fingers at his nape, I pull him close, until his lips hover over mine. “I love you, Cam,” I breathe.