Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
He doesn’t hate me, that’s for sure. There have been times, especially at first, when I wasn’t sure. I’d find him staring at me with his perpetual frown on his face and think he was about to escort me to the front door right then and there. But other times, more recently especially, he smiles and laughs at my and Grace’s silly antics, and he does seem to be a fan of my backside. Still, I didn’t think it’d gone beyond tolerance, or maybe mild appreciation of my amazingness. I certainly didn’t think a single one of those frowns or glares was because he wants me and is holding himself back.
“Wow,” I breathe, staring at him wide-eyed. “I had no idea.”
Looking furious, but I’d bet it’s mostly at himself, Cameron tries to get up, effectively running away from what he’s just said. I grab his arm, holding him in place. “Oh, no, you started this with all your ‘let’s talk like adults’ bullshit. No jumping off the roller coaster mid-ride after the first scary drop. We’re in this now.” Thankfully, he does remain sitting, though he’s gritting his teeth like he can barely stand to be this close to me.
“Riley.” I think he intends it to be a scold, but it comes out a plea. The heat in his eyes has electric tingles shooting through my whole body, and when his gaze drops to my lips, I even wonder if he might give in and kiss me. It’d be completely unlike him, but I want it anyway. Hell, maybe that’s why I want it? I stand by my usual desire for those around me to be predictable, but to be the woman who gets a man like Cameron to break through his self-imposed prison would be a heady, addictive power.
I can even feel it in my mind, him taking control while simultaneously losing it. His lips, so often pressed into a hard line, going soft as they work over mine. That sexy rumbling deep in his throat this morning, I want more of that. I want his hands on my body—my face, my breasts, my clit, filling me. I want that big, thick dick I felt against my ass this morning—in my mouth, my hands, my pussy.
I can feel the kiss about to happen, like it’s buzzing in the cold air between us, so palpable that I lick my lips in preparation. I watch the war waging inside him and wonder what will win—his integrity or his lust. His head or his heart. Or more specifically, his mind or his dick.
I want to find limits and I’ve found Cameron’s. I could push him further, see what happens on the other side of his control, but I think we’d both pay a price for that. He’d beat himself up, and that’s not what I want. I shouldn’t get my way at the expense of his getting his. I know where the line is now, for Cameron and for me, so I smartly back away with the insight that I desperately needed.
“What you said only further proves my point,” I tell him softly in his ear. “We’re two adults, both awesome in our own ways, and our bodies responded to one another. It’s perfectly natural, but we’re not animals who have to act on whatever we feel. We can choose restraint… if we want to.” I let the question of whether that’s what Cameron truly wants bleed into the suggestion, but he doesn’t take the bait even though his hungry eyes are locked onto my mouth.
Though he doesn’t move an inch, I feel him pull away from me. Away from the kiss he wants as desperately as I do. “Keep the focus on Grace. She’s what matters.” He nods like everything’s been decided. And for him, I suppose it has been. Putting all his energy, effort, and mental focus into his daughter is how he operates, his safe space.
“Right, Grace.” I agree because he’s right, but secretly, I know that Cameron matters too. I want to make them both happy.
The silence between us grows, both of us ruminating on what we’ve said and what we’ve decided. It’s the right thing to do, I know that. But if that’s true, why does it feel so wrong? Because it does. With my hip pressed against Cameron’s beneath the warm blanket and his frown looking so adorably cute, it feels so very wrong. And not in the fun, naughty way, but rather in a denying the inevitable sort of way.
“Why did you get out of the car at the pumpkin patch? Grace didn’t want to go and I said it was okay, just a silly little idea, but you got out.” It’s been bugging me all day. I know Cameron would never knowingly and willingly volunteer to do something like we did today, but he did, and I haven’t figured out why.