There’s a bathtub and a separate shower, double vanity sinks, and beautiful white marble details. It’s also spotless, and hallelujah, there’s toilet paper. They have to have a maid or multiple maids because there is no way a house full of college men can keep a house this clean.
Locking the door, I handle my business and try to keep my mind off Cameron.
You are not going to act on your attraction. He’s your sister’s ex.You hate him. He hates you. He’s an arrogant douchebag. You’re a semi-decent person.
I wash my hands and admire the bathroom one last time feeling a little better than I did before I came in. I’ll focus on my friends for the rest of the night. Maybe we can go to the living room and dance, then head out early. When I twist the doorknob open, I’m suddenly pushed back. The door closes, locks and I’m pinned up against it in the blink of an eye. Panic rises within me before realizing that it’s Cameron.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?”
“How much have you had to drink?” he asks with a stern voice, standing only two feet away from me.
I’m so confused right now. “Why?”
His hand inches closer to my face and a new kind of panic buzzes through me.
“Just answer the question.”
Letting out a tiny growl, I say, “Fine, I had two cocktails earlier today and a beer when I got here.”
His eyes rake over me. “Are you drunk?”
What is with all these questions? “Only slightly tipsy.”
Something similar to relief flashes in his dark brown eyes. When he doesn’t move, I ask the same question, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
“I’ve only had three beers.”
Where is he going with this and why was he following me?
“What am I supposed to do with that information, Cameron?” I huff out.
He takes a step closer, our noses almost touching now. I try taking one step back before remembering that I’m still pinned to the door.
“Were you thinking about me when Emma asked the last question? Am I the one who you shouldn’t want, but do?”
Oh, shit, no.Do not answer that question.
His look is intense, and his jaw is set tight. His hands arecurled into fists like he’s holding back on whatever he has the urge to do. My breaths quicken in anticipation.
My nerves get the best of me, and I answer truthfully. “Yes.”
“Are you really dating that Levi guy?” he grits out.
My mind seems to have caught onto my body’s natural reaction because I answer quickly. “No.”
He lets out a breath before his lips and body crash against mine. This time, I don’t push him away, even when everything in me is telling me to do so. We both let out sounds of relief as if we’d been waiting for this for longer than a week.
His hand threads through my hair, and he pulls it back, giving him full access to my mouth. I moan at the feeling of his tongue against mine. The other hand moves towards my breast before he cups it and takes my nipple between his fingers, teasing me. I gasp against his mouth, and he breaks away, looking at me intensely.
“You like that?” he rasps.
Not giving him the answer that I know will satisfy him, he lowers the top of my dress while kissing and nipping at my jaw and neck. This time, I moan even louder. He stops what he’s doing and I whimper at the loss of contact.
“Lower your fucking voice,” he demands.
My eyes widen at his tone, taking me by surprise. The fact that he thinks he can tell me what to do pisses me off.
“Make me,” I bite back.
