“I don’t have to meet with Margo until tomorrow,” I say carefully.
I should just leave and check into my hotel early, maybe grab my sketchpad and see if I can get some work done. But something tells me leaving isn’t really what I should do, and I’d be lying if I said I wanted to.
“Okay,” he says.
“Maybe… we could check out Times Square? Hit up the wax museum? Oh, maybe Rockefeller Center?”
Cam smiles and it makes my insides warm. “Sure.”
I move to collect his plate and he doesn’t fight me. Just sits there, watching me.
“I need to grab my suitcase,” I say, realizing if I am indeed going to shower, I needmyclothes. Not that I mind wearingCam’s sweats, but his shirts are too small for me. I’m no body builder, but I’ve added more muscle since we were younger, and as such I’ve gone up a few shirt sizes in the span of seven years.
“Right,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll grab it. Give me your keys,” he says.
“Oh, no it’s fine, I—”
“Give. Me. Your keys.” His voice is stern, commanding, and fuck if every bone in my body doesn’t react like a tuning fork.
Including my stupid cock.
I blink, trying to hit the reset button on my damn brain.
“I think I left them on the coffee table,” I say too quickly, trying to cover up the cracking in my voice. Cam shoots me a grin.
“Go.” He gestures to the bathroom. “I’ll have your stuff up here when you get out,” he says.
I nod, my stupid cock once again in agreement.Yes, shower, that’s what we need.
So that’s what I do.
I turn around and head down the hall for the bathroom, hoping the hot water will be just what I need.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cameron
I have no idea what I’m doing, but I can’t stop. That’s that. I’m doing this and seeing where it goes. I’ll take whatever I can get from Austen. If he wants me to be his dirty little secret, I’ll do it.
I think I was so angry for so long, and so cruel recently, because I knew if I put my walls down, this would happen.
I would fall hard and fast—and stupidly.
I try not to think too hard about it as I get his suitcase and bring it back up to my apartment. Over-thinking this is only going to ruin it. I don’t want to ruin it. I want to enjoy whatever it is he’s going to give me. I can’t worry about whether or not he’s going to make up with Savannah. I’m not so stupid to think just because we slept in the same bed, cuddling, and kissed a fewtimes that he’s going to just get a divorce from her. That’s not how Austen is, it’s not what he does.
Raising my hand to knock on the bathroom door, I pause when I hear something from the other side, over the spray of water. A groan?
My heart picks up and I press my ear to the door. The thought of him jerking off in the shower has my dick hard. But I’m probably just hearing things. Austen isn’t the kind of guy who just jerks off in people’s showers.
But then I think about that time on the phone. When he thought he hung up, but didn’t. When I listened to him come and—fuck, yeah, that was definitely a moan.
I step back, my hand tightening on the suitcase handle.
What do I do? I know what Iwantto do. I want to go in there and help him. Hell, maybe even watch him. ButshouldI do that?
Fuck it. Why not?
I open the door without knocking, and I hear him slip and slap into the wall to catch himself
