I run my hands up his chest, feeling the solidness beneath my fingers. I slide one hand up his neck, gripping his throat while the other holds his hip. His pulse hitches and I smile.
“But that’s not all,” I tell him.
Cam lets out a chuckle, but it sounds almost sad. Like he really is going to cry.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He’s quiet for a minute and I wonder if he is. If I should shift tactics and maybe put on a movie or—
“Yeah. I’m good,” he says as he leans in and kisses me. Hard.
I’m a bit taken aback at first, but quickly fall into step. I kiss him back with equal fervor, sliding my tongue into his mouth. He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls it, making me groan in satisfaction.
Fuck, I love when he does that.
And so does my cock.
I break away for a moment, and he softens his grip. His thumb strokes the back of my neck as he breathes out a raspy, gravelly, “What else could there possibly be?”
I pull him against me, which makes my back flush with the counter. He settles his hands on both sides of me, boxing me in.
His cock twitches against my thigh, making my own throb. But with the weight of him on me and the counter pressing against my back, I can’t move all that well.
“Dinner,” I say. “I made reservations.”
Cam’s head drops and he laughs. “Of course you did.”
When he looks up at me, the sad, wistful eyes are gone, replaced by the ones I know best.
Mischievous, sexy, stormy.
“You deserve it,” I tell him, and it’s true. I watch his expression shift as he runs his hand along my hip, slowly caressing it over my ass. I squeeze his neck lightly, feeling that kick of his pulse again.
I know this has always been a point of contention with him. Even when we were younger, he didn’t think he deserved nice things. But he’s built himself a life full of those things, all which he’s worked so hard for.
He does deserve good things. He deserves the best things.
Because he’s the best thing in the world to me. He always has been.
“Austen…” His voice is weak, tinged with so much emotion I can barely keep myself together. But I have to.
Because I can’t crumble underneath him yet. Not yet.
“You are going to put on your prettiest fucking suit and you are going to let me buy you dinner—”
He looks as if he’s going to protest, but I put a finger to his lips, shaking my head.
“You are going to let me buy you dinner, and don’t even think about ordering a salad.”
He laughs, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“And then you get your real present,” I tease.
Cam’s grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin through the fabric of my shirt.
“Oh really?” he asks. “What’s that?”
I kiss him, savoring the taste of his tongue, of his mouth.
