I knew when he was grinding his fucking dick against me, when he touched me, that I liked it. I liked it a lot more than I should have.
I swear, my cock has a fucking mind of its own. Especially when Cameron Scott is in the picture, which is why I can’t let my little head do all the thinking this time around.
If I want to repair my friendship with Cam, I have to focus on myfriendship.
Not the memory of the most fulfilling orgasm of my fucking life.
I’m not making the same mistake twice.
Shoving the image out of my mind, I focus on the road until I pull up to his mother’s house. A sleek, black BMW sits in front of the house. It’s the same one he got into at the post office, so I know for certain he hasn’t left yet. The porch lights are on even though it isn’t terribly dark yet, and I park the car on the side of the street before getting out.
My heart pounds in my chest as I walk up the sidewalk, strewn with overgrown weeds and grass.
The only time I’ve been here was right after my honeymoon. I’d returned, thinking maybe Cam would have cooled off, but when I got here, I realized he wasgone.
I came to his mom, asking if she knew where he went, but she told me she didn’t. Seems Cam had left without a word or a trace. He didn’twantto be found.
That’s what hurt the most, I think. I could handle it if he hated me… as long as he washere.
But knowing he was out there, somewhere I didn’t know, and might never see him again…
I didn’t eat or shower for three days after I found out he left, because I knew he left because of me.
And I hated that I hurt him so much that he couldn’t stand to be in the same fucking state.
Just as I reach the top landing, I hear the sounds of crashing. And yelling. Lots of yelling.
Panic surges through me as I ready to knock on the door, but it flies open instead, nearly knocking me over.
Cam freezes, eyes going wide when they settle on me. “What the hell are you doing here?” Cam seethes, his face flushed, eyes glassy.
The air whooshes around me as I reach out to steady him, my arm on his bicep.
“I came to pick you up. For dinner,” I say, but really it feels like I’m saying something else. Something Ican’tsay out loud.
I came for you.
“I don’t need you to—” he starts with a huff, yanking his arm out of my grasp. I hate the empty feeling, but I drop my hand nonetheless.
“Get in the car,” I say, my voice carrying a hint of command I haven’t heard since I used to call plays in college.
Cam grits his teeth, glancing at the door, more shouting coming from inside, then at my car. His jaw tenses as he scoffs out, ”Fine.”
He stomps away, not bothering for me to walk him to the car or wait for me to catch up. The curtain in the window shifts, and I see his scowling mother, glancing at him as he walks away, then she looks at me. She shakes her head before snapping shut the curtains.
I jog up the car, trying to make it before Cam does so I can open his door, even though I know he’s more than capable of doing it himself.
He beats me to it, though, and instead I climb into the driver’s seat.
He curls up in the passenger seat, leaning on the window frame. It’s a nice night out, warm enough neither of us need a jacket, though he’s wearing a plum velvet blazer, somethingnot many people could pull off. Each time I’ve seen him this weekend, he’s been dressed well. Not that he used to dress terribly, but his clothes are more expensive now. Name brand. Fancy. He’s always presentable. And I recall his comment about having money now… not that I didn’t already know that. I’ve been following his career a little too closely.
I can’t deny the deep purple tone looks good on him, making his natural tan stand out.
Combined with his dark hair and his steely grey eyes…
I grip the steering wheel, forcing myself to look away.
No. No. No. No. Not this time, Austen. Eyes on the fucking road.
