Still, the admission that he can't recall the mother of his child hangs heavily in the air.
"That's the kind of man I am. That's the kind of life I live."
"But you remembered me," I say softly, echoing his words from earlier. "From the club. From the deli. And the hotel lobby where we shared our first kiss..."
"Yes." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "I remember every damn second with you."
I lean closer toward him until our foreheads almost touch.
"Then stop talking," I whisper, "and show me."
His mouth crashes against mine with desperate hunger. No gentle exploration this time—just raw need that's been building for days. His hands tangle in my hair, holding me to him as his tongue sweeps against mine. I taste wine and desire and something deeper I can't name.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. "Upstairs," he says roughly, pulling me to my feet. "Before I lose what's left of my self-control and take you right here on this couch."
My legs feel unsteady as he leads me up the staircase, his hand warm against my lower back. Each step builds the anticipation until I'm vibrating with nervous energy.
At the top, he guides me toward his room, pausing to kiss me against the hallway wall. His mouth finds that sensitive spot just below my ear, and I gasp.
"Shhh," he murmurs against my skin. "Posey's sleeping."
But his hands are everywhere—sliding under my shirt, tracing the line of my spine.
When we finally reach his bedroom, he closes the door and leans against it, studying my face in the moonlight streaming through thewindows. "Last chance to change your mind," he says softly. "Once we do this, there's no going back to being just boss and nanny."
I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "I don't want to go back." Something fierce and possessive flashes in his eyes.
"Good," he growls, reaching for the hem of my shirt.
"Because I'm done pretending, I don't want you. Let's get this off," he says, his voice rough with desire. His hands find the hem of my shirt, fingers brushing against my skin as he lifts it.
"Arms up."
I raise my arms like he's helping Posey undress, and we both laugh at the absurdity. But the laughter dies when my shirt hits the floor and his eyes darken as they take me in.
"Beautiful," he whispers, reaching around to unclasp my bra with practiced ease. "Absolutely beautiful." The cool air hits my skin as the lace falls away, but Cameron's heated gaze makes me feel anything but exposed.
His hands frame my face as he kisses me again, deeper this time, backing me toward his bed until my knees hit the mattress.
"Lie down," he murmurs against my lips. I sink onto the soft comforter, watching as he pulls his own shirt over his head.
The moonlight reveals the lean muscles of his chest, the defined lines of his abdomen. I can't help but stare. He joins me on the bed, his weight making the mattress dip as he hovers over me.
"Your turn to lose something else," he says, fingers finding the button of my jeans. I lift my hips to help him slide them down my legs, leaving me in just my white cotton panties. Nothing fancy or seductive—just practical underwear that suddenly feels incredibly intimate under his hungry gaze.
"Perfect," he breathes, hands skimming up my thighs.
When his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, I freeze.
"Wait," I say softly, suddenly self-conscious. "Can I—I just want to freshen up for a second. I won't be long."
He pauses, studying my face. "You don't need to?—"
"I'll just be a moment," I add awkwardly, heat flooding my cheeks. Understanding crosses his features, followed by something tender.
"Of course."
I head to the hallway bathroom, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. In the mirror, my reflection looks flushed and wild-eyed, hair mussed from Cameron's hands. I splash cool water on my face, then use a soft washcloth with soap to clean myself thoroughly.
