When I’m finished, I stumble through the dark room and climb back into bed. Cam replaces me in the bathroom, and when he returns, I pretend to be asleep. I don’t want to know whether he’s the snuggle-after-sex type. This is a one-time, hot as hell fling. He hovers over me, the heat of his body warming me even though we’re not touching. But a moment later, and without a word, he settles on his back. When his breaths even out, I finally allow sleep to find me.
The summer sun heats my back through the open window as the room around me comes into focus. It takes me a minute to absorb my surroundings, but when Ido…
Holy.
Fuck.
My face is pressed firmly against a rock-hard arm. Not just any arm, though. An arm covered with tattoos. From the top of his shoulder to the bottom of his elbow. I definitely did not see that last night.
Cam, his hair all askew, lowers his tortoise-shell glasses down the bridge of his nose and peers at me from where he’s propped up against the headboard. “Think I’m a serial killer now?” He winks so gleefully it’s like his wink even fucking winks at me.
He’s fixated on my mouth, his hazel eyes warming to a heated gold.
My lips tingle at the attention and the memory of his kisses last night.
His focus drifts from my mouth and down my neck slowly. I follow the trail to my chest and—whoops!My tit is here for an encore.
Sitting quickly, I scramble to adjust myself. With a smirk, he snags a bottle of water and holds it out to me.
“Thanks.” I twist off the cap and down half of it in one gulp. All the while, he’s watching me. I can feel his perusal like a caress. With a deep inhale, I cap the bottle again and set it on the end table, then scurry out of bed. It isn’t until I’m standing that I notice how bare my ass is. Looks like I never put my underwear back on. Crouching beside the bed, I grab my bathing suit bottoms and tug them on.
“What are you reading?” I ask, standing once all my parts are finally covered.
He blinks and drops his chin, holding his book up off his lap. “This?”
Now that his attention is directed elsewhere, I turn around and put on my bathing suit top, then quickly pull on my shorts and T-shirt.
“It’s a travel photography guide.”
“Are you a travel photographer?” I guess we never got around to talking about our professions last night. “I noticed your camera case.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, I nod to where he left it on the desk.
“Umm.” He lowers his gaze again and fiddles with his book. “Not really. I would love to be, but it’s not my job. My sister Claire bought the camera for me.”
“Why not? What do you do?”
He ignores the first question entirely. “I’m in the hospitality business.” His tone is nothing but defeat and his lips are downturned as he says it.
“Wow, you sound super passionate,” I deadpan.
He leans back against his pillow, hands behind his head, his biceps bulging.
I knew he was packing. Covertly, I wipe at my mouth to make sure I’m not drooling.
His lips turn up on one side and he cocks a brow. Dammit, I’ve been caught.
“Long story short,” he begins, tilting his neck one way, then the other, “my family has owned a chain of hotels for a couple of generations. I’m expected to take over the business.”
“But you don’t want to.” It’s not a question. Everything about his demeanor tells me that.
“Right. While I love New York, I don’t want to be stuck there full time. I’d prefer to travel, capturing and sharing images along the way.” He sighs.
“Why don’t you, then?”
With a long breath in and back out again, he studies me. “It’s not that simple.”
“Oh, don’t go all Allie Hamilton on me,” I tease.
That earns me a grin. “Did you just referenceThe Notebook?”
