“I…just haven’t met anyone worth the risk.”
“Risk?”
I shrug, toying with the edge of the blanket. “I know what it feels like to be rejected. Humiliated. Mocked. I don’t trust easily, and that doesn’t exactly lend itself to…” I twirl my hand helplessly. “Dating.”
“Do you trust me?”
Our eyes meet just as lightning illuminates the sky.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” I answer honestly. “Thank you again, by the way. For letting me stay here.”
“I’ll always have your back, Cam. No matter what.”
Warmth blooms across my chest, and I duck my head, wondering if he can see me blushing in the dim lighting.
“Still, I feel like I should repay you somehow, or help out or…” I trail off weakly, knowing there’s nothing for me to do, and that he doesn’t need—or want—my money. “Sorry. I’m being polite and making it weird.”
“You’re not making it weird. I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s nothing to repay.”
Just then, thunder cracks through the sky, sharp as a whip, making me jump. I manage to slosh what’s left of my wine all over the blanket, and I leap up, holding the dripping glass away from me.
“Shit, sorry,” I say. “I’ll just grab a towel.”
“Camryn.” The tone in his voice makes me freeze, it’s so deliciously stern. “Where are your pants, sweetheart?”
“Um…this is what I sleep in, usually. I was expecting to be alone when I came down. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll…I’ll just…” I pace towards the kitchen, thentowards the stairs, then back towards the kitchen. I’m like a trapped fly, bouncing all over the place, unsure of where to go.
“Sit,” he says in that same tone. It makes my pussy clench and an ache throb somewhere deep inside me. So I sit. I watch his broad, muscled back as he retreats to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a towel. I wipe the drops of wine off my hands, my wrist, blotting at where it dripped onto the blanket.
“Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess.”
“It was the thunder’s fault, not yours,” he says wryly, and then sits back down on the couch beside me, closer than he was before.
I’m not sure if it’s the darkness, the wine, or the fact that he knows I’m not wearing pants and seems cool with it, but I suddenly feel emboldened.
“Can we…” My stomach erupts, a riot of butterflies going crazy. I lick my lips, pushing through the anxious nerves. “Can we snuggle as we watch the storm?”
Eight
Camryn
He goes very, very still, and then he nods, lifting his arm and pulling me so that I’m tucked into his side, my head resting on his chest. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from moaning. He smells incredible, like warm skin and a hint of expensive cologne. I press my thighs together as I cuddle into him, letting my hand rest on his impressively hard stomach. His skin is warm and smooth.
Something twitches in his sweatpants, and I stare, mesmerized, at Jacob’s hardening cock.
His fingers slide into my hair, petting me in a soothing rhythm.
“Comfortable?” he asks, and I nod.
“Very.” And it’s true, I am, even if my nipples are painfully hard and my pussy feels like it’s on fire. I let my gaze wander over him, taking in the faint dusting of chest hair, the slopes of muscle, his brown nipples. I imagine biting each of his abs, leaving a mark. My mark.
My gaze drifts lower, following the trail of dark hair to where it disappears below his gray sweats and then to the outline of his dick, now visibly tenting his pants. I try, but I can’t stop the small whimper that escapes my lips.
He’s hard. Because of me.
God, it’s so wrong, but I must be some kind of freak, because I love it. I want this man in a way I’ve never experienced before.
His fingers massage my scalp, and I make this really embarrassing little purring noise. The only indication that he even heard it is the way his dick twitches when I do. Rain splatters against the windows, and I snuggle even closer, aching for him. I can hear his heart beat, pounding a bit faster than it was a minute ago.
