“Yeah,” he said noncommittally, toying with the silverware. Meri swiped at her long bangs and cast her gaze down at his hands, watching him fidget.
“Where?”
“Some bar. Had a few too many.”
“You don’t drink that often, health nut. Was something wrong?”
“Just needed to unwind.”
“Hmm.”
And that was it for conversation, at least until she’d had a glass of wine and their oysters on the half shell arrived. Then they talked about ordinary things: his job, her job. She was a secretary at a real estate firm and loved everything about it except one of the partners who gave her the creeps. Anyone on her radar was on his too. The bastard had better not ever get handsy, and he said so, but he didn’t especially like how she lit up when he did.
The restaurant was one of those joints where the patrons could leave their signatures to commemorate their visit. Meredith produced a pen from her purse and wrote her name on the table in her loopy handwriting, then handed it over to him. He signed right underneath and added the date. She wrote something else he couldn’t see, then tucked her pen back in her purse.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, smiling mysteriously.
“Come on,” he coaxed.
She blushed. “I wrote ‘first date.’”
“Ah. Okay.”
“Well, it is. It doesn’t have to be the first of many, I don’t guess. But it is the first.”
Girl, if only you knew. He’d be overjoyed if it could be the first of thousands. A lifetime of dates.
“Do you remember when you beat up Andrew Carson for me?”
And that was the last thing he’d expected her to bring up. He laughed. “Hell, yes, I do. The little shit had it coming.”
She grinned, putting a drop of cocktail sauce on her oyster. “I can’t even recall exactly what it was he said to me, but I’ll never forget you doing that.”
Cam did. He’d made a comment about her flat chest, and he’d overheard it. For Christ’s sake, she’d only been twelve or so. He’d taken great satisfaction in grabbing that creep by the collar of his shirt and slugging him one, even if it did land him in detention for a week. As far as he knew, Andrew had never dared to even speak to Meredith again, so it had been worth it.
“I wonder whatever happened to him,” she mused.
He shrugged. He couldn’t care less. “Whatever it is that happens to loudmouthed little turds once they get out in the world, I suppose.”
Meredith knocked back one of her oysters. He watched the bliss cross her face as she swallowed and felt something he’d been trying to deny—his cock throbbing in his pants. “Mmm,” she said, sweeping her tongue across her lips. “Heaven on a shell.”
He wasn’t crazy about them himself—a taste he’d never really acquired—but he was enjoying the hell out of watching her. Her blush from earlier remained, and it intensified as she sipped her wine. “Oh my God, Cam. This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”
Cameron laughed. “I think it was yours.”
“No.” She shook her head, flicking a curl behind her shoulder and displaying the creamy expanse of skin above her neckline. “It was yours too, you just didn’t want to admit it.”
“I didn’t, huh?”
“Nope.” Her eyelids had grown heavier, he could see, hooding her blue pinwheel irises. Beautiful. Whether from the wine or the food or—dare he think it?—lust, it looked good on her. She’d bloomed. Maybe it was a combination of all three, a perfect storm leading him to his demise.
He’d go smiling.
Yesterday, he’d been halfway pissed that she seemed to ignore him. Today, he’d been halfway pissed that she’d kissed him. Asked him out. Obviously had thought of him as something more. What the hell?
She ate. She drank. She touched his hand, and he didn’t move it. Her foot brushed his under the table, and he didn’t move it. He should have. He should’ve acted like he’d been struck by lightning. He should have been responsible. Her eyes grew heavier, and he felt that weight in his dick. Hell, he didn’t have to drink a drop; he was drunk off her alone.
“Meri,” he said, holding her sultry gaze, “I think you need to slow down. In more ways than one.”
She giggled, teeth white against her naturally reddened lips. She had the tiniest speck of cocktail sauce at the corner of her mouth; he couldn’t stop himself from reaching across the table and swiping it away with his thumb. Her eyes closed; she caught his hand in hers, holding it there.
That soft touch was a trap he couldn’t spring. Like a desperate wild animal, he was caught, helpless. She turned her lips to his hand. Didn’t kiss, didn’t do anything...let him feel. Then, astoundingly, she drew his hand down to her breast.
“Meredith,” he snapped, springing the trap at last and pulling away. No one could see; they had a corner spot and her back was to most of the crowd. Still. That brief touch could have lasted an hour for the impact it had on him. Soft, so fucking soft. He’d been in bed and on a balcony with a naked girl last night, and none of it had shaken him the way barely brushing Meredith’s breast had. Over her clothes. He couldn’t imagine seeing her naked. Could not even go there right now, or he might embarrass himself.
“I’m sorry,” she said miserably. He’d been glancing around at the other patrons; now he looked back at her.
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” he said. “Ever. I could have stopped that. I should have. Momentary lapse.”
“You could have stopped that? What is that, exactly? It isn’t as if I’m not aware of what I just did. It’s not like some other force has taken over my body.”
He sat back. “You’ve had a little too much to drink.”
“No, I haven’t. Trust me.”
“I can’t trust you, sweetheart. Not when you’re like this.”
“Like what? It’s only me here. Same old Meredith. If I’ve had a few inhibitions removed since last night, then—” She stopped abruptly and seemed to deflate. “Never mind. You can take me back now, since you obviously want to.”
“What happened last night?” A terrible thought occurred to him, one so vile and atrocious that he couldn’t even consider it for long. Surely... Oh, fuck, surely not. Meredith had always struggled with insomnia; he knew that. Dane had talked about it before. They joked about her boundless energy. He’d fucked a girl on his balcony in the middle of the night hoping to not disturb anyone in the unit.
No. Just no. He couldn’t even dare ask her if she might have been awake, might have been sitting outside watching the waves. Hey, did you hear me getting it on with some nameless stranger last night, perchance? Motherfuck. No way.
Her eyes welled up with tears. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen in his entire life, those beautiful eyes, so happy and content and mischievous ten minutes ago, crushed and shattered and broken.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said swiftly, signing the check the waitress had just dropped off. Meredith kept her head down as he led her out of the restaurant. She remained dead silent the entire way back to the condo. Meanwhile, he struggled with the terrible idea he’d had, tried to push it away, tried to tell himself there was no fucking way it had happened.
He pulled into the condo parking lot. It was dark now, no romantic sunset to soften the mood. In fact, the western clouds that had helped create such a gorgeous canvas in the sky had rolled in fully to choke out the moon and stars.
If she’d heard them, he wanted to fucking die.
“Want to walk on the beach with me?” he asked as they sat silently in his truck. Funny. Yesterday, he’d craved her attention. Today, he didn’t know that he wanted the kind she was giving him. Now, he was afraid to let her go.
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. The undertone of eagerness broke his heart.
What an asshole he’d been.
“Are you okay?”
Nodding, she swiped under her eyes where silent tears must have been f
alling ever since he’d ushered her from the restaurant.
“Meredith, please talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, sounding stronger now. “A walk sounds great. The beach is good for the soul.” She laughed without humor, then leaned over and kissed his cheek before popping open her door and getting out. With a sigh, skin tingling from the touch of her lips, he followed.
This time, he didn’t wait for her to take his hand. He held hers. Stroked it softly with his thumb as they strolled. It wasn’t long before the hem of her dress and the cuffs he’d rolled into his pants were soaking wet, but neither of them cared. She cheered up—he’d never known her to be down for long—and he was able to forget the ridiculous notion that she’d been privy to any of his nighttime activities.
They laughed and chatted with families who were searching the beach with flashlights, looking for shells and sand crabs. Cam stopped to help a little boy dig for the elusive critters, and Meri dropped right down in the water with him, dress and all, laughing and plowing at the wet sand with both hands. If it gave him an excellent view of her cleavage, he wasn’t complaining.
“I got him!” she said happily, showing the little boy her wiggling prize.
“Cool!” he exclaimed. She dropped the crab into his bucket of sand, and he jumped up and ran back to his parents.
“Cute,” she said. “When Dane and I would come here with our parents when we were kids, we would hunt for those things all night if they would let us. I remember him getting so mad if I found more of them than he did.”
“That sounds about right.”
“I always wondered what the big deal was. Someday I want to do that with my kids, though.” She stood and brushed her hands against her dress with a smile. Then she seemed to realize what she was doing and looked down at herself. “Oh my God, I’m ruined.”
On the contrary. She’d never looked more stunning. As soon as she graced him with that smile that rendered the absent moon needless, he took a cue from her book. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, sand, salt, water and all, not waiting for an invitation.
“Oh my God,” she whispered breathlessly against his lips. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He wanted her as off-balance as she’d made him all day. Coaxing her mouth open, he teased her with little flicks of his tongue, tasting the salt of the ocean and the wine she’d had at dinner as she melted completely into his arms, trusting him with her slight weight.
For all he knew, Dane could be standing ten feet away; he didn’t give a fuck. All that mattered was Meredith, what she wanted. It was all that had ever mattered. Now that what she wanted was Cam, well, he would just have to give her that, too. Or die trying.
Chapter Six
It was almost embarrassing that he did this to her. Made her so shameless. That his voice alone could hold her so captivated, that it could induce her to touch herself to the sounds of his lovemaking. She wanted more than anything to not have to—she wanted him to do it for her. Maybe it was insanity to hear something like that one night and then launch a seductive assault on the guy the next day, but she couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t know who she was anymore. But whoever he made her, that’s who she wanted to be. The old Meredith could die a thousand deaths for all she cared, as long as Cameron held her like this. Kissed her. Let her experience for herself what she’d heard last night. If it all ended in the morning, at least she would have the memory.
His big hands skated down her sides and around to her ass, squeezing gently as she pushed her hips into him. There were families and kids out here, but it was dark. Unless an errant flashlight beam hit them, they would remain unseen.
Cam pulled away to glance around them, and she took the opportunity to kiss his strong, smooth, spicy-scented jaw and his throat, smiling against his skin. He’d shaved for her; he’d had stubble this morning. She hadn’t paid much attention until now.
“Baby,” he murmured, and a shivery little thrill went through her at the endearment, so foreign coming from his lips. “Where should we go? I’m shacked up with your brother and you’re with Alyssa…”
Ohhhh. She clenched fistfuls of his shirt; God, he smelled so good. He was hard against her belly. So big. So thick. “Alyssa said she wouldn’t be back until late.” She had to smile at the memory of her best friend’s actual words: I don’t care if I have to get a hotel room for the night, or even sleep in my car. Bring that man back here and fuck him until he can’t walk. Just send me a text to let me know.
“Are you sure?” he whispered in her ear, and she knew he wasn’t asking about Alyssa’s absence.
Meri slipped her hands up his chest and into his thick, dark hair, staring up into his eyes. “Absolutely. Completely.”
“Come on.”
They trudged from the water together, chuckling at their wet clothes and the sand they picked up along the way. The boardwalk that had burned her feet earlier still held the warmth of the sun which had set an hour ago. They collected their shoes and stopped to wash off their feet before entering the elevator to get to Meri’s floor.
It was the slowest elevator in the entire world, but Cameron didn’t waste the time. He pushed Meredith against the wall and kissed the life out of her. His damp, hot hands sought and found flesh; she dropped her sandals so she could pull him closer, ever closer. By the time the doors opened, he’d slipped one spaghetti strap from her shoulder, stopping just short of baring her breast.
To her surprise, he didn’t release her, only caught her up in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He had to dodge a couple of guys who snickered at them on the way; she couldn’t be bothered to care.
“Key?” he asked, stopping at her door. She’d forgotten her shoes, she realized, but she didn’t give a damn.
“Try it,” she told him, too fascinated with his lips to release them for long. “Alyssa probably didn’t even lock it. She’s terribly irresponsible.”
“Is she, now.” A minor shift in his stance, and the door opened. A rush of cool air bathed her back. “I guess so. Maybe she’s not the only one.”
“Maybe not.” He tasted so good. So good. She throbbed. She ached. And they were alone, finally, gloriously alone in the dark condo.
Effortlessly, he carried her across the living room, guided only by the light spilling in from the patio door. “The one on the left,” she told him, and he took her into her bedroom, spilling her across her bed. She raised one knee so that her flimsy skirt climbed her thigh, and Cam ran his palm gently up her calf and over her bent knee. She felt the rasp of sand under his caress.
“Know what I’m thinking?” he asked. She heard it. That dark, sex-roughened voice. All for her. No one else. It had echoed in her dreams through the one or two restless hours of sleep she’d managed to get last night.
Since she couldn’t speak, she shook her head helplessly on the mattress.
“A shower.”
He might be right about that. They were liberally covered with sand and salt and the scent of the ocean. Her dress was a damp puddle around her hips and his pants legs were drenched. Not that they needed the clothes for what they each had in mind, but that sand could be abrasive.
“Okay,” she whispered. He took her hand and tugged her up. She followed him into her small bathroom, suddenly nervous as hell when he stripped his shirt off.
Jesus. Christ. She often forgot how unbelievable he looked until confronted with the reality. It was as if her memory refused to accept that a specimen of his beauty existed in the world, and wouldn’t quite conjure up the complete picture.
He scrubbed a hand over his tousled black hair, leaving white flecks of sand in it, and tossed his shirt into the corner, grinning at her. Oh, he knew he was all that, didn’t he?
She had nothing to be ashamed of looks wise, but all at once she was acutely aware of her every flaw. Yeah, her memory had no problem conjuring those up. What if she turned him off? What if the girl from last night had been as perfect as he was?
See
ing her distress, he stepped to her, trailing a finger up her quivering thigh and taking the hem of her dress with it. “You planning to take this off?” he asked huskily.
“I was thinking of showering in it,” she said, staring into his eyes.
He chuckled. “I’m not gonna let you do that, you know.” Higher and higher that finger crept. Leaving her thigh, journeying onto her belly muscles. They pulled tight under his touch. She sucked in a breath, her heart shuddering with nervousness and excitement. “I asked if you were sure,” he reminded her.
“And I am,” she said quickly.
A frown creased his brow. “Meri, you aren’t…you’re not a virgin, right?”
“No. It’s just…” You make me feel like one. “I want you so much. I’ve waited so long.”
“I never knew.” He’d reached the point where he needed her help. She lifted her arms and he pulled the dress off over her head. It joined his shirt in the corner. Now only her panties and strapless bra—matching burgundy silk and lace—remained between her and stark nudity. His gaze drank her in. Without looking away from her, he dropped his hands to his belt.
“Let me,” she said, stepping to him with a sudden shot of courage. She wanted to undress him like he was undressing her. Discover him. Know every inch of him. She worked at his belt and then his fly, eager now, thinking surely the sight of him was going to blow a fuse in her brain. She already knew her memory couldn’t handle him. His black pants joined the growing pile after he stepped out of them and kicked them away. He was a boxers man, not that she gave much of a damn. It was what he looked like out of them that she wanted to know.
Years of longing. All coming to an end. Tonight.
“Can I return the favor?” he asked, taking her hand and placing it on his stomach. Her eyes closed at the feel of him. Hard muscle. Warm skin. He let her trace the ridges of his six-pack and then coaxed her down. Down. Over his underwear. Her questing fingers found his hardness straining against the fabric. Oh. As she gently measured the length and girth of him, his fingers tightened around her wrist and he groaned.