19

 

 

Cameron wasn't exaggerating.

Windhaven is loaded with prime make-out spots.

And for the past two weeks, we've been taking full advantage of each and every one.

Here's how it goes down:

First, I receive a text with a location and time.

Cam: Baker Auditorium. 10:15 a.m.

Cam: Science Library. Geology Stacks. 8:30 p.m.

Cam: Anatomy Lab. 3:45 p.m. Need some hands-on help with the subject ;)

Confession—I'm a sucker for the little wink emoticon.

Next, I pull up my campus map. The thing is notoriously hard to navigate and in desperate need of an update. I'm convinced it's the original blueprint from Windhaven's founding in 1895.

By some miracle, I've managed to find all the buildings so far.

And finally comes the best part. We meet up and get down to business.

A little boob-groping, a lot of tongue action, and some serious dry-humping.

The "forbidden" aspect adds a little rush of adrenaline to the mix.

Who knew confidential campus canoodling could be so thrilling?!

And, just like Cam insisted, we haven't been found out.

Wait...no. Scratch that.

A janitor caught us in the act the other day.

To be fair, we were messing around in a supply closet. Cleaning personnel were bound to stumble upon us at some point.

We obviously weren't the first exhibitionists this particular janitor had come across.

The poor guy didn't even flinch as he took in the scene: Cam's hands up my shirt and his erection not even remotely concealed beneath mesh soccer shorts, our body heat and heavy panting steaming up the small space.

Instead, he just shoved a bucket and soggy mop into my arms.

"Put this on the shelf when you're finished," Unbothered Cleaning Man had said. "And clean up whatever bodily fluids you leave behind. I've already mopped up two puddles of semen this morning. My shift's done for the day."

 

Somebody pray for this man and all university janitors around the world!

I'm currently sitting in my 6:00 p.m. Chem Lab—(night classes really suck, btw. 1/10 would not recommend)—when another hook-up alert has my pocket ringing.

Ringing instead of vibrating like it should be.

Whoopsies!

I forgot to turn my cell to silent mode, so the entire laboratory gets an earful of Nelly's famous tune, 'Hot in Here'.

"It's getting hot in here...So take off all your clothes..."

 

Yes, I set actual songs as my ringtone like I'm still in middle school.

Yes, my childhood crush on Nelly is still burning bright.

And yes, I did make the mistake of divulging these personal quirks to Cameron during our last get together. He made fun of me for about five minutes straight, then proceeded to set this particular tune as the ringtone for whenever he calls or texts. We were dying laughing at the time.

Right now?

I think I might die of embarrassment.

With the most stealthy of movements, I reach into my pocket and turn the volume off.

Everyone's staring at my lab table, the professor's frowning at the interruption, so I quickly make my debut as a Hollywood actress.

"Whose phone was that?" I ask loudly. With saucer-wide eyes, I dramatically whip my head around like I'm searching for the culprit.

My lab partner, Justin Something-or-other, is snoring in the seat next to me.

I point at him and slowly shake my head in disappointment. "Always forgets to turn his phone off. Typical Justin. And that song? Not very school appropriate!"

Once the suspicion has been shifted to my innocent lab partner—You snooze you lose, buddy!—I check the message.

Cam:House empty. My bedroom. Get your ass over here ASAP.

The last twenty minutes of class drag by at a snail's pace. The professor's droning on about something boring. Bunsen burner safety, I think? Maybe some info about chemical burns? Who knows...I'm not paying attention.

After a text like that, how could I?!

My mind only has room for one thing.

What feels like a trillion years later, lab is finally released. I sprint to my dorm, drop off my textbooks, change my clothes, and suddenly I'm knocking on Cameron's bedroom door.

"About damn time, Syd. Took you long enou—" His words morph into unrestrained laughter. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

"What?" I peer down at my black turtleneck and leggings. "Just an everyday outfit. Nothing to see here."

"I'm talking about the black beanie and gloves, dork." He waves a hand over my attire. "I thought you were stuck in lab, not out robbing a bank."

"You thought wrong." I plaster on an evil grin. "If you don't turn me in, we can split the cash 50-50."

"Deal." He laughs again, then tilts his head. "But for real. Why are you dressed like that?"

"It's a disguise." I point across the long hallway to Vaughn's room. "Just in case the house wasn't quite as empty as you thought."

"Well, let's fucking hope it's as empty as I thought. If anyone got a good look at you, there's a strong possibility they called the cops and reported an intruder."

"Crap...you're right. Fingers crossed a SWAT team doesn't come busting down the door in a few minutes."

He grins and motions me inside. "Get in here."

I've never stepped foot in his space before, so I eagerly hop over the threshold and observe my surroundings.

First thing I notice is the attic-nook type of vibe; the room is small and cozy, the low, sloped-ceilings following the pointed roof of the home.

Second thing my eyes are drawn towards is a gorgeous bay window taking up a decent chunk of the front wall. The outside view is partially blocked by thick tree foliage, but I can still see the glistening pool water and a few surrounding lounge chairs. Golden beams of sunlight penetrate the glass, creating dozens of intricate shadows scattered about the wooden floorboards.

"I love your room," I say as I continue my exploration. "Feels like we're in a cottage in the middle of the forest."

His style is minimal, color scheme a neutral combination of pewter gray, creamy white, and natural wood tones. All of his belongings are organized in a meticulous fashion, which doesn't surprise me in the slightest.

Cameron's tidy as can be—a trait I seriously appreciate in a guy.

My eyes light up when I spot his bed.

"Oh my Goddd. I've been in Twin XL Land for so long, I forgot what a real bed looked like." The impossibly thick mattress is straight out of The Princess and the Pea. A wave of envy rushes through me at the sight. "That must be super comfy."

"Totally." He nods. "Like sleeping on a cloud."

"I'm almost positive my dorm mattress is made of cardboard and styrofoam." I meet his gaze, a pout on my lips and my hands clasped together in a begging gesture. "Can I lay on it?"

"Sure. But first..."

He reaches over and removes the beanie from my head, my hair falling to my shoulders.

"There. Much better. I'm no longer concerned you're gonna pull a knife on me and steal my shit." With a little smirk, he gestures towards his bed. "Knock yourself out."

I yank off my gloves and take a diving leap onto the linen sheets.

The verdict is still out as to whether or not it's as comfy as it appears, but I can confirm one thing.

It's bouncy as heck.

"Ahhhh!"

The moment I hit the mattress, I go flying off like it's a trampoline. My body crashes into a sturdy desk situated against the wall. A few heavy items fall off the furniture, bonking me on the top of my head.

"Ouch."

I'm laying there like a discarded rag doll, eyes closed and limbs splayed out as Cam calls out to me.

"Shit. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I lift a hand in the air and flash the A-OK symbol. "Didn't really stick the landing, but all is well."

"Damn, Sydney. When I said knock yourself out, I didn't mean literally."

I hear heavy footsteps as he jogs over, and suddenly warm hands are cupping my cheeks. My eyelids slowly flutter open, revealing his entertained smile.

"What the hell am I gonna do with you, Baby Blue?"

"Good question. Put me on a leash so I stop wreaking havoc?"

"Remind me to put one in my Amazon cart as soon as possible." He helps me to a sitting position. "You sure you're alright?"

One hand moves to the top of my head, his fingers gently caressing the giant knot forming on my skull. The soothing touch feels nice.

Extremely nice.

"If I say no, will you keep doing that?"

He chuckles before squinting concerned gray eyes at me. "You dizzy or anything?"

"Not really."

"Blurry vision?"

I shake my head.

He holds up a hand and wiggles some digits. "How many do you see?"

"Cameron! I'm fine," I insist with a grin, but he's not letting me off the hook just yet.

"How many?"

I roll my eyes, but I won't lie—him doting all over me makes my heart skip a beat.

"Three fingers."

After passing his extensive concussion protocol, I pick up one of the items responsible for the bump on my head.

A vinyl record.

My vision travels upward to the old-fashioned turntable sitting on the desk. Dozens of vinyls are stacked up neatly beside the musical machine.

"I love record players," I gush as Cameron pulls me to my feet.

"Yeah? Pick one," he says. "We'll put it on."

I thumb through the collection of alphabetized records, letting out an "Aha!" as I find the perfect choice.

When I hand it to him, his brows jut up. "Elvis fan?"

"Mega fan," I say with an enthusiastic nod. "He is the King, Cam."

"A girl who appreciates some old school classics?" A hint of pleasant surprise flashes through his gaze and he smiles. "I like that."

When he lifts one side of his mouth into Mr. Presley's famous lip curl, I burst out laughing.

"Holy shit. You're good at that. The resemblance is uncanny."

"Thank you. Thank you very much."

I giggle again as he puts the record on the track and drops the needle. That gritty white noise that precedes the music sends a wave of goosebumps down my arms.

"The crackly sound gets me every time."

"Same," he agrees.

Suspicious Minds begins, the upbeat melody so raw and authentic in this format. My head bobs to the tune as I inspect the record player further. It's old—a vintage item, no doubt.

"Where did you get this?"

"It was my mom's. And before that, it was her mom's."

"Family heirloom?"

"I guess you could call it that."

For some reason, his answer is coated in bitter-sweet nostalgia.

I cock my head, waiting for him to explain.

"It wasn't exactly passed down to me. Just before I moved here for college, my mom got committed to a state rehab facility. The bank seized her house and assets and all that shit. Since I'm the only family she's got, they had me go through her stuff. I gave away or tossed out most of her belongings, but not this. I couldn't part with this."

He taps the edge of the record player, an inquisitive expression on his face. "I dunno why. Maybe because it's my only positive memory of her."

"She liked music?"

"Loved it," he says with a sentimental smile. "When I was really young, we'd push all the furniture aside and make a huge dance floor in the living room. She'd close her eyes, pick a record at random, and put it on. I'd place my feet on top of hers and she'd spin me around the room for hours, both of us laughing and singing along to the music."

"Awh." The image of little-boy Cameron and his mom twirling around gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. "That sounds really nice."

"Yeah. It was." He rubs the back of his neck. "But those nights became less and less frequent over the next couple years. My mom, she..." After a lengthy pause, he emits a deep exhale. "She had a lot of problems. Mental, mostly. My dad bailed on us when I was four, and that must've really messed her up. Led her to hard drugs and shit like that. She would drink herself sick some nights, shoot up heroin until she passed out on others. Not exactly an ideal environment for a growing kid. I got put into the foster care system when I was seven."

And just like that, the warm fuzzies scatter as my heart sinks into my stomach.

"I'm sorry that happened," I mumble. I reach out and give his wrist a soft squeeze. "I really am."

"It's cool. It was a long time ago." He sits on his bed, back resting against the wooden headboard as he shrugs. "Life's not always sunshine and rainbows. You take what you get and make the most of it, you know?"

I nod. "Exactly how I feel."

"Enough about my sob story." With a small smile, he pats the pillow next to him. "Get up here—carefully this time—and tell me about your parents. Your life growing up."

When I join him on the mattress, he tugs me onto his lap. I straddle his lower abdomen, my legs wrapped snugly around his hips.

"I hate to break it to you, but my background's not so great either," I admit with a sigh. "From the outside, it looked storybook perfect. Big house, nice neighborhood, mom, dad, son, and daughter... Dream life, right? But behind closed doors, we were about as dysfunctional as you could get."

"I kinda figured as much," Cam says. "Vaughn doesn't talk about y'all's family life. Ever."

"That doesn't surprise me; it's not the most fun topic to discuss. Neither of us communicate with our parents anymore. I can't even remember the last time I spoke a word to my dad. Five, maybe six years ago? I don't know. He was in and out of our lives from the get-go, only showing up when his guilty conscience from being a shitty parent became too heavy to bear. He'd claim he was back for good, ready to step up to the plate and be a father, and then bail after a week or two. It was like clockwork."

A frown turns my lips. "Personally, I never had, nor did I ever want any sort of relationship with the guy. Vaughn, on the other hand...he was always more optimistic than me when it came to daddy dearest. He tried to give him the benefit of the doubt time and time again, which turned out to be a huge mistake. He ended up fucking Vaughn over. Majorly fucking him over. The whole situation was awful, and unfortunately it led to me and Vaughn having our own falling-out."

I shake my head, stopping myself before I get too carried away with that particular topic. "It's not my place to talk about all that. That's my brother's story to tell, not mine."

"I get it." Cameron's hands come to rest on my waist. "And your mom?"

"My mother...God, where do I even begin?" My eyes wander to the ceiling, distant thoughts and once-buried memories swirling in my mind. "Cold. Unforgiving. Imagine the most unmotherly woman you can, and then multiply that by ten. She despised me. Despised Vaughn, too, and I don't use that word lightly. She truly couldn't stand the two of us and made no attempt to disguise it. Hating her own flesh and blood, for literally no reason. Insane, right?"

"More than insane." Cam's brow lowers. "That's seriously fucked up."

"I know. The good thing was she loved to travel, so she was gone more often than not. That's when things were the best—when it was just me and Vaughn in the house by ourselves. We'd play soccer together in the backyard, build elaborate pillow forts in the living room, watch TV and eat junk food until one in the morning on school nights. Those were some of my favorite memories growing up."

I twist a stray thread from my sleeve around my finger and continue.

"But when Vaughn went off to college, things took a turn for the worse. My mom went from mostly ignoring my existence to constantly instigating fights. To this day, I still can't pinpoint what triggered the abrupt change, but it was bad. Like, bad bad. Incessant shouting, insults, name-calling...just an endless amount of verbal abuse that really started to wear me down. I consider myself pretty thick-skinned, but there's just something about your own mom telling you how unwanted you are that cuts deep."

"Shit," Cameron mumbles.

"Things between us were beyond toxic, and I knew something was bound to go terribly wrong sooner than later. I was right."

I pause for a moment, hesitant to reveal the final portion of the story.

I'm not one to divulge too many details about my hardships. I prefer to handle my shit alone, deal with it in private and on my own terms. Being vulnerable with anyone who lends an ear isn't my jam.

But Cameron isn't just anyone.

The way he's fully focused on me, soaking in every word, every syllable; how safe and secure I feel in his protective grasp...

My guard is completely down for this man.

"I've never told anybody this before," I begin, "and please, please, don't tell Vaughn, okay?"

"I won't." He gives me a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "You know I won't."

"When I was seventeen, I came home from a soccer tournament late one summer night. I was freaking exhausted from playing in the hot sun all day long, and the only things on my mind were a long shower and a good night's sleep. I got to the top of the stairs when suddenly my mom was in my face, screaming at me to turn around and clean the oven or mop the floor or something of that nature. It's hard to remember the specifics."

My forehead wrinkles. "Whatever it was, it was ridiculous because it was eleven at night and could definitely wait until the next day. I told her I was too tired from my games and I'd do it the next morning, but she didn't like that response. She went berserk, bitching and shouting like it was the most important thing in the universe. I tried to brush past her, but she wouldn't let me. She put her hands on my shoulders and shoved me backwards—hard. Next thing I remember was waking up at the bottom of the staircase, bruised and shocked and just completely horrified at what she did."

"What the fuck?" Cameron's body goes tense beneath me. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"That's assault, Sydney."

"I know." A heavy breath escapes me. "She'd never gotten physical before, but it didn't matter. One time was one time too many, so I packed my bags and left. I stayed with a friend for a few months and the literal day I turned eighteen, I moved into my own apartment. It was a total shithole, plus it was over an hour away from my high school, but there's only so much a couple hundred bucks a month can get you. The ceilings were growing mold, there was no air conditioning or heating unit, and I would fall asleep to the sound of rats and roaches scurrying around, praying they wouldn't climb into bed with me. Although, technically speaking, I didn't even have a proper bed—I slept on a cheapy futon I bought off Craigslist that smelled awful." I shudder at the unpleasant olfactory memory. "I learned to deal with it. Anything was better than being under my mother's roof."

"Damn." Cameron studies me for a moment. "You've experienced a lot."

"The whole thing was quite an experience, that's for sure." I shrug it off. "But I feel like it's just made me stronger as a person. Independent, you know? Like I can handle anything life throws my way."

He's still staring at me, brows drawn together in contemplation.

"You're resilient as hell," he mumbles, a hint of admiration in his tone. "You had to grow up fast."

"Yep." I nod. "But there's no other choice in the situation. A lot of other people have had it way worse than me, so I really can't complain. I grew up with a roof over my head, food to eat, clean water...And not to mention an older brother to guide me along the right path."

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and continue. "Vaughn and I are extremely close because we were all the other had. He's way overprotective of me for a reason—he wasn't just my older sibling, he basically raised me. Taught me how to read, how to ride a bike, all sorts of things. And as I got older, he had to take on responsibilities that my mother 100% should have handled. Like when I was eleven and got my first period? It wasn't my mom that took me to the store and bought me feminine hygiene supplies. It was Vaughn who had that great honor."

Cameron emits a genuine laugh, the sound instantly brightening the mood in the room.

"He's a good brother," he says.

The memory of poor 14-year-old Vaughn scratching his head as he tried to read the back of a tampon box has me cracking a smile.

"The best."

"And he didn't do so bad with you." One side of his mouth lifts into a playful smirk. "You turned out okay."

"Just okay?" I poke him on the chest. "Rudeee. Try again."

"Decent?"

When I raise both brows in challenge, a grin spreads across his face.

"Alright, fine. You turned out damn near perfect."

"Much better."

I give him a goofy smile—one that makes him groan.

"There is something I wish he hadn't taught you, though. That freaking grin is identical to his. You look exactly like him when you do that. It's creepy."

"What? You mean this?"

I produce the signature smile again, which earns me a pointed look and a gruff command.

"Stop."

He covers my entire face with one palm—the guy has baseball mitts for hands, my God—but when I not-so-gently sink my teeth into his skin, he has no choice but to pull back.

"Shit," he says as he inspects the tiny tooth marks with a chuckle. "She bites."

"She does." I nod and my Steel-smile grows even wider.

"That's fucking with my brain. Quit it, Baby Blue. Or else."

"Nope."

"Fine." His shoulders raise in a casual shrug. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"What are you going to—"

My question is cut short by my howls of laughter as he starts tickling my ribs. His fingers go into overdrive, relentless on their mission to torture me.

"Oh my gosh—Cam-Cameron!" I wheeze out his name, tears of laughter pooling in my eyes. "I surrender!"

He grabs my waist, flipping us over in one swift movement. Now he's above me, his hands propped on either side of my head, his body hovering just over mine, dominant and strong.

"You done with that face?" he questions.

"Yes." My head bobs up and down vigorously. "I swear!"

"Good. 'Cause I really don't wanna have to put a paper bag over your head."

"You'd put a bag on my head?" I push out my bottom lip in a mock-pout. "Mean."

"Nah, I wouldn't." He chuckles and smiles down at me, brushing a few baby hairs from my forehead. "You're too gorgeous for that. Way too fucking gorgeous."

Suddenly, he closes the distance between us. Soft lips meet mine with tenacity, a gasp of delight catching in my throat at the welcome surprise.

Sparks fly as our tongues connect, his sweet peppermint taste awakening me. Every nerve-ending fires, every fiber of my being springs to life...

His mouth on mine never fails to set my entire world aflame.

And his lips on my sensitive flesh, where they're headed right this second?

Equally tantalizing.

He sucks on my neck, and I breathe out an appreciative moan. His tongue flicks just under my jawline, that small area where my pulse is racing and my vein is throbbing. I grip his shoulders and squeeze my legs together because holy. Freaking. Crap.

That might be my sweet spot. My ultimate weakness.

And Cameron likes it, too.

I feel him between my thighs—hard, hot, straining beneath his jeans. Body heat radiates off of him in waves, warming me to the core.

The layers of clothing between us become too much. Too obstructive.

I need his bare skin flush against mine.

Now.

Reaching down, I grab the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head impatiently. He sits up, broad chest and taut torso fully exposed, and I drink it all in. His body is unreal: a sculpture of anatomic perfection.

My hands explore the work of art. Over his shoulders, down his pecs, across the ridges of his abdomen...When I trace the tip of each index finger down that glorious V-muscle, all the way to his low-slung denim, his head lolls back, eyes squeezing shut with pleasure.

I wrap my fingers over the edge of his boxer briefs, dipping just inside the waistband. His hips thrust forward as he emits the sexiest groan I've ever heard.

"Your turn," he growls as he eyes my shirt.

He peels off the tight turtleneck and tosses it across the room. My bra is next to go, the black lace unclipped and removed, my nipples tightening as they're exposed to the cold air.

I don't have a lot going on upstairs—the downsides of an athletic build—but Cameron gazes at my body like he can't get enough. Like he wants to worship every inch of me.

"Fuck, Sydney," he mutters, eyes half-mast. "You're so damn beautiful."

He cups my breasts in his large hands, biting down on his lip as he slowly starts to tease each nipple. The sensation of his thumbs rolling over the sensitive buds has my back arching off the bed, my body begging for more.

And he gives it to me.

He dips his head down, mouth joining his hands in their exploration. After a few minutes of pure bliss, his lips start to venture down my stomach in a trail of soft, sensual kisses.

Pleasure surges through me as he rolls down my leggings. My pale pink underwear do little to hide my aroused state. Cam curses under his breath at the sight.

Just as he starts to peel back the thin fabric, I stop him.

"Cameron," I choke out.

His fingers dig into my hips as he pauses. "Yeah?"

"I haven't, uh..." I clear my throat.

"What?"

"I'm not that experienced," I admit.

Blonde brows furrow for a moment, but he catches on quick.

"No one's ever gone down on you before?"

I shake my head.

"Oh shit," he mumbles with a sinful grin. "You're gonna fucking love this." His head cocks to the side. "Unless this is moving too fast. You want me to stop?"

I don't.

I really, really don't.

But I felt like I needed to tell him I'm new to this. For the past couple weeks, we've taken our time getting to know one another physically, keeping things mostly above-the-waist.

Coming to his bedroom, however, I knew there was a strong possibility we'd take things further.

And I'm ready for it.

The few times I rounded some bases as a teen, the guys were clumsy and unsure of themselves. Sloppy kisses, fumbling fingers, and a desperate need for a lesson on women's anatomy, they weren't exactly the type of hook-ups you write home about.

My eyes stray to the guy between my legs. With swollen lips and a lust-filled gaze, his confidence and sexual prowess are palpable.

The boys in high school were just that—boys.

Cameron?

He's a man.

"Answer me, Sydney," he demands. His warm breath washes over my core and I moan so loud it could wake the dead. He smirks at my reaction, then lifts a brow. "Should I slow down?"

"No," I say without hesitation.

"You sure?" His lips find the inside of my thigh. I immediately melt into an aching, squirming mess.

When he drags his thumb over my center, circling my most sensitive part, I let out a gasp and my head falls back on the pillow.

Now he's just straight up torturing me.

"Keep going," I beg. "Please keep going."

That does the trick.

In a flash, my underwear are nowhere to be seen. Cam groans in delight as he takes me in, fully naked and exposed in his bed, and begins to work his magic.

He licks me up and down, slow and calculated motions that have me soaking wet within seconds. Strong hands grip my upper thighs, pinning me to the mattress as he eats me like his last meal.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he mumbles against my core. "Damn."

When he applies pressure to my clit with his warm, wet tongue, I swear I die and go to heaven.

"That's...oh." I whimper, unable to form words. He skillfully laps, sucks, licks—honestly, I don't even know what he's doing, but it's utter perfection.

I wrap my legs around his shoulders, shamelessly grinding against his face because fuck. This feels amazing. I bury my hands in his hair, gripping the short strands as I rapidly approach my climax.

"Cameron, I—oh my God," I moan as I completely unravel beneath him. My heart pounds, my eyes squeeze shut, and I ride out the strongest orgasm I've experienced in my freaking life.

After I come down from the high, my vision no longer obstructed by stars and dots, I sit up and immediately reach for Cameron's pants.

"Oh fuck," he rasps as I tug his jeans down and free his erection.

His erection that is most definitely in proportion to his 6'6'' stature.

I take his long, hard length in my palm, sliding up and down his shaft. My steady strokes increase in speed and he jerks his hips forward, growling in pleasure.

"Lay down," he demands, freeing himself from my grasp. "I don't wanna come in your hand. I need to be inside you."

Desire curls in my stomach as I fall back onto the mattress, letting him take over. He grips himself at the base, lining up at my entrance. I emit a sharp gasp as he thrusts inside, filling me completely.

"Damn." His eyes shut for a moment or two as he tries to hold it together. "You feel so fucking good."

Eyelids flutter open, revealing his dilated pupils, and he begins to move in and out. He starts slow, easing me into the feeling, but it doesn't take long before I'm begging for more.

"Faster," I whisper.

One side of his mouth lifts in a sexy smirk as he fulfills my wish.

He places one hand on my waist for leverage, his other hand gripping the headboard above me. He picks up the pace, his thrusts hard and fast and powerful. Each time he fills me, the sensual pressure builds, sending me closer to the edge.

"Sydney..." He groans, his hand tightening around the wooden headboard as he starts to lose control. His tattoos illuminate in the orange rays of sunset that pour into the bedroom. I reach up, tracing my fingers down his ink-covered arm.

"I'm gonna come," he mumbles, voice deep and alluring. He lets his head dip down to his chest, breaths becoming labored and strained as he fucks me harder.

Seeing Cameron on the verge of orgasm, so primal, so wild with arousal...it's hot as hell.

So hot that I'm the one that crosses the finish line first.

My walls clench around him as another tidal wave of bliss overtakes me. My sudden orgasm immediately sets him off. He emits one final masculine growl and goes still, his hard length pulsing inside me as he comes.

We climax together in perfect harmony, bodies completely in tune. Spent and more than satisfied, we collapse onto the mattress, chests heaving as we recover.

"Holy shit," I murmur once I've finally caught my breath. "Wow."

"Yeah." He nods in my peripheral. "Wow is right."

"That was..."

"God damn amazing," he finishes for me.

He reaches over, tugging me into his side against his flushed skin. His lips find my forehead, and I melt at the gentle touch.

This connection we have, this mental, emotional, and physical bond between us—it's just insane.

I never expected this.

For the next few minutes, we watch day turn to night from his bedroom window. Wrapped in Cameron's protective arms, his heartbeat a steady drum under my palm, Love me Tender by Elvis serenading us as the sun disappears beneath the horizon...

Nothing will ever feel as perfect as this moment right now.