“Can’t help you if I don’t know the details, doll.” His calling me doll in that low rumbled voice has the power to make me do whatever he asks.
“Don’t need help. I’m good.” The words are mumbled so deeply into the pillow that I’m not even sure he heard them. The bed shifts, and then the heat of his hand strokes through my hair.
“Whatever happened was obviously bad enough that you went to seek comfort in your girl and the bottle. Not gonna lie, but you boozin’ doesn’t sit well with me. First, I know you don’t like the taste, and second I already got one drunken woman riding my ass all the time. But having said that, I understand why you’d want to numb the shit from you being let go.”
I roll over and fix my eyes on his, which are no longer totally glaring. “You do?”
“I do. I also know you’re freaked the fuck out to have no money after your dad took you for all you’re worth and you’re livin’ off tip money.”
I turn my head away and heat rushes to my cheeks. He cups my jaw and turns me to face him. “Talk to me.”
“I haven’t been living off tip money.” I’m so ashamed to be having this conversation that the words come out barely a whisper.
“What have you been living off of?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
His eyes go wider than I’ve ever seen them, which isn’t all that wide, but it’s shock he’s feeling, I’m sure. “You fucking with me?”
“No. I’ve been eating at work every day.”
“Shit, Eve, that’s one meal a day.”
I nod.
“You can’t live off that.”
“I did, up until the other night. I um . . . borrowed some money from the restaurant. The till was over. I honestly didn’t think anyone would notice. I was so fucking hungry, I hadn’t eaten all day, and I acted out of total desperation. Stupid, I know.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “We being honest?”
He nods.
“Because I want you to like me. And I already feel like you know enough about me not to like me. I didn’t want to give you another reason.”
“You think asking me for money would be a strike against you?”
“Cameron . . .”
His eyes go soft.
“I know guys like you: rich, powerful, handsome. Women throw themselves at you for a variety of reasons, but money is a huge motivator. I didn’t want you to think of me like that.” The kindness in his expression is drilling holes in my chest. I can’t take it and turn away. “Besides, I can do this. I’ve managed to take care of myself my whole life. I don’t need or want anyone’s help.”
He cups my face again, twisting me to him, but this time before I can even register his face, his mouth presses tight to mine and my eyes drift shut.
I tilt my head and part my lips to swallow his answering groan as his tongue glides into my mouth. The taste, like clean water and Cameron, floods my senses. I shove my fingers into his hair, holding him to me. Heat in my belly spreads south, and I push up on one arm, desperate to get closer. He grabs my hips, drags me across his lap, and I turn so that I’m straddling him.
All my worry and anxiety from the day work to further fuel my need. Like exercising for stress relief, I’m drowning in Cameron as therapy. I roll my hips, grinding down on the hard length that stands between us.
“Fuck, doll.” He holds my hips still, but tugs at my waistband. “You make me crazy.” He drags his lips down my throat.
I moan and drop my head to the side. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”
He pulls back and meets my eyes with a heavy lidded glare, but he doesn’t speak.
Oh no. That’s gotta be bad crazy.
*
Cameron
My fingers dig into the flesh of her hips. I’m out of control when I’m around her. Reacting to every irritant, jealousy rises up out of nowhere intent on destroying whoever’s in sight. First Mason, tonight my own kid. How the hell does she manage to fuck with me without seeming to have the slightest clue she’s doing it?
Good crazy or bad crazy? Shit . . . both.
I don’t take my eyes off hers, and she drops her gaze under my stare.
“Never mind. I think your non-answer is my answer.” Her hands slide from my neck down my arms.
“I was married to D’lilah for six years. In all that time, including the time we dated, I never went to battle with another man for her.”
She looks up at me, blinking. “But she’s D’lilah Monroe? I bet men were throwing themselves at her left and right.”
I nod. “They were. And sometimes right in front of me. It’s funny. Lookin’ back, I think I was numb to it, accepted the fact that marrying a supermodel would come with that kind of attention.”
“Had to be hard on a marriage.”
“That’s the fucked-up part. It wasn’t. So fuck, what does that say about my feelings for her? It’s not that I didn’t care about her; it’s just I didn’t care enough. Only thing I ever fought for was my career. Take my wife, yeah, it sucks, but I’ll live. Take away my fighting, and I hit my knees.”
“Hit your knees?”