“Mom?” All eyes swing to Ryder, who stumbles into the kitchen in workout shorts similar to Cameron’s, shirtless, and scratching his scalp through wild blond hair. “What are you doing here?”
D’lilah’s staring at her son, Cameron’s scowling at her, and Ryder’s looking back and forth between them. Suddenly feeling very out of place, I sidestep the group and move to disappear from the room.
“Eve. Don’t take another fucking step.” Cameron’s growled words freeze my progression.
“All righty.”
“’Li, who I have spending the night in my house isn’t your concern,” Cameron says, his tone vacant and borderline angry.
“I disagree.” She motions to me with a flick of her hand, and for the first time I’m seeing more of the confident diva I expected in D’lilah Monroe. “I know you guys want to live like a couple of playboy bachelors, but, Cam, allowing our seventeen-year-old son to have sex with his girlfriend under your roof is irresponsible.”
Oh fuck.
Everyone in the room goes still, with backs ramrod straight, and stares at D’lilah for a few silent seconds. Ryder clears his throat, but doesn’t swallow the high-pitched groan of restrained laughter. I slide my gaze to him, and he throws his head back in a booming roar.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Cameron braces his weight on the counter, drops his chin to his chest, and shakes his head.
She moves her eyes through the room, confusion etched on her pretty face. “What?”
I step forward, and Cameron turns his narrowed eyes toward me.
I ignore him and look at D’lilah. “I’m not spending the night with your son.”
“Eve.” Cameron’s warning me, but against what? Upsetting her? What’s worse? Her thinking her son is having sleepover dates or her ex-husband?
“Cameron and I are dating.” There. I said it. “And I’m twenty-one years old. Not underage. But I’ve been told I have a baby face if that makes you feel better.”
Her jaw goes slack for a second before realization tightens her expression. She glares at Cameron. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“’Li.”
“You do see what you’re doing, right?” She motions to me with a forceful swing of her arm. “Look at her!”
What in the hell is she talking about? Yep, she’s definitely off her rocker.
“Mom, calm down.” Ryder moves to my side in a way that feels like support.
She keeps her glare on her ex. “Tell me you see it, Cam.”
Cameron looks at me with a blank stare, as if he’s doing it to make her happy but not really looking for anything. “D’lilah, you need to get your ass home.”
Her shoulders slump. “I can’t believe you don’t see it: her youth, hair, face. Look at her, Cam. Really look at her.”
Everyone stares at me, and I watch in shock as something registers on Ryder’s face. But what?
“Holy crap.” Ryder’s looking between his mom’s face and mine. “That’s some freaky shit.”
Cameron doesn’t say anything.
She slaps her palm on the granite countertop. “She’s me fifteen years ago!”
“What?” Pain twists in my chest. I stare at Cameron, who’s staring right back at me, and I can see it. As if the words were written across his expression, he agrees with her.
It makes sense. I’ve idolized her most of my life. All those years of studying her image in magazines, I never saw it until now. Even our face shape and coloring is similar. Nausea rolls through my belly. Is that why Cameron’s with me? Searching for something he lost, or maybe an attempt at a second chance?
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth and shake my head.
“Ry, take your mom home,” Cameron says with a growl so fierce I feel it in my blood.
Ryder groans. “Come on, Mom.”
“No, it’s Sunday. I’m going with you guys.”
Cameron’s eyes snap to hers. “What?” He spits his question through gritted teeth.
For the first time since she showed up, she looks scared. “Cam, don’t—”
“You show up here, upset my woman, and now, without warning, you decide you’re ready to step up and be there?” Cameron leans over the breakfast bar. “Go the fuck home!”
“We all made that promise before—”
“Do not talk about that like you give a fuck, ’Li. It’s been too long, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna . . .” He blinks as if he just realized he’s in mixed company. “Just go home.”
Her eyes widen and fill with tears.
“No, not this time. You do not get off the hook by crying.”
An eerie silence fills the room, as if whoever talks first loses.
“Get her home, Ry.” Cameron moves toward me, snags my hand, and pulls me from the kitchen, down the hallway, and to his bedroom. He slams the door shut then pins me to it.
“Cameron—”
His mouth comes down on mine in a brutal kiss that’s so heavy with emotion it tightens my chest. He pulls my lips between his teeth, lashing his tongue against mine. Hands at my hips, he holds me in place, grinding his hard body against my soft one. This isn’t the kiss of seduction or one of sexual need. The sear of his lips screams of emotional release, the physical expression of an angry confession.