His hand wrapped around mine. “Keep your eyes closed, okay?”
“They’re closed.” I let him lead me out of the kitchen and into my living room.
Cam let go of my hand and slid his arm around me from behind, pressing his cheek against me. Months ago I hated when anyone stood behind me, but I loved it when he did. The feel of his arms, the strength of his embrace, the intimacy behind it.
“You can open your eyes now.” His lips brushed my cheek, sending shivers across my skin. “Or you can stand there with your eyes closed. I like that, too.”
I laughed as I placed my hands above where his rest on my stomach and opened my eyes. My jaw hit the floor. “Oh my God, Cam…”
Before me, sitting on a stand, in a fifty gallon terrarium completely decked out with sand and rock bedding, leafy foliage and a hidey-hole, was a tortoise almost the size of my hand.
He chuckled. “You like?”
“Like?” Stunned, I nodded as I pulled free, placing my hands on the glass. The little guy inside pulled his head back. “I… I love it.”
“Good.” He stood beside me. “I thought Raphael could use a play date.”
I laughed again, blinking back tears. “You shouldn’t have done all of this, Cam. This is…too much.”
“It’s not that much and everyone needs a pet turtle.” He bent his head, kissing my cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Spinning around, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. When I pulled back, his eyes were pools of blue fire. “Thank you.”
He kissed me again, soft and achingly tender. “You’re welcome.”
Sliding my arms to his waist, I leaned against his chest. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“You know, I really don’t know. Supposedly you can tell by the shape of their shell, but hell if I know.”
I grinned. “Well, boy or girl, I’m going to name him Michelangelo.”
Cam tipped his head back and laughed. “Perfect.”
“We just need two more.”
“So true.”
Wiggling free, smiled up at him. “Be right back.” I rushed into my bedroom and grabbed the card I’d stuck the tickets in. When I got back to the living room, Cam was adjusting the heat lamp on the terrarium. He turned, smiling softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said, all but shoving the card in his hands. My cheeks flushed. “It’s not as cool as your gift, but I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” Lips curved up on one said, he carefully opened the envelope and pulled the card out. I hadn’t written much in the card, because I had no idea what to write. I’d settled on a quick message and my name.
I held my breath as he opened the card. The half grin spread into a full smile as he slid the two tickets between his fingers. He peered up through his lashes. “This is an absolutely amazing gift, sweetheart.”
“Really?” I clasped my hands together, pleased. “I hoped you’d like it. I mean, I know not playing soccer sucks and I hope this doesn’t make you sad going to the game and you don’t have to take me—”
Cam claimed my mouth like a man half-starved. There was nothing slow about the kiss; it was a whole different level of seduction. “Of course I’m taking you. The gift is perfect,” he said, nipping at my lower lip in a way that caused heat to sweep over me, leaving me needy. “You’re perfect.”
An insidious voice crept in. If he only knew how far from perfect I really me. I pushed that thought away, letting myself fall into his kiss. That wasn’t hard. Not when he drank from me as if he’d been deprived of the act for far too long.
His hands dropped to my hips and he pulled me to him. Against my belly, I felt his arousal. Cam was a… sexual man, so it came as no surprise he was that hard that quickly, but it always amazed me how badly he did want me but never pushed for what I knew he’d be oh-so down for.
When his grip on my hips tightened, I looped my arms around his neck. We seemed to be on some unconscious agreement, because he lifted me as I wrapped my legs around his waist. I moaned as he pressed against me and his tongue swept across mine.
He started walking, and my blood thundered in my veins. I knew where he was heading and excitement and nervousness warred inside me. He laid me on the bed and I leaned back, down the center. Pausing long enough to tug his sweater off over his head, he then placed his hands on either side of my head. The power and strength in his arms and body was overwhelming but not frightening.
Reaching up, I traced my finger over the flames surrounding the sun on the left side of his chest. “I love this tattoo,” I admitted. “Why did you get it?”
A half-grin appeared. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“It’s pretty lame.”