…
Eva woke nestled in bed with Cam’s even, sleeping breaths rustling her hair. For several disorientated moments, she couldn’t remember how she end up here, but didn’t care all that much because his arms were warm around her, his heartbeat comforting under her ear.
Then, as the fuzziness of sleep cleared, memories of last night seeped back. She reached up and traced the edge of the bandage on her neck. Yes, the whole thing had been real. Damn. She kind of hoped it had all been a terrifying dream.
The movement woke Cam, and his arms tightened around her. She smiled into his neck. “Your shoulder’s gotta be asleep by now.”
“Yup,” he agreed but made no move to release her.
“Why don’t you let me go?”
In a surge of movement, he changed positions and tucked her underneath him, his thighs trapping hers. “Never,” he said and dipped his head.
His lips, gentle on hers, stirred up a hot need low in her belly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged him down, demanding more. He indulged her, treating her to lingering kisses that stoked the fire burning within her.
Christ, she’d missed him.
His big hand traced the outline of her body, found the edge of her shirt, and pushed it up, exposing her bare skin. He broke away from her lips and slid lower, trailing kisses down her body. She arched toward his mouth and felt his lips curve as he nuzzled her lower belly.
“Still want that cookie cutter family?” he asked, working his way down her body. “Two-point-five kids, a minivan, a dog?”
“Hmm. That sounds…” Realization had her bolting upright, nearly knocking Cam in the chin with her knee. “Really fucking dull. I don’t want a dog. I want a parrot. And I’d rather get a root canal than be caught driving a minivan.”
Cam sat up, his hair rumpled and eyes hooded. “That so?”
“Yes, and I do want kids. A couple at least. And I still want them to have family dinners—most nights—and college funds. I want them to have a father they can rely on, who will always be there for them.” She leaned forward and cupped his cheeks in her hands. “And I very much want you to be their father, but I’m afraid I can’t trust myself to make this kind of decision anymore. My taste in men is as bad as my mother’s.”
“Hey,” he said, offended.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve known Preston for as long as I’ve known you. I thought I really knew him, and look how that turned out.”
“Because he’s a liar,” Cam pointed out. “A slick, professional liar who charmed his way past a lot of people’s defenses. You only saw the face he wanted you to see, the one he thought would be most attractive to you.”
She knew he was speaking the truth. That’s how serial killers operate. They lead double lives, showing the world a socially acceptable face while their victims are the only witnesses to their true evil. And yet… “How can I be sure I’m not making the same mistake with you?”
Cam removed her hands from his face and kissed each of her knuckles before twining his fingers through hers. “What was Preston’s favorite color?”
She blinked. “Um. Blue? I think.”
“Mine?”
“Red, same as mine. But that doesn’t prove anything.”
“His favorite food?” he persisted.
“He…” She searched her memory and came up blank. “I guess he never said.”
“Mine?”
“Baby carrots with a little bit of ranch dressing to dip them in.”
“His favorite sport?”
“Maybe…baseball? He took me to a few Nationals games, but…” When she trailed off, Cam tilted his head in a go on gesture. She sighed, seeing exactly where he was going with all this. “He spent most of the time on his phone and never paid much attention to the games.”
“Uh-huh. And my favorite sport?” Cam prompted.
“Hockey. You love the Caps, which is so sad because they always choke during playoffs.”
He smiled and shook his head in exasperation, but her calculated jab didn’t do its job and get him to change subjects. “What about my worst habit?”
His tone was all challenge now and the knots bunching up the muscles between her shoulders eased out. “Biting your nails. You started doing it after you stopped smoking.”
“Which was how long ago?”
“Shortly before we met. You quit cold turkey after eight years as a social smoker.”