I run my hands up and down the length of her bare body as she moves in waves with her fingertips dug into the thick of my chest. Her head is back and her lips are slightly parted. Needing another view to add to this memory, I grip her by the sides and flip her to her back. My hands continue to roam free, touching every inch of her body as my lips follow in the trails. Everything between us as teenagers was innocent and filled with an exciting fear of committing to the action in itself, but now, it’s filled with love, lust, and a commitment to please her more than anyone else has ever pleased her.
Tracing my tongue over her breast and around her nipple, her body jerks harder against me, and her fingernails leave sharper imprints in my skin. Her cries become audible, and her lips part wider, proving a lack of control. As her muscles tighten beneath my grip, I drop my head toward her neck and nip at her ear before dragging my tongue from her lobe to her collar bone. “Only you,” she cries. “My God, AJ.”
I reach beneath her back, sliding my hands down to her ass and grip firmly to hold her against me with more force, finding a way to deepen our connection. The pressure triggers her to come undone through the mixture of moans and cries, and she releases the strength of her muscles, falling heavily into my arms with erratic breaths. The warmth of our connection flows from me to her as I fall beside her on the bed. “It was never like that before,” I rasp in her ear.
“This is why we waited,” she laughs softly. “A woman making love with a man is a much different experience than two teenagers breaking some rules.” Cammy presses her face against the side of my neck, and I feel her smile stretch against my overly sensitive skin. “All good things are worth waiting for.”
“I would have waited forever for this—for you,” I sigh, letting my head fall deeper into the pillow. “So, since we started as teenagers, it’s only appropriate for me to assume we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now that we’ve slept together,” I tell her.
She turns onto her side and sweeps the palm of her hand against my cheek. “I thought you’d never ask me again.”
“One condition, Cameron,” I tell her.
“Yes, Andrew,” she laments.
“Don’t you ever leave me again,” I tell her softly, as I wrap my arms around her.
“I couldn’t put myself through that another time,” she says, warmly. “But can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I tell her.
She traces her finger over my chest—my heart. “When did you get this tattoo?”
“The week I turned eighteen,” I tell her.
“Ever’s birthmark,” she says quietly—knowingly.
“It was the only way to cover up my broken pieces.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’M NOT SURE how much we slept or didn’t sleep but we woke up an hour ago, and now we’re watching the sun rise through the side window while we quietly sip on coffee. “I almost never wake up before Gavin,” I tell her. “But there’s something about the quiet that’s an encouragement to get up before the sun.”
“He’s adorable,” she says. “How has he been doing through all of this?”
I take a long look at Cammy before formulating my answer. The casualness of our setting is a dream I’ve always had. She’s in flannel pajama bottoms with a loose, white cotton top. Her caramel hair is in a messy knot on the top of her head and even without makeup, she’s glowing like she always did when we were young.
“You’re beautiful, more beautiful now than you ever were,” I tell her, leaving behind the question she just asked.
“You’re changing the subject,” she says with a soft smile.
“It’s been the hardest thing I’ve had to witness next to Hunter losing Ellie. It’s like Tori died too. In a sense, she did. The Tori I knew before we had Gavin no longer seems to exist. For the first few weeks after she left, Gavin would sit up and cry for her, calling ‘Mama’ every two minutes. She was never a great mother, but Gavin never judged her for that. I had to listen to him call her name night after night, and I sat there and cried like a baby myself while he did it. I didn’t know how long it would take for him to understand that she wasn’t coming back.”
Cammy’s eyes fill with tears and she’s quick to wipe the loose droplets from her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“I took him to the pediatrician almost every day, scared he was suffering from a broken heart or something. I don’t know how this kind of stuff affects a small child, and I was scared I wasn’t handling it right, you know?” I can feel the familiar burn behind my eyes sneak up, and I don’t want to go there right now so I take another sip of my coffee and create a long pause in our conversation.
“Can I tell you something?” she asks.
Still afraid to speak, I nod my head.
“You’re doing better than I could have done. He’s dressed perfectly. You over-packed for him,” she giggles.
“How do you know?” I ask with a questioning grin.
“He woke up at four this morning. He had a wet diaper, so I changed him and rocked him back to sleep.” The tears are unstoppable now, and I pinch my fingers around the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. I’m a fucking mess. The thought of someone else caring for my son means so much to me. What I used to have to beg Tori to do for her own son, Cammy has done without even being asked. I feel a glimmer of what it might be like to have a partner in parenting.