In the past several hours, all of Cameron’s feelings for her had been quietly and firmly reinforced. The innate sense of serenity that had always drawn him to her inspired in him a desperate longing never to leave her side, never to be without the peace her presence afforded him. In a loud and obnoxious world filled with deadlines and business, Margaret was an oasis of tranquility.
She was soft and graceful, gentle and kind. Her forbearance with her father and unconditional love for her sisters made him yearn for her constant company, made him rethink the entire path of his life with a prudence—a cautious thoughtfulness—that he’d never exercised.
Today he’d also learned something crucial about Margaret’s yin to his yang. On the outside, they might have looked, as she suggested last night, like a librarian and a hothead, but the beauty of their inverse symmetry was that he somehow encouraged her to loosen up, and she somehow inspired him to grow up. And the net of the equation was a feeling of profound rightness when they were together.
He no longer needed to think about his decision for Barrett.
He would sell.
C & C Winslow, his beloved father’s legacy, would always be something that Cameron had tried to keep afloat for as long as possible, to honor his father’s memory. But, unless he let it go, he would sink with it and drown . . . and forever lose his chance to fall in love with the most amazing woman in the world. And what he had suspected, but learned definitively today, was that there was no legacy, no memory, no duty lodged in the past that equaled the privilege of time spent with Margaret in the present and future. There was simply no other place in his life that afforded the sense of peace and belonging that he found sitting beside her. And once a man found that place—that person—he had a responsibility to secure her to his side with every drop of determination in his being.
Finding himself on the precipice of falling in love with Margaret, there was, quite simply, nothing he wasn’t willing to do in order to clear a path to her door.
He’d said it to her weeks ago—When I come for you, there’ll be no half measures, Meggie. When I come for you, I’ll be coming with everything I’ve got. And now? Now it was time.
Reaching over, he covered her hand with his and curled his fingers around hers. Without turning to him, she ran her thumb lightly over the back of his hand, and Cameron inhaled deeply, his decision settling in his mind with purpose, finality, and the deep satisfaction that he was finally taking his life in the right direction.
“Remember this morning in the lobby?” he asked her.
“Mm-hm,” she murmured, still staring at the musicians on the lawn, a lovely smile playing on her lips.
“Tell me more about how you’re falling for me.”
Her smile burst into a surprised giggle, and she turned to face him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like to hear a little more about that.”
She took a deep breath and smiled tenderly before answering, “You make me feel new.”
“What a perfect fucking answer,” he whispered, leaning forward to cup her jaw and capture her lips with his.
He leaned over the arms of the seats, hooked his arm around her back, and pulled her closer as the tip of her tongue swiped over the seam of their lips. He groaned into her mouth, licking her tongue, his lips sealing over hers as she wound her arms around his neck.
Their tongues tangled together, and heat shot like a bullet to his stomach, spreading lower to his cock, which hardened, straining against the denim of his pants. He slid his hand back into her hair, and she changed the position of their lips, tilting her head the other way and sucking his lower lip between hers. And fuck if it didn’t feel so good, he couldn’t help thinking about the other body parts that wanted her lips sucking on them too.
Running his thumb along her jaw, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, listening for her whimper, waiting for the arching of her back and the curling of her fingers against the back of his neck. He trailed his lips slowly down the length of her swanlike neck, lingering just under her ear, where he panted against her skin.
“Let’s go back to the cottage,” she said, her voice breathy and soft, but still urgent.
He nodded, resting his forehead against her neck, his lips close to her throbbing pulse. “Yeah.”
She moved just a little, nuzzling him, opening her throat to him, and he answered her silent plea, pressing hot kisses along the delicate column of her neck until he made his way back to her lips, which he claimed again. Her mouth was open, warm, and wet as he slid his tongue against hers, eliciting a sigh from deep in her throat as her fingers spread into the hair on the back of his head.