On My Knees (12 page)

She giggled, pushing my forearm down, and my hand slipped from her warm flesh.

I stilled. “What?”

“Your hands are freezing.” She laughed, the smile meeting her eyes.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

I went to move when she spoke.

“Don’t stop.”

She slid her fingers through my hair, stilling my retreat. Her tongue slid along her bottom lip. My balls tightened. Christ, I wanted this woman. My brain had no say whether it the right time or not. I needed to be inside her, and soon.

I tightened my grip on her hip. “If I kiss you again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

“Then kiss me,” she whispered.

She pulled me back down to her mouth, fisting her hands tightly, tugging at the root, a sure sign she didn’t want me to stop. I had no plans to.

Time stood still. Nothing mattered but this closeness and having her in my arms. I kissed her jaw, her neck, then her mouth again until we were breathless. Nothing could stop me. Each motion heightened my urgency to have her, taking me higher.

My head buzzed, my heart raced, and I had the unmistakable sensation that I was standing at the edge of a cliff. I had no idea what was at the bottom, but I knew if I slept with her, I would go past the point of no return. I loved her once, and if I fell for her again, I’d never have her out of my system. Yet for all my wanting to wait for the right time, tonight seemed as good a time as ever. And I could show her exactly how I wasn’t like any of the others who’d come before.

The thought of wiping out the memory of any other man in her life spurred me. Sucking her tongue, I lifted her against my thigh, ensuring just the right amount of friction to drive her wild. She moaned, kissing me back with all the fervor I’d come at her with. I was impossibly hard, on fire despite the cold. I couldn’t stop myself.

Her small gasps and moans drove out the inconvenient fact that we were still making out in a snow bank until the sound of distant voices sobered me momentarily. I tore myself away from her lips and the frustrating exploration of her clothed body.

“Damn it.” I caught my breath a minute. Begrudgingly I rose, lifting her with me.

I was an odd mixture of wet and cold and hot and bothered by the time we got vertical again. I didn’t want to let her go, but frankly we couldn’t get much further without public indecency.

“We should head back.” She brushed the wet snow off of her jeans.

“Yeah, we should get you warm.”

“And dry. I’m soaking wet.”

I forced myself to ignore the alternate meaning to the comment, took her hand, and headed for the car, determined to break all her rules.

MAYA. We drove the short ride back in silence, Cameron’s hand clasped around mine. The contact wasn’t casual, but rather firm, our fingers laced tightly together and resting on his thigh as he steered us back to my apartment. His gaze was intent on the road, the look of determination plain on his beautifully shadowed features.

He squeezed my hand gently as I continued to stare in a tangle of wonder and worry. That simple touch was our only connection, but it was a meaningful one, like a thread between our hearts that had always existed, even through distance. Now with our reunion, that thread was tugging at my heart—hard and painful tugs that were increasingly difficult to ignore and pass off as the result of latent memories. They were the stirrings of new feelings mixed with the old.

I’d banished those kinds of feelings from my life for too long to face them calmly now. I’d had plenty of lovers. They’d been good guys, most of them, not the sex-driven devils I made them out to be. In truth, relationships might have flourished without too much effort, but as soon as deeper feelings had begun to take root, I found myself withdrawing. At first, I’d done it subconsciously, blaming it on a lack of interest or some imagined fault or innuendo. Eventually I isolated the recurring moment of fear, the moment when their rejection had the power to hurt me. And I couldn’t go back there. Cameron had devastated me at the end. I’d toss back every fish in the sea to avoid feeling any of that again.

Yet here I was, dancing with the devil who’d broken me beyond repair. The threat of rejection muddled with this undeniable attraction, a pulsing energy between us that had always pulled me under, deep into the throes of our love. Is that what he wanted again? After what I’d told him tonight, maybe he really was out to prove that he wasn’t like the rest. The reality was that he couldn’t be anything at all if I had any hope of saving myself.

The silence between us stretched as we walked up to the apartment. No exchange was needed. I’d offered the unspoken invitation back at the park, and the dark look in his eyes had accepted. One step across the threshold and he had me pinned again. We tugged our coats off, and he roamed his hands freely across my skin where my sweater met my jeans, up along my ribs, daring to go higher. The sharp rise into my desire hit me, his own hard against me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. He circled my waist, lifting me high and tight against him. The friction between us was enough to drive me out of my mind. Lust burned through me, threatening my resolve, my better judgment, and all the carefully constructed rules I’d learned to trust to keep my heart safe.

His mouth and hands moved over me, passionately claiming my body, the same one he’d once known so intimately. Nothing about this was tentative. Every movement held the promise of pleasure. Fuck, did I want him. In that moment, I let myself feel it all. I road it out until I was wet with need and ready to scream with the frustration.

Our lips broke contact. I swallowed hard and caught my breath. I couldn’t surrender to this. Not tonight. Rational thought was breaking through. I caught his arm, pressuring it down.

“I’m going to go change,” I said, my voice breathy, weighted with my doubt.

He stared, confusion plain on his face. I pushed him gently back so I could make my escape. I couldn’t think straight with him so close, and I desperately needed to think instead of act on my raging impulses right now.

“Make some coffee or help yourself to whatever. I’ll be right back.”

CAMERON. Reluctantly, I let her go and she disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Clothes between us, and now a door. I scowled, irritated by the small things that separated us that had never used to. I shoved my hands in my pockets, not wanting to dwell on the fact that I’d personally created all the obstacles between us now.

I wasn’t sure why she’d pushed me away. In an effort to distract myself, I walked around the small room, taking in its small details, wishing my frustration would ebb.

She and Eli seemed to live simply, which surprised me. Everything about Maya since I’d seen her in New York had been about keeping up with some sort of unspoken standard. The way she dressed and put herself together most of the time ran in contrast to the simple girl I used to know, but her home seemed incredibly normal and moderate. Mismatched well-worn furniture adorned the room, and the only decorations were photos of her, Eli, and their group of friends. I studied the photos, unable to keep from smiling at the ones where she was laughing and posing. She looked like she was on the other side of fun in most of them, but she was happy. A dull pain burned in my chest. I wanted to make her that happy.

I sat on the couch, willing myself to relax. What was taking so damn long? I wanted to find her in the bedroom, interrupt her wardrobe change, and promptly undress her. Press her against the wall the way I’d pressed against her moments ago, skin to skin.

Fuck all.
No. I leaned forward, propping my elbows on my knees. I had to distract myself so I didn’t come at her like a wild fucking animal. I couldn’t risk pushing her away. We had to take this slow. I repeated the mantra, desperate to convince myself. If we had any chance of achieving
more
in the long-term sense—whatever the hell that even meant in Maya’s new warped version of relationship statuses—we had to.

I grabbed the remote on the table in front of me and switched on the television, muting the volume. I dropped it back down. Next to it, a black spiral notebook sat. Several loose pages were stuffed in and beside it. The sheets peeking out were scrawled with handwriting I immediately recognized as Maya’s.

As I reached for them, Maya emerged. I lifted my gaze to her. She was dressed in yoga pants and a hoodie. Her eyes were wide with concern that hadn’t been there before. She walked to the table and quickly stuffed the errant papers into the notebook. Taking a few steps away, she held the book close to her chest.

“Everything okay?”

Her lips parted. Her gaze was fixed on me. “Everything’s fine.” Her voice wavered. She set the notebook on the shelf behind her. Joining me on the other end of the couch, she pulled her legs under her and stared at the soundless television.

She shivered, tightening her hold around herself. Something had shifted between us over the course of the past few minutes. I had no idea why. All I knew was I wanted her in my arms again.

“Come here,” I whispered, holding my hand out to her.

Her gaze flickered, casting up at me from under her eyelashes. “Cam, we shouldn’t—”

Before she could talk me out of it, I reached for her, pulling her close so her legs fell over my thighs, the rest of her body cradled against me.

Without another word, her body relaxed, melting into me. The shivers stopped and there was only the sound of our breathing. Afraid to speak, to bring attention to whatever had suddenly come between us, I simply held her. I’d been without her for so long, I had no right to want more, to ask for more. This was enough. For now, this was enough.

MAYA. I stared blankly at the screen in front of me. The numbers and letters blurred. All I could think about was Cameron’s mouth on me, his body crushed against me. The attraction hummed between us. I’d pushed him away just in time. One more second against the wall and my already weak willpower would have snapped like a twig. If I hadn’t interrupted the moment, I had little doubt we would have spent the night in my bed instead of curled up on my couch watching bad television until we couldn’t keep our eyes open.

If Cameron had been anyone else, I would have slept with him without a second thought. When it came to men, I was impulsive, yet always carefully guarded. I’d been this way for years, never saying no to a vice or a pleasure that could bring me through a difficult moment right into the next. Cameron was turning into both a vice and a pleasure of the most dangerous variety.

I wanted him, and he wanted me, but as we climbed the stairs to the apartment, a little voice that knew better had reminded me that something more was at stake—my heart, the same one he’d destroyed when he left me the first time. The same destruction I’d written about and that I really hoped he hadn’t read. The thought of him looking through that window into the world of my words was exponentially worse than facing Eli’s inebriated opinions.

I closed my eyes, trying in vain to lessen the torrent of emotions. Being with Cameron now was like a slow dance, and every time we met, we came closer. We touched more, laughed more. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t fight the way he made me feel from one minute to the next, which varied from massive irritation to the potent desire pulsing through me at the moment. God, what I wouldn’t do to be in his arms now. One of these days I’d find myself pressed against him, begging him for more, drowning out that tiny voice of reason, and very likely barreling headfirst into inevitable heartbreak.

I groaned inwardly and crossed my legs, painfully aware of how badly I wanted him. My body remembered him, regardless of my mind’s better judgment. My skin heated with the memory of his touch. Unless one of us had the good sense to stop it, sleeping together wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

I jolted when the phone on my desk rang. I picked it up and my boss’s predictably curt voice came through the receiver.

“Maya, come see me in my office please.”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.”

I took a deep breath and my mind spun over what he’d want to meet me about. Kevin Dermott rarely had anything nice to say to me. Since I’d been at the company, he’d only spoken to me to note a shortcoming or highlight what he wanted me to do next. Positive reinforcement was a foreign concept to him.

I walked into his office. He was poring over some papers at his desk but motioned for me to sit at one of the chairs facing his desk. Dermott was in his mid-forties and predictably clean cut, with a crew cut of dark blond hair and a gray suit that highlighted the gray in his eyes. He was an attractive man, and I might have counted that among his qualities if he weren’t such a prick most of the time. He wore a simple platinum band on his ring finger, reminding me that I wasn’t the only woman who had to tolerate him.

“You were late from lunch today,” he said.

“Yes, well, I—”

“I’m expecting those reports today, as we discussed.”

“I’ll have them to you within the hour. I’m almost done.”

“Good.”

Never mind that I’d worked through most of my lunch. I decided not to bother defending myself. He was in the mood to railroad me so I didn’t want to spoil his moment. Instead, I sat patiently waiting for him to continue.

“The holiday party is next week. Assuming you’ll be attending?”

“Yes, of course.” I’d planned to attend out of sheer obligation. Sober mingling with dozens of people who I had the displeasure of working with on a daily basis was not my idea of good times. If I had anything to drink, I’d end up telling every last one of them what I really thought about them, as I was apt to do at the end of every Saturday night.

“The company officers will be there. There’s a deal coming through that we’ll need extra hands for, and they may be interested to know who will be involved.”

“Are you saying you want me to be involved?”

He sat back in his chair and looked me over. “Despite your attitude, yes. You’re one of the best people I have. This would be a good opportunity for you, that is, if you don’t have other plans for the holiday. It could run into Christmas.”