On My Knees (16 page)

“You don’t believe me?”

“Whatever.” I waved my hand. “You’re not interested. I get it.”

His bright blue eyes widened slightly. “Trust me, I’m interested.”

I cocked my head at him. “Maybe Raina’s still up. Miss Perfect is probably patiently waiting for you on the back burner somewhere.”

A smile split his face. “Are you jealous, Maya?”

“Not in the least.” Shit, he was onto me. “You can screw whoever you want to and so can I.”

His smile slipped, and his eyes turned serious. “You made that point abundantly clear tonight. Who was that girl anyway? Did you even know her?”

“Her name is Jia. I
work
with her.” The words that justified my earlier lip lock with Jia seemed to float in the air toward Cameron and then come back to me, sounding just as idiotic as they must have sounded to him.

He shoved a hand through his hair. “Wow.”

A short laugh at his reaction escaped me, and I took a step back in my now dangerously high heels. I blinked, wanting the room and Cameron to appear to me more clearly. Fuck, I hated when I got this drunk. How did I get so far gone again?
Fucking fuck.

I cleared my throat. “I’m not your pristine virgin anymore, Cameron, so maybe we should just call it a night. Sorry you had to witness my fall from grace tonight. What can I say? I’m full of surprises, like you said.”

“Will you stop? All I’m saying is I wish you’d value yourself more. You’re out on the dance floor dressed to kill, with all these strangers grabbing at you. Are you trying to bait yourself?”

“You were out there grabbing me too. What does that say about you?” I poked at his shirt, my fingertip stopping abruptly against the rock hard muscle beneath.

“I’m not a sex-crazed stranger. I’ve been inside you, Maya. I’ve loved you. Does that give me no license to touch you, especially when you want to be touched? Wouldn’t you rather it be me than someone you don’t know from Adam? Or is this part of your weekend routine? Go clubbing and pick up some random guy, or girl, to fuck.”

The sorry way he looked at me when he said the words made me ill. I loathed the idea of being judged by someone who had no right to judge me. Tears pricked my eyes as a vile mix of embarrassment, shame, and outright rage coursed through me.

“I’d rather have a random string of one-night stands who took what they wanted, gave me what I needed, and didn’t judge me in the morning than be looked at the way you’re looking at me now, like I’m some kind of slut for dancing and looking good doing it. Fuck you and whatever self-righteous horse you rode in on.”

I had every right to be as sexually liberated as I damn well pleased. I clung to that tenet as I tried to pick myself self-esteem up off the floor. I spun, vaguely aware of having dropped my purse somewhere on the way in. I needed to find it and be on my way.

“I’m going home.” I scanned every surface, making my way farther into the spacious mostly finished bedroom. The small tableside lamp cast a warm light over the white bed, off the white walls and warm wood floors, sparsely covered with a few pieces of old furniture. This was where Cameron slept every night. I closed my eyes a second with the thought that he’d spent hundreds of nights here, so much closer to me than I ever thought he was.

“No way. You’re drunk. You’ll stay here, and I’ll take you home in the morning.” His voice was rough.

I found my tiny purse and spun back toward him. “I’m not so drunk that I can’t take a cab home.” I kept my voice steady. My anger was giving me new clarity, thank God.

“At this hour on a Saturday night, no. It’s not negotiable. Here.” He reached into his closet and tossed a white T-shirt on the bed. “You can wear this to sleep in.”

I scoffed at the cool delivery and his assumption that I’d stay simply because he demanded that I do. “You can’t hold me hostage here, you smug prick.”

He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his jaw setting with a ghost of smile, as if challenging me. He was a smug prick.

My growing irritation was sobering, but my head spun a little as I appraised the large bed beside us. The thought of finding my way home was unappealing, possibly more so than relenting to his demands. I stiffened my spine so I wouldn’t lose balance on my heels as I considered it.

“Where are you sleeping?” I asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Here, with you.” He nodded toward the bed.

I laughed. “Like hell you are. I’ll sleep on the couch then.”

I peeled off my tight dress and kicked my heels across the floor, too pissed and inebriated to care about being naked in front of him. Clad in my tiny black thong, I circled the bed and reached for the T-shirt. He caught it before I could, tossing it back into his closet.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“Are you going to give me that damn shirt or do I have to parade around here like a naked marionette?”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he caught his lower lip between his teeth. “Will you calm the fuck down?”

“I will not.”

I went to move around him into the closet when he circled me around the ribs and tossed me back onto the bed. I propped up on my elbows and opened my mouth to protest. The words caught in my throat when he tugged off his shirt, revealing the awe-inspiring details of his anatomy that I’d try to imagine so many times before.

Sweet Jesus.

His pectorals were flat and sculpted, the skin tight and pinched where they met the nook of his arms.
I want to lick him there, and over light disks of his nipples
. The walls of my sex clenched at the thought of my mouth on his skin, tasting every delicious inch of him. Because every inch was delicious. I knew this from experience. The pack of taut abdominal muscles flattened into the most pronounced vee I’d ever seen. Jesus Christ, did he live at the gym? No one—no one real anyway—looked that good.

My heart thumped rapidly. With the quiet determination of a man who had every intention of getting what he wanted, he crawled onto the bed after me. Catching my ankle, he lifted my leg and began a slow trail of kisses from my calf to my knee, repeating the journey on the other side.

I snapped my mouth shut to suppress a gasp at the contact, wishing I were sober enough to find the right words to stop him, to play a little hard to get. I could tell him to fuck off, but that seemed like it would backfire. Plus I was already a quivering mess at the way he was coming at me, like a predator hunting his prey. I was mad as hell, but I still wanted him. Possibly more than I ever had.

His journey took him higher, pressing hot kisses along the way. He took a hard suck of soft skin of my inner thigh, centimeters from the throbbing flesh of my sex. I moaned and let my head fall back. He inched his hand over my hip and belly, splaying his open hand between my jutting breasts. I lifted my head to gaze at him. His eyes were dark, so serious they took my breath away. With a little pressure, he flattened me to my back and wasted little time stripping me of the last tiny barrier of my clothing.

CAMERON. I stood at the edge of the bed a moment too long, simply staring. The worry that she’d run off or protest if I stopped was overrun by the overwhelming desire to capture this moment in my mind in case I lost her again. She was as perfect as I’d remembered. Small and pale, like the tiny broken creature she’d become. Heaven help me, I couldn’t have her tonight. Not like this. I had to rein in some sort of control over the animal that wanted to spread her out and fuck her senseless straight into the morning. Hours of fucking her wouldn’t be enough. Once I was there, tight inside her again, I’d never want to leave. Tonight wasn’t going anything like I’d planned, but I was determined that she vividly remember the inevitable moment. In the meantime, I’d sate her and try like hell to keep my resolve.

Her chest labored with breaths, the swell of her breasts tightened with the motion. Her nipples pebbled into taut little rosebuds that begged for my mouth.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was wispy, her body naked and at my mercy.

I licked my lips, transfixed on the hint of glistening flesh between her legs. “I’m hungry.”

“I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Quite the contrary. I want you, and I have every intention of having you.”

“You’re still dressed,” she whispered.

She teased the pads of her toes up my thigh. I became acutely aware of my erection straining inside my jeans, where it would safely stay until she was fully satisfied. I didn’t trust myself.

I caught her traveling foot and replaced it on the bed. “Open up, baby.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted her knees slightly and parted, baring herself for me. I lowered to her, spreading her with my fingers. I was nearly drunk on her scent before I even tasted her. Memories flooded me. I suppressed a groan when I met the wet rush of her sex with my lips and then my tongue.
Fucking hell.

I forced myself to go slow, lavishing her with deliberate strokes. I purposefully neglected the taut bundle of nerves that could take her over the edge far too quickly. Even as my resolve hung in the balance, I committed to make this last. When I flickered my tongue over her clit, she arched off the bed.

“Oh God,” she whimpered.

She sifted her fingers through my hair and tugged it by the roots. The sting only spurred my hunger. She bucked into me, damn near forcing me over her. Forgetting myself, I tongued her mercilessly. I plunged two fingers inside of her, bathing them in her wetness. I massaged the sensitive spot that would set her off like clockwork. She tightened around me almost painfully, her thighs tensing over my shoulders.

“Cam, oh fuck. I’m going to come. Don’t stop.”

A growl escaped me, rumbling through my chest, past my lips, and against her quivering flesh. I gripped her bucking hip with my free hand, forcing her down. She seized around me, letting lose a string of cries that broke in time to the shudders that rocked her frames. Jesus Christ, what I’d do to have another part of myself inside of her now, buried in that warm heaven between her legs.

Unable to take my mouth off of her, I spread kisses over her hips, the swell of her belly, over her breasts and along her collarbone. In seconds, she was writhing beneath me again, tugging feebly at my belt.

“Take this damn thing off.”

I hid a smile and entertained the thought of letting her struggle with it or removing the obstacle myself. I could be inside her so easily. She was more than ready. It would be good, drunk or not. No time between us had ever been anything short of fulfilling. We fit. We always fit, and making her come was addictive, which is why I couldn’t stop tantalizing her even now. I could do this all night and drive us both to the brink of madness.

“Cameron, please. I can’t wait any more,” she pleaded.

“Sure you can.” I kissed the line of her neck, licking and sucking the salt from her earlier exertions. I rocked into her, cursing myself for wanting her lucid when the time came. But I couldn’t be like any self-serving brute she’d brought into her bed since me. I wanted to worship her, love her, and I wanted her to feel every minute of it.

“What are you waiting for? I need you now.” She bucked her hips against me, having given up on the belt.

I breathed in the heady scent of her body with the floral aroma of her hair—one last intoxicating breath of Maya. It had all become too much, and I was losing control. “I want to make love to you, Maya.”

“Then do it, for God’s sake. I’m dying here.”

“I want you to feel everything. I want you to remember everything.”

She pulled me back, capturing my face in her frail hands. Her eyes were glossy, hooded with desire. My jaw set, resisting the urge to kiss her more. Slowly, with every ounce of resolve I possessed, I pulled away.

MAYA. I woke after what seemed like only a few hours. However much time had passed, it wasn’t nearly enough to sleep off the damage I’d done. Soft light poured into the room through the beige curtains. Cameron wasn’t there. I should have taken his absence as a hint to leave, but I was in no condition for my walk of shame back home.

Exhausted and supremely hung over, I tossed back and forth. My legs tangled in the soft white sheets that were my only protection against the violent chills and waves of heat that tormented me. I cursed myself, hating this physical torture I’d brought onto myself. I’d overdone it again. I tried to quiet the self-loathing and prayed I could sleep it off soon. But I couldn’t relax enough to ignore the tight fist of my stomach around its contents and my body’s instinct to toss them.

Flashbacks of the previous night rushed through my mind, and my body heated every time I remembered my own stupidity. I kicked off the sheets again, realizing I was naked. Last night… Oh God. Cameron’s mouth on me. His words last night were framed by an otherwise blurry night of fun and bad decisions. I couldn’t imagine what he must think of me now. I cringed inwardly and another wave of nausea hit. Fuck.

I got up quickly. I found Cameron’s T-shirt on the floor and put it on. I rushed into the attached bathroom and knelt at the toilet. After only a little coaxing, my body finally rejected the night’s libations. I wished the regret would go with them. Breathless and shaking, I rose. I found a toothbrush in its package in one of the drawers and used it to wash away the terrible tinny taste of all the alcohol I’d poisoned myself with. I scolded my reflection in the mirror, wiping the smear of mascara from under my eyes.
What a fucking wreck.

I padded back to the bedroom and considered Cameron’s large fluffy bed for a second. Then I dove back under the covers, unwilling to leave their comfort for the outside world yet. Hopefully he’d be gone a while longer. I curled my body into a fetal position, burying my face into the pillow that smelled like him. I grabbed another and squeezed my arms around it, only a little guilty of wishing it were him. I inhaled deeply. A soft musk mingled with the cool subtle scent of his soap filled my lungs. If I hadn’t felt so wretched, I might have considered this heaven. My body instantly relaxed, and I fell into an exhausted dreamless sleep.