When He's Sinful (The Olympus Pride 3)

Although she appreciated that he always had her back, she didn’t like how often she came between him and his partners—another reason it was better for them to live separately. And it truly was better this way. Living with someone you loved when that person didn’t love you back … it really wasn’t wise.

Nowadays, she didn’t have to deal with his boyfriends sniping at her in her own home, or Camden being all weird toward any guy who picked her up for a date. Still, the distance between them was strange, because they’d never had it before. Well it seemed better to create it now than to have it abruptly forced upon them when he met his mate.

Aspen would be happy for him when he mated, but she’d also be devastated to an extent, because they’d lose so much of what they had now. They wouldn’t spend as much time together or be as close. Someone else would be his priority and have his full loyalty. They might even ask him to choose them over her—others had given him such an ultimatum. He’d choose his mate for sure, which was exactly as it should be. It would still hurt, though.

Shaking off her gloomy thoughts, she did her business in the bathroom and then pulled on some clothes. She found him in the kitchen pouring coffee into two mugs. As his eyes met hers, her stomach did a slow roll and her hormones gave a dramatic sigh of appreciation.

She couldn’t blame them. Camden was tall, dark, and broad-shouldered. So very, very male and imposing with his deep, commanding voice and his deliciously defined body that was packed with roped muscle. Seriously, he was all sin and smolder and damn she’d like to take a big bite.

His vivid ice blue eyes were like two glaciers. Filled with shadows, they held a cold, reptilian quality that could unnerve just about anyone. A hard glare from those eyes could cut you like a blade. But when they went all warm and lazy, they could pull you right in.

He held himself with power and confidence, exuding an air of complete control that flicked her best switches. It was exceedingly rare for said control to fracture, just as it was rare for him to laugh.

Whereas his tiger was all emotion, Camden was supremely self-contained. Even apathetic, to some degree. But he wasn’t completely unfeeling as some thought. It simply wasn’t easy for something or someone to “touch” him; to reach the heart of him.

Berating herself for ogling her best friend, she flashed him a smile. “Morning.”

He set down the coffee pot. “Morning, gorgeous.”

Her pulse skittered as he headed toward her, cradling a cup in each hand. Man, she loved to watch him walk. Loved it. So did her bearcat. He walked exactly like his tiger. Quiet. Smooth. Proud. Purposeful. That fluid, predatory prowl was all kinds of hot.

Reaching her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and handed her a steaming mug. “Coffee.”

“Thank you.” She took a quick sip and then frowned as she eyed his clothes. “Where did they come from?” Because his tiger certainly hadn’t been wearing them, so Camden would have been naked when he shifted back to … She sighed as realization hit her. “You’ve stashed clothes here, haven’t you?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to be prepared in case I ever need some while here.”

No, he was—in his own way—leaving his mark on her territory. It reminded her of when they’d first become friends and he’d insisted on leaving one of his hoodies in her room. Camden could be a little territorial. Not of her, but of their friendship. He’d been that way from the very beginning. In which case … “I should have known you’d do that.”

He only shrugged again, totally unapologetic. The man was a law onto himself and always had been.

Having set down her cup, she dug out both a bowl and box of cereal. “How’s your tiger doing?”

“All right.” Camden grabbed the jug of milk from the fridge and placed it on the counter for her. “He’s always calm when he’s with you.”

Because the cat trusted her to never harm his human half, she knew. The tiger never fully relaxed around anyone else, which she felt was kind of sad. Sporting many mental scars, the beast was cagey and ill-tempered and slow to invest any trust in others.

Once she’d prepared her breakfast, she settled at the table and asked, “What set him off last night?”

“A fucked-up dream.” Camden leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know why he lets the past get to him so much.”

Really, his experiences would haunt anyone. But Camden … it was as if he’d emotionally disconnected from his past. Or maybe it was that he wasn’t quite in tune with how he felt about it.