The Real

I wanted to ask how long he’d been single, to ask what he’d been through that put that hint of sadness in his eyes. But asking meant telling.

“We won’t take it for granted,” I assured.

“No, we won’t,” he agreed.

It was surreal talking to him, seeing him in his element. I was sure he was thinking the same thing.

“I’ll let you get to the court.”

“I’d much rather be hanging out with you,” he assured. “I’ll call you tonight?”

I nodded. “Please.”

Snow crested on the wind like clumps of airy cotton as I made my way toward the café. My smile widened as the ground crunched beneath me. Chicago weather could be brutal. Case and point, it wasn’t even a month into fall and Old Man Winter had already shown up to the party. But on rare days when the cold didn’t have too harsh of a bite and the snow came down on the city like a soft blanket . . . well, I loved those days.

Excitement thrummed through my every limb at the thought of what was to come. Warmth spread as I got closer to the café, to Cameron. I hadn’t seen him in over a week due to our conflicting schedules.

Over the weekend, I’d traveled for an interview for a job based in Milwaukee that would start after my contract at Preston Corp ended. The commission was the only reason I hadn’t passed on the job, but I’d made it a point to find something with limited travel. Because, for the first time in what felt like forever, I had someone else to share my time with, and I didn’t want to miss a minute.

It was the strangest feeling to become reliant on him as a part of my life. My thoughts of the future were swinging a little in his direction, but it was healthy in the way that made my new relationship a priority. Intimacy was our last real hurdle. We’d laid the foundation, and it was a beautiful thing to be a part of as it unfolded. It was scary and freeing at the same time. I trusted him to a point. I just had to give him the rest. And I’d decided before I walked out the door and left my Mac at home I would take a step forward with him. He’d been patient for just a date, a kiss.

And if I was lucky and he was receptive, he was about to reap the reward for it.

When I saw Cameron was waiting outside the café for me, I couldn’t stop my smile. Dressed in dark blue jeans and a wool blend, collared trench, he looked GQ and irresistible as he stood with an air of confidence, blowing in his hands to warm them up. I paused my steps to watch him.

“All right, Abigail,” I scorned myself in a whisper just as Cameron caught sight of me crossing the street. “Just because he looks like a sidewalk prince standing in the snowdrift staring at you with honest eyes and a beautiful smile doesn’t mean he’s the one.” He rubbed his hands together and gave me his signature wink. “Okay, so he idolizes his mother, respects your opinion, and has a little bit of a dirty mouth. All good things, but that doesn’t mean you have to walk over and hand him your heart.”

His smile deepened as I sped up.

I’m so fucked.

I beamed at him as I closed the space between us, my eyes searching his. It was only when he whisked me away from the door, placed his hands on the side of my face, and leaned in that I realized he’d left his computer at home too.

And then his lips were on mine; his breath-stealing groan danced on my tongue as I gasped into his mouth. In order to reach him, I had to stand on the tips of my toes to compensate and wrap my arms around his neck. He accommodated by gripping my hips and lifting me easily so we connected.

And then he kissed me.

His kiss gave both life and death. The end of everything as I knew it and the beginning of a need, a craving for only him.

He opened my mouth with the swipe of his tongue, and I moaned in invitation as he dove deep, tasting me. Toes curling, our tongues dueled and slid against each other’s, spurring us into a frenzy. He refused to let up as he gave and took, clutching me to him, feeding until we were both gasping for breath.

“Cameron,” I sputtered as he broke away briefly and then went straight back for more. In the middle of Wicker Park, in front of my favorite café, I got the best kiss of my life. His tongue moved so languidly with mine that I was ravenous by the time he pulled away.

“I’m so strung out on you right now, woman,” he groaned as he traced my lips with his finger. “You are so goddamn beautiful. It hurts to look at you.” He bit his lip. “Did you dress up for me?”

“Of course.”

He kept us nose to nose as he spoke low, our energy electric, and I was wired. I could feel the minute the decision was made. I was going to give Cameron my heart. I just hoped he’d ask for it.

“That makes me feel so good. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that, Abbie. Had this. It’s been . . . a long time.”

“Preach it, brother, hallelujah,” I said, and we both laughed.

“Cameron, I think about you all the time.”

“Day and night,” he rasped out in between kisses across my jaw. “I was going blind with the need to touch you. I want this more than anything.” He pulled away and peered down at me. “What do you want?”

“You have to kiss me again to find out.”