The Real

I had that inexplicable connection with someone that had nothing to do with work, friendship, or family. The connection that makes your heart pound and keeps your throat dry in anticipation. I finally had the man you dressed up for.

I applied a coat of lipstick then stood back and admired my dress. I’d picked a floor-length, shimmering pale pink gown—his favorite on me—and curled my crimson hair in ribbons before I pinned them up.

True to his word, my doorbell rang four minutes later. On the other side, Cameron stood in a tuxedo—far too ostentatious for a school dance—his dark hair swept back, holding a delicate rose corsage for my wrist.

His eyes drifted from my heel-clad feet to the top of my twisted hair.

“Abbie . . .” He didn’t have to say any more than that. I felt touched inside and out.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Give me your hand,” he said, opening the clear box and sliding the small spray of roses onto my wrist.

“Do they even do corsages anymore?”

“We do,” he answered, guiding me into my coat.

I couldn’t help but think my invitation to the dance was due to the conversation we had on our weekend getaway.

When I saw the limousine parked at my curb, I glanced his way.

“You went to too much trouble,” I gently scolded as the driver opened the door for us.

After we were safely inside, he gave me a wicked grin, along with his ‘come-hither’ finger. His lap had become my favorite chair, and he seemed to think it appropriate for any occasion. I sat cradled in his arms, my glittering dress cascading down his long legs.

Though I’d told him he’d gone to too much trouble, I’d spent the day getting pampered at the spa a few streets over. I’d had every treatment available, and Bree had spent a few hours getting a massage while we caught up about all things wedding and I filled her in on the last few weeks with Cameron.

The minute we pulled away from the curb, Cameron’s eyes dipped to my exposed cleavage while he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my neck.

“And how was your day?” I asked with a light laugh as his fingers roamed beneath my coat. He remained wordless as he kissed every inch of skin the fabric didn’t cover. Lips, tongue, fingers, he massaged my calf as he nibbled at the spot behind my ear.

“I missed you too,” I murmured as he continued his sweet assault, turning me into a puddle on his lap.

“Hey, Coach,” I said in an attempt to get his attention. In the rearview, I could see the crinkle form in the corner of the driver’s eyes as I softly tugged on Cameron’s jacket.

“That good, huh?”

My breaths came out heavier as his lips roamed.

Dangerous arousal spiked between us as his kiss drifted along with his hand to slide up my thigh while simultaneously pushing the button for the partition between us and the driver.

“You do this to me, Abbie,” he whispered tracing my jaw with his lips. “You look so beautiful,” he murmured, as he lifted his hips showcasing his erection. “You get me so fucking high.”

He cupped my face and kissed me so deeply I thought I would drown in it. Pulling away he pressed his forehead to mine.

“What do you want, Abbie Gorman? Ask me for anything.”

“You,” I said easily. “I want you. I’m not jaded anymore, Cameron.”

“I feel the same,” he whispered softly. “You’ve changed everything for me.”

The tender lift of his voice had me searching his eyes which conveyed so much. I felt the shift on his part, I felt the words he wasn’t saying. The car came to a stop and unfortunately for us, so had the moment. Cameron sighed as I made my way off his lap and searched my clutch to fix my lipstick.

My hand in Cameron’s, we walked down the halls of the high school and I noticed several banners that read All in All Sports.

“You sponsored the dance?”

He squeezed my hand, a pride-filled smile whispering on his lips.