When Tucker first confessed his feelings for me, I didn’t know how I felt, but I didn’t think it was the way he wanted. We gave dating a try. We were best friends and spent all of our time together, anyway, so what did I have to lose? Our friendship, that’s what. I figured out pretty quickly that it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t fair to Tuck, either, to be with someone who, in the words of Cher Horowitz, “wasn’t majorly, totally, butt-crazy in love with him”.
Problem was, Tucker’s dad took our relationship as a sign of maturity and told him that if he kept moving in the right direction, he’d give Tuck more responsibility at Hastings Architecture, and eventually, he’d think about making him partner. Tucker has always been wild, if not a little rebellious, but design and construction is one of the few things he does take seriously. So, I told him we should keep up the charade for a while at least.
And it worked. Tucker has clients of his own now, and he couldn’t be happier. Eventually, I think we both just became too comfortable. Dependent, even. We slept together, but it wasn’t anything more than scratching an itch. I didn’t have the time or desire to date anyone, and something tells me that Tuck was hoping I’d catch some feelings of the romantic variety, so we kept it up longer than necessary.
So, while I still feel cheated on and betrayed by my not-boyfriend, I also feel strangely…relieved. And for the first time in forever, I wanted to hook up with someone. Someone who just wanted a night of fun followed by an ass slap and a good game afterward. Someone who made me feel good for just an hour. And I found the perfect candidate. It should have been a no-brainer. Except, somewhere between the cabin and the bar, the self-doubt snuck in. I got into my own head and started second-guessing my skills as an art director. My skills in the bedroom. Pretty much everything. I blame the quiet. Silence always turns into fears and overthinking for me. The fact that I chose that moment to check my texts from Tucker didn’t help matters. He said he was sorry, that he loved me, and begged me to call him. I didn’t.
By the time I walked inside, I wanted to drink away my sorrows instead of finding a sexy stranger to spend the night with. It’s too bad, because Cam looked like he knew his way around a woman’s body. He was arrogant, but weirdly charming, and truthfully, I wouldn’t mind being another notch in his bedpost.
I make my way out into the fresh air as I push open the heavy door. It slams behind me, shutting the music and chaos inside. It’s cooler than I anticipated, given the fact that it’s August. I visit River’s Edge a couple of times a year, at least, but it’s usually during winter. I haven’t been during the summer since I was a kid. My flip-flo
ps crunch against the dirt and pine needles as I head toward the water that lies mere feet from the bar. I nearly trip over a pinecone the size of my head. What are these things, bionic? They’re huge. I don’t get more than three steps before the door swings open behind me.
“You said I had to let you leave, but, you didn’t say anything about not following you.”
I spin around and pin him with an impassive stare as I walk backwards.
“I can be tricky, too,” he says, wiggling his brows. I shake my head and turn back to the water. I sit down, the rough sand cold against my thighs. I slip my flip-flops off and bury my toes in the wet sand. I’m surprised when Camden lowers himself to sit next to me. He’s fully clothed in a white V-neck and black jeans, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He props his elbows on his knees and stares out at the lake, unspeaking. I use the opportunity to take him in. His dirty blond hair underneath his backward hat, the tattoos on his arms and the ones that cover his throat. The light stubble on his jaw. He looks vaguely familiar, but I know I don’t know him. I’d never forget meeting someone like him.
“Are you just going to stare at me all night? It’s kind of creepy,” Camden says, still looking out at the water, interrupting my perusal.
“You’re the one who followed me and sat down next to me without an invitation. If anyone’s winning the creepy contest, it’s you.” The corner of his lip lifts in an almost-smile.
“Touché.”
“Why did you, anyway?”
“What, follow you?”
I nod.
“I’m a sore loser, I guess.” He shrugs, and I burst out laughing. Well, at least he’s honest.
“She laughs,” he says, flashing his perfect teeth in a Cheshire grin. “Does that earn me a kiss?”
“You’re not going to quit, are you?”
“Quitting isn’t in my vocabulary.”
“Somehow, I don’t think a guy like you is only interested in a kiss,” I deadpan.
“Would you rather fuck instead?” he asks with a straight face, and I realize that he is dead serious. My mouth clamps shut, and I feel my face heat. He has zero filter. I doubt there’s a single thought he’s had that hasn’t been spoken aloud.
Camden chuckles at my reaction and leans close to my ear.
“Does that word make you nervous?” he rasps, his lips brushing the shell of my ear over my hair. “Because I want to fuck you, Mollie Mabey.”
My core clenches at his dirty, blunt words, and he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Our eyes lock, and it’s not humor in his eyes that I see, but heat. My arms tingle with goose bumps and I shiver, but it’s not from the cold.
I shouldn’t do this. I don’t even know this guy. Even though my initial plan was to have a one-night stand, I figured I’d at least spend more than ten minutes with the guy. But I want this. God, do I want it. And I’m going to take it. I’m going to take everything this gorgeous, egotistical stranger can give me in spades.
I catch Camden off guard when I swing a leg over his and straddle his lap. His hands immediately find my ass, and I feel his hardness between my thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and when I lean in, that’s all the permission he needs.
One of his tattooed hands fists my hair, and the other presses against the dip in my spine. My hands cup both sides of his scruffy face as our mouths crash together. No longer playful, but hungry. Frantic. Desperate. His tongue tastes like oranges, and I moan when it slides against mine. The hand on my back slides under my dress and up my back, coming to rest between my shoulder blades.
Maybe it’s the fact that it feels wrong to be like this with a man I don’t know that’s turning me on, or maybe it’s just him, but I’ve never felt so much from a kiss before. I’m completely consumed, and I feel like I’m burning from the inside out. The hand on my upper back snakes around my side and comes to rest flat on my ribs, and his thumb grazes the underside of my breast. Everything inside of me ignites at his touch, and I pull back from his kiss on a gasp.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice thick and gravelly.