Fallen

She glanced at his lips again and he couldn’t help it, he leaned forward and kissed her. The kiss was soft, gentle. It was the slow brushing of velvety, sun-warmed lips. It was his fingers on the nape of her neck, sliding upward to grip her scalp as she moaned, his body giving an answering jolt of pure lust. It was her tongue sliding into his mouth and his meeting hers. It felt like the most natural thing in all the world, and the most extraordinary.

It was delicious mindlessness as she fell back onto the dry grass and he came over the top of her, tilting his head so he could explore her mouth more deeply. He molded his groin to hers, pulling back and then pressing forward, a groan of pleasure rumbling from his chest. His body felt incredibly alive in a way it never had before. The sunshine warmed his back, the softness of her curves cradled the long, hard planes of his own. For one sweet moment, there was nothing but beauty and rightness before all the old shame began flooding in. Camden pulled away, his eyes widening momentarily as he imagined a look of fear on her features, breath expelling in relief when he saw only calm, only need, and then the blink of confusion. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

He nodded, giving her a small smile. His hang-ups weren’t her fault and he wouldn’t let them sully what that kiss had been: sweet perfection. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to take it further. So much further. He wanted to lose himself in her. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. If only he could. God, if only. So he pulled away, sitting up. She sat up as well, taking a moment to smooth her hair and lower her skirt from where it’d ridden up. He spotted a small, oval green-gray stone at the edge of the water and picked it up, running his thumb over its perfect smoothness.

He thought about Georgia and a modicum of guilt rose inside of him. Damn it. This, this had felt so good for a time, but with the kiss, reality had steamrolled back in, and there was nothing he could do about it. He’d made his choices, he’d sealed his fate. He’d fed his wolf. “Yeah.” He mustered another smile, squinting over at her. “I was just thinking we should probably get going.”

Scarlett ran her hand over her hair again. She looked embarrassed. Hurt and regret pooled in his chest. “Right. Yes.” She began to stand and he jumped up first, offering her his hand. She wobbled slightly, laughed, as he pulled her up. “I guess I do have a project I should be managing back at the old homestead.”

The homestead. Lilith House. Keep focused, Cam.

He dropped the stone in his pocket and they began to walk through the woods, shafts of sunlight beaming through the breaks in the trees. Their fingers brushed, and he wanted to take her hand but he didn’t. Instead he grasped the stone in his pocket, running a finger over its time-worn edges. It had been pummeled and tumbled, its coarseness knocked away until it washed up on the sunny shore, smooth . . . soft. The time at the stream with Scarlett had felt that way too . . . gentle, peaceful, in an existence that had only rarely experienced such things. It would be a reminder of what that’d felt like, even if it could only ever be temporary. Hell, maybe it’d serve as a wish that perhaps he could be made softer from the hardships he’d endured as well. Interesting thought, foreign even. Each instance he spent time with Scarlett shifted something different inside of him. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

After another few minutes, she turned to him. “By the way, you didn’t tell me why you came by in the first place.”

“Huh?”

“You stopped by Lilith House and one of the men told you where to find me. But why’d you stop by?”

“Oh, uh, I was just checking in. Making sure everything was okay after the other night.”

She glanced at him sideways and he sensed some disappointment in her expression. “I appreciate it, I do. But you really don’t have to feel responsible for my safety. I’ll call you if I require your professional services.”

He held back a smile. He’d ruffled her feathers by suggesting his visit was for purely professional reasons. He liked that it bothered her. It meant she was hoping his visit was personal. And the truth? It had been. He’d wanted to see her, plain and simple. The professional check-in was going to be his excuse. “Actually, the check-in was really more for the bird.”

She stopped, putting her hands on her hips. He stopped too, turning to look at her. “The bird? There was some kid crawling around through the walls of my house, and you came back to check on the bird?” His lip quirked. She looked so damned indignant and so damned beautiful.