Close to You (Fusion 2)

“Really.” He takes his coat off and hangs it on the back of a chair. “That’s . . . unusual.”

“I know. But it’s okay.” I turn to him. “Brian is a really great guy, and I want him to be with someone equally great.”

“So you’ve been trying to set him up.”

I nod. “I felt guilty.”

Landon takes my hand and leads me to the couch, sits, and snuggles me against him. “Why guilty?”

“Because I left him,” I reply softly. “The divorce was all me. He didn’t put up much of a fight, but he probably wouldn’t have asked for it. I left him alone, and that made me feel bad.”

“You were alone too,” he reminds me, and kisses my forehead.

“But that was my decision.” I drag my nails up and down his thigh. “But, I guess I didn’t have to set him up after all. The fact that he’s doing any kind of cooking or baking with her says a lot. He claims to be allergic to the oven.”

“I hope it works out for them,” he says. “Wanna watch movies and veg for the rest of the day?”

“Hell yes.”

THIS HAS BEEN, hands down, one of the best days I’ve had in a very long time. Exercise in the morning, and an afternoon on the couch, snuggled up, watching movies and eating junk food is exactly how I needed to spend my day off. I feel rejuvenated and happy.

We’re in the middle of an action movie that Landon picked. We took turns choosing the movies today, which seemed fair to me. Right now action movie stars from the eighties and nineties are all banded together to fight . . . something. I’m not sure what. But Landon is laughing and pointing, and generally having a good time, so I’m having a good time too.

I traded my jeans for cropped yoga pants long ago. Landon ran home to get some lounge clothes as well, so we’re as casual as can be, with a blanket over our laps, and Scoot is curled in a tiny ball beside Landon, snoring happily.

This just feels good. I’d forgotten how much I love to snuggle. To feel a solid, warm body next to me. I slip my hand under the blanket and drag my fingertips up and down Landon’s thigh, like I did earlier, but this time it’s on bare skin thanks to his running shorts. I like to touch him. His skin is smooth, but his muscles are just . . . yum.

I glance up at him, and realize that he’s staring down at me, his eyes hot, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back and Landon and his harder-than-should-be-legal body are covering me, his mouth is on mine, and his hand has traveled up my shirt.

“Jesus, you’re sweet,” he whispers against my lips. “Arch up.”

I comply and he unfastens my bra, giving him easier access to my breasts. He doesn’t take my shirt off, but his hands are doing amazing things to my nipples and his mouth is teasing mine, nipping, licking, then devouring.

I feel like I’m sliding straight into a high that I’ve never had before. My head starts to buzz, along with every nerve ending in my entire body. He eases between my legs and presses his pelvis to mine, grinding against my core, and moans as I push my hands in his hair and hold on tight.

“I want you,” he whispers as his hand glides down my belly to the waistband of my pants, but he stills and pulls his head back, staring down at me, panting.

“Why are you stopping?” Please, God, don’t you dare stop.

“Cami, I—”

He just doesn’t want me like this.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, and wiggle out from under him, not able to look him in the face. “I get it.”

“No. You don’t.” He grips my arm, but I don’t want to look him in the eyes and see the apology there. “Cami, look at me.”

“Landon, it’s okay.” Why do I keep saying it’s okay? Because I’m so embarrassed I don’t know what to say. Except, he started it.

“Cami, I want you.” My gaze whips up to his. “I want you so bad I’m aching with it. But I don’t want to rush things. We don’t have to hurry.”

“I don’t feel like we’re rushing,” I reply. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now. We spend a lot of time together. Every time you walk in a room, I want to rip your clothes off. Trust me, I’m more than ready.”

He takes a deep breath, stands, and just when I think he’s going to leave, he scoops me up and carries me—carries me—up the stairs and into my bedroom.

“You are so beautiful,” he says softly, his face close to mine as he sets me on my feet near the bed, then makes quick work of our clothes. “And I want to take my time exploring every gorgeous inch of you. We’ve waited this long, there’s no need to go fast.”

“That sounds nice,” I reply as my eyes rake over his long, lean body. The feel of his muscles over his clothes is nothing at all compared to what they look like naked. “I didn’t think people really looked like that.”

“Like what?” he asks with a grin.

I just point at him. “Like they’ve been airbrushed.”

“You’re good for my ego, baby.” His eyes narrow. “You really don’t wear panties.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

I lift one shoulder. “Panty lines. I hate them. And thongs are just damn uncomfortable.”

He laughs. “That’s my Cami, always logical.”

I bite my lip and cup his perfectly sized, not-too-big, not-too-small dick in my palm. “I’d say that by the look and feel of this, the compliment is returned,” I reply, and look up into his blue eyes. “You’re rather hard, Landon.”