But I was beyond the point of stopping. In my mind, the image of Cam appeared. His blue eyes on fire with heat and his mouth against mine, coaxing me open, heavenly patient and yet determined. My fingers fumbled, because I really had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed to be working. I stroked myself and it felt good, but all it seemed to do was flame the fire, making it burn hotter. I felt swollen and I was sure I was going to scream my head off if the aching grew anymore.
I caught my lower lip between my teeth. My finger flicked back and forth before I drew in a deep breath and pushed in. A gasp escaped me as tension coiled. Okay. That was good. I pushed a little deeper and the pressure of my palm against the apex sent another jolt through me. My hips jerked and the burning in my core spread. Instinct seemed to have taken over. My hips rocked in a tiny circle and the tension built deeper and deeper. The noise that came out of my throat would’ve embarrassed me if anyone had ever heard it, but right now, in the darkness of my room, it made me hotter.
My hips ground against my hand and it felt like a cord being pulled into a tight knot deep inside me. I could feel it and I knew that it was coming, seconds away. In an instant, I pictured Cam doing this— hishand, hisfingers and that was it. A moan erupted from deep inside my body as the cord unraveled, whipping through my body and scattering all my thoughts.
As my heart rate returned to normal and the trembles subsided, I collapsed back against the pillows, arms and legs shaking. Holy crap, so that was what that felt like? I rolled onto my side, my lips spreading into a weak grin. The pillow muffled my throaty laugh.
Somehow though, even as the pleasant, languid peace invaded my body, carrying me off to sleep, I knew that whatever I just felt, was lacking. That with a guy I wanted to be with— with Cam—all of that would’ve been amplified and I wanted that.
I wanted to feel that with Cam.
#
Brit and Jacob were just as surprised as I was that I’d agreed to go home with Cam over Thanksgiving break. I’d been afraid they’d lecture me on how absolutely insane this was, but they hadn’t. Both had acted like it was no big deal. Maybe the crazy was contagious? Besides, they’d been more interested in the other details of the date.
“So is he a good kisser?” Jacob asked.
I glanced around the class, praying that no one was paying attention. The professor hadn’t arrived yet and most looked half asleep.
Brit giggled. “Tell him what you told me yesterday.”
My cheeks warmed as I thought about what I’d told her on the phone when she’d asked me the same question.
“So he did kiss you?” Jacob’s dark eyes widened, but thankfully he kept his voice low.
Clenching my notebook to my chest, I ignored the way Brit bounced in her seat. “Yes.”
“Tell him,” she whispered.
Jacob nodded. “Tell me.”
I closed my eyes. “He’s a good kisser—a great kisser.”
“That is not what you said.”
A frown pulled at Jacob’s lips. “Tell me or I’m going to start shouting you kissed—”
“Okay,” I hissed, my entire body heating. The first kiss had been tender and soft. Even the second one had been a controlled exploration, but when I had laid back and he’d hovered over me? The ache was back just thinking about it, and well, that was awkward being that I was in history class. “He kissed me like he wanted to… eat me up.”
Brit giggled around her Twizzler.
Jacob’s mouth worked for several seconds and then, “I bet he did.” His brows were raised as he jerked his chin down. “Like he really wanted to eat—”
“I get what you’re saying. Thanks. Back to the important stuff,” I said, placing my notebook on my desk. “You don’t think going home with him is insane?”
Brit shook her head. “People go home with other people all the time. You know Rachel Adkins, right? She’s in your art class. She’s going home with Jared instead of flying back out to California.”
“Aren’t those two dating?” Jacob asked.
My shoulders slumped.
“Not anymore,” Brit said, pulling a Twizzler from her pack. She pointed the ropey red candy at me. “They broke up, but she still goes home with him.”
Still didn’t make me feel that much better about this. Throughout class, I alternated between paying attention to the lesson on the Middle Ages and wondering if I was really going to go through this next week while I nibbled on the Twizzler I’d swiped from Brit’s bag.
The truth was that going home with Cam wasn’t really even the issue. Yeah, it was about twenty-one flavors of crazy, but a huge part of me was even looking forward to it. I wanted to know more about Cam—to see his family and how he interacted with them. I wanted to know why he quit playing soccer and what he did every Friday night.
And I wanted… I wanted Cam.
In the way I hadn’t wanted a guy before, hadn’t even thought I’d truly be capable of wanting one. What I felt when he had kissed me was what I was supposed to feel. A tiny bit of panic had been there, was still there, but the curiosity overwhelmed that fear. So did the baffling warmth I felt whenever Cam was near.
There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to kiss Cam again. I wanted to experience what I had after he’d left with him. Kissing him wasn’t the problem. Going home wasn’t the problem.
I just didn’t know how much of this I was capable of. How far this—whatever it was—would actually go before old fears overshadowed the warmth.
#
Over the next week, I talked myself into and out of going with Cam about a million times. Right up to the moment I packed a weekender bag, I wavered back and forth. It wasn’t until I was sitting beside him in his truck Wednesday morning when I realized I was really doing this.
“Are you sure your parents are okay with this?”
Cam nodded. I’d only asked the question around a hundred times.
I started nibbling on my thumb. “And you did actually call them and ask, right?”
He slid me a sideway look. “No.”
My jaw hit me lap. “Cam!”
Tipping his head back, he laughed deeply. “I’m kidding. Chill out, Avery. I told them the day after you said you’d go. They know you’re coming and they’re excited to meet you.”
Glaring at him, I went back to chewing on my nail. “That wasn’t funny.”
He laughed again. “Yes, it was.”
“Jerk.”
“Nerd.”
I stared out the passenger window. “Bitch-ass.”
“Oh.” Cam whistled. “Them be fighting words. Keep it up and I’ll turn this truck around.”
I grinned as we hit I70. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“You’d be distraught and in tears.” There was a pause. He reached over, pulling my hand away from my mouth. “Stop doing that.”
“Sorry.” I glanced at him. “It’s a bad habit.”
“It is.” He threaded his fingers through mine, and my heart skipped a beat. Our joined hands rested on my thigh, and I wasn’t sure what to think about that. “My sister won’t be home until early tomorrow morning. She’s doing a show in Pittsburg tonight.”
“What kind of show?” My gaze flicked from our hands to the window and back again.
“I think it’s a ballet recital.”
My attention was focused partly on the weight of his hand in mine. “Is ballet her favorite?”
“I think it’s a mix between that and contemporary.”
Contemporary used a lot of ballet and it would make sense that she’d like a mixture of those. Cam eventually let go of my hand, which was a good thing because I was sure my palm was starting to sweat and that was just gross. The two hour drive went by way too fast. It seemed like minutes had passed by the time he got off the interstate and entered a small, hilly town that seemed to have been built into the side of the mountain.
And boy were we smack dab in the middle of mountaineer country. From every store front hung a WVU flag, as did the porches of the small homes. We continued through the town and out onto country roads that looked like they’d just been paved recently.