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“Ten? Should I count them? The number is small enough that I’ll be able to keep track.” Despite his humor, he cradles my cheek.
The warmth seeping into my skin soothes me and causes my eyes to dry. “I can’t believe you’re joking at a time like this.” With a last sniff I gently push him to sit again.
As I probe his left side, a surge of reassurance fills me. His skin isn’t broken and his winces aren’t exaggerated.
“Satisfied? I told you I was fine. I’ve had worse injuries in my life. This was minor.”
“A house caving on you isn’t minor,” I argue. “But, I’ll leave off from lecturing you.”
“Well, since you aren’t lecturing, could you spare your wounded hero a kiss to thank him for saving your work?” He holds both of my hands as he pulls me between his spread knees.
“Wounded hero? More like foolish hero. Insurance will replace my hardware. You, on the other hand, have no replacement.” The last bit, I utter in a whisper-soft confession.
“Yeah?” Cameron smiles, melting away the last remnants of fear coursing through me. “I like the sound of that, but I’ll be honest. I’d do it again because your art is irreplaceable. It’s important to you which means it’s important to me.” His sincere expression causes my heart to thump and my breath to stall in my lungs.
I clear my throat, unable to handle what this all means right now. “We should, um, get some rest. We’ll share my bed since my grandmothers have yet to return my furniture. It won’t be the first time after all. Oh, and the storm… it doesn’t seem to want to slow down anytime soon so it’s not like there will be a whole lot to do. I’ll get your suitcase so you can change your pajamas,” I babble like an idiot.
“I…uh don’t have pajamas.” His response elicits my reaction which is equivalent of a DJ scratching an album.
After a few seconds I say, “But you’re wearing…” I glance at Cameron’s discarded shirt and the drenched khaki shorts he has on. “Street clothes?”
“I couldn’t run out of the place naked, could I?”
Torture. That’s the only way to define the hours following Cameron’s confession. The darkness provides no comfort when only a pair of boxers separate me from him. I can’t fall asleep with this knowledge. What if I wake up humping him again? I’d done that when he was fully clothed.
I can’t even vent my frustration by knocking my head against the pillow because he pulled me into his unhurt side with a grip I can’t break without waking him. Not that I want to move. Lying beside Cameron with my head resting against his shoulder is an experience I can never get enough of. Not since our night at the hotel.
Yes, the hotel! Hadn’t he worn pajamas then? Oh yeah, he wore boxers, but that night was different. I didn’t think anything of the fact that he only wore boxers because I was focused on making out with him not on his clothes. Feeling his skin beneath mine was a necessary component to the whole experience. I should have known better from his first morning’s performance. He hadn’t undressed specifically to give me that show, he was already naked.
I practice my breathing to calm my rampaging libido. As my thoughts calm, Cameron’s strong, steady heart beat thuds against my hand, wrapping me in comfort without his knowledge. My eyelids become heavy and my mind empties of all but one thought; this must be what heaven feels like.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Kenya
When I wake up it’s midmorning and the space beside me is warm to the touch. The faint sounds of the shower tell me where Cameron is. Free to indulge, I grab his pillow, bury my face in its cottony softness and inhale his scent. A slight medicinal quality hums beneath his natural musk, but I can’t get enough of his smell. This is perfectly normal behavior. At least, it is for giddy heroines in romance flicks. As much as I would like to depend on my judgment, I can’t. With zero relationship experience I have to rely on other types of media to educate me on the norms.
I stiffen as I replay the thought. Now would be the perfect time for Keating to jump in and set me straight about all things relationship related, but nothing. I glance around the room. She’s not here. I sit up, still in prey response mode. To test the waters, I lob a easy one that I know she won’t be able to resist.
See that Keating? A second night without assaulting Cameron means you were full of it all those times you teased me.
I wait for her set down. And I wait. Her silence shouldn’t bother me, but it’s beginning to. I’ve gotten used to her snarky commentary about my life and now that she hasn’t spoken to me after two easy openings or shown up to give me her judgmental glares, I’m at a loss.
“Morning,” Cameron says with a towel around his trim waist and another over his head. He walks toward me with a sexy gait.
“There should be regulations against the way you walk,” I grumble.
Confusion blankets his face.
“Sorry, I’m not prepared for how appealing you are first thing in the morning.” My apology earns a smile which does nothing to lessen the state I’m in.
Then he removes the towel and I get an unobstructed view of the damage to his body.
“Oh my God, Cameron, you look worse than you did last night.” I lurch from the bed to get a closer look, but pause with my hands inches away from his face and side.
Cameron grins and delivers a quick no-nonsense kiss to my lips. “I bruise easy. It’s an unfortunate trait for being a pale, freckled-skin red head. I promise you that it looks worse than it is. By the way, the power is still out so you’ll have to make do with a cold shower.”
“Electricity isn’t the only reason I need it to be cold,” I mumble as I pass him.
