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“It’s so sweet how trusting you are. With him being a pro football player and all. A man that good-looking’s bound to get into a little trouble every now and again.” She arches a carefully penciled brow high, feigning concern for me.
“Cam? No way, Jamie. He and Sloane are serious,” Gracelyn hops in, defending me.
“I’m just saying. A red-blooded guy like that, so masculine, strong, and virile. A man like that has needs, you know?” She takes a sip of her drink, leaving a dark red lipstick stain on the rim. “If it were me, I’d be worried.”
Wine swirls in my stomach and nausea washes overme. I wipe my clammy palms over the thighs of my jeans and try not to panic.
What’s she talking about?
Jamie’s kohl-rimmed eyes grow wide, her thick fringe of lashes fluttering at me. “Oh. Bless your heart. You don’t know, do you? You haven’t seen the video.”
A sick, sinking feeling rolls over me and sweat beads at my hairline on the back of my neck.
“What are you talking about, Jamie?” Grace huffs out, exasperated.
Jamie slides her cell out of her leopard-print clutch, tapping the screen to life. Three quick clicks later, she’s offering the phone to me. I take it with shaky hands, acid rising in my throat.
The date in the corner of the video flashes—three days ago.
Cam was in Fort Lauderdale three days ago.
The quality of the video’s grainy and amateur, the angle not the best. Two women wearing lacy lingerie and heels walk across a dimly lit room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a twinkling city skyline. A bright light shines in the corner, throwing shadows across the floor. Low, deep voices rumble off-camera, directing the women to take off their clothes. Nervous giggles, then both women remove their bras and panties until they’re wearing only sky-high heels. Appreciative murmurs and wolf whistles screech through the speaker of the phone and a naked man steps toward the women.
Not Cam.
A tiny shot of cool relief rushes through me. Cam’s not with these women, fondling their breasts as they laugh and smile at the camera. Still, my chest tightens as I watchthe scene. I feel Jamie’s stare over my shoulder and I don’t dare turn around.
I want to click out of this, preserve my innocent perceptions. But I can’t stop watching, drawn to the images on my screen.
The women flip their long hair, rubbing against the naked man as he kisses full breasts, then motions at someone to join him. A second man comes into view, pulling his shirt over his head. He’s wearing boxer briefs, his large erection bulging in the tight material. He lifts one of the women up and she straddles him, wrapping her legs around his muscular back. There’s more laughter and talking, then naked guy number one chugs straight from an open champagne bottle. The blonde opens her lips wide and he spits the bubbly into her mouth, closing her jaw and tipping her head back, forcing her to swallow. She makes a big show of it, touching her breasts and swiveling her hips. The guy smacks her round ass and she squeals.
“For fuck’s sake, Jamie. Cam’s not on this video,” Gracelyn snaps, scowling at Jamie.
“Keep watching.” Jamie motions at the cell.
Guy number two backs out of view, the brunette woman kissing him as they presumably move to the bed.
Then a familiar voice sounds from off-camera, directing the blonde to get on her hands and knees.
My stomach drops, my heart sinking even as my core clenches like a freaking Pavlovian dog. Trained to respond to that deep, commanding voice. The same voice that’s brought me to orgasm hundreds of times.
It’s Cam’s voice, although he’s still not on camera. The blonde’s eyes go wide, but she drops to her knees and puts her palms on the floor before licking her plump lips.
“Crawl to him.” Naked guy number one gestures overhis shoulder, and I assume he’s pointing to Cam. The blonde does as she’s told, her narrow hips swaying back and forth, ass high in the air as she inches along the wood floor. The camera jostles as it’s repositioned to face an oversized bed. The brunette and guy number two are having sex in the background and there’s Cam, standing in front of the bed. The woman’s crawling toward him and naked guy one saunters over, slapping the blonde’s bare ass.
I stare at the screen, a bitter taste in my mouth.
No, this can’t be real.
Cam wouldn’t cheat on me.
And surely he wouldn’t be so stupid, so naïve, tofilmsomething like this. To create video fucking evidence of his betrayal.
I want to erase the video, scrub the images from Jamie’s phone, the web. But most of all, from my memory.
But I can’t.
The blonde reaches up and pulls at Cam’s pants and that’s all I can handle.
