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11
Willow
Itargeted the wrong guy. I’d sat right outside of Dr. Eaton’s sliding glass door, letting time sift through my fingers. With the gun burning in my palms, I’d psyched myself into believing I’m a callous woman.
Just as I had the nerve, Dr. Eaton took a call from his cheating wife. Desperation colored his tone while heartless indifference darkened hers. They argued about custody of their toddlers. Sounded like the greedy wench gargled with vodka. It was at that precise second when she leveraged the kids for an obscene amount of alimony and child support that it hit me. This man loves his children, and his only fault is putting work above everything to appease his insatiable wife.
It’s a feeling, but I trust it. This man isn’t my enemy.
Okay, admit you’re defeated, Lolo. Squaring my shoulders, I’m resolute to return to Orange Blossom for more intel and to save Momma.I rise from my crouched position and drop the .22 into the bottom of my backpack. On all fours, I scurry across the side deck toward the silver railing at the stern of the boat. Yards away from the rail Dr. Eaton calls my name.
His tone is a marriage of bewilderment and confusion. “Miss . . . Miss Greene?”
Oh shit.
“Willow, is that you?”Dr. Eaton calls after me
Gathering purchase on my tippy toes, I lift off, sprint across the deck. While jumping over the railing, I anticipate my landing. Instead of scuffing my knees, I’m pulled under by a tornado. Menacingly strong arms, tagged in dark ink over every square inch of them, snake around my waist.
“Hello, Lolo.” Camdyn’s mouth plasters against mine. A kaleidoscope of butterflies soars in my stomach. My rampaging heart submits to the control of his dominating tongue.
He nibbles my bottom lip, the growls making every sinew in my body tremble. “Do what I tell you to.”
Again, my name is called. Lacking the strength to pull away, I relax into my enemy’s embrace. I’m enveloped in his scent. The promise of more reflects in his ocean eyes, and my mouth draws agape. Oh shit, just kiss me . . . oh no. This is bad.
As if he has access to my heart, mind, and soul, Camdyn winks.
I hear my name again. From the corner of my eye, Dr. Eaton leans over the railing in casual jeans and a crumpled shirt. “What are you—”
“You two know each other?” Camdyn cocks a brow. His arm loops my waist. I subtly war against his unsolicited affection. With ease, he holds me in one arm, a hand anchored over my entire ass cheek.
Hostile, yet whispered, I say, “Stop it, Cam.”
“Where’s the confidence, Lolo? All this ass loves my attention.”
“Humph. You’re not afraid of the L-word?”
Camdyn’s eyes roll away from me. A completely different motherfucker addresses the doctor. One wearing an adorable mask of confusion. “Excuse the intrusion. I was telling my girl to do the hashtag hot-tub challenge. But you’re not wet, are you?” Much quieter, he growls in my ear, “You’re wet as feck. Your pussy percolated when we kissed.”
I writhe against him, but my arms are clasped behind me. “Um, Doctor Eaton, I had no idea you owned . . . this boat.”
While holding up a staying hand, Dr. Eaton gives a nervous chuckle. “I was young once.”
Camdyn starts walking in the opposite direction of the pier entrance.
I snap, “Where are you taking me?”
“Change your fecking tone, Willow. I saved you.”
“Thank you, goodb . . .” I expected Camdyn to interject, but air clogs my throat. I recall his father’s heartfelt words of wisdom. “Where are you taking me, Cam?”
A halo descends upon his head. “Why are you stalking the good doctor?”
Wedged In Camdyn’s obsessive embrace, my arms are confined at my sides. I use my abdomen muscles to push my chest away from him.
“I said why?” Camdyn’s arm squeezes me like an anaconda. He stops at the bottom of the gangway to a yacht and shoots a smile over his shoulder. He then presses his lips against my ear. “We still have an audience.”
“Screw—”
