Page 61 of Wrecked
Cam: Hey. I actually have to race tonight and need to get my brakes looked at beforehand, so I won't be able to see you before I go after all. Sorry.
Disappointment fills me as I type out my reply, telling him it's okay, good luck, and that I'll see him tomorrow.
He was starting at one of his cousin's job sites this morning, and I've been anxiously waiting the whole day to hear how it went.
I was completely surprised when he told me he had gone to his cousin for a job. I feel like it's part of his “trying to be better” for me, but I never thought the racing itself was bad. I admit, I wasn't particularly a fan of the crowd that was there, specifically the women, but I would never want him to give up on something that he loved just for me.
Is it dangerous, and does it scare me a little? Yes. But I do have faith in Cam's abilities.
Besides the panic attack when I was there that night, I've been okay with anything race-related whenever it's been brought up since then. I don't know if that means I would be okay if I were to go there again, and that's why I wanted to test out the theory a few days ago. But unfortunately, Cam said no.
“Everything okay?” Walter asks, picking up on my change in mood.
“Yeah.” I push the disappointment aside and smile at him. “Looks like I'm free for dinner now. Mind if I stay?”
“I'd love nothing more.”
CHAPTER 26
JASMINE
Something pulls me out of my sleep, forcing me to open my eyes to the dark room. It's still nighttime. That much is clear. My phone is silent, and there are no messages when I check it. There's nothing to indicate what woke me. So, I turn over, getting comfortable under the covers again before I close my eyes.
A second later, I hear pounding on my door. I'm guessing that must be what woke me.
Shuffling to my feet, I pull on my silk robe and check the time, which I hadn't done when I looked at my phone a moment ago. It's just after three a.m. What the hell? I rush to the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it.
“What's going on?” I ask Cam as he steps in.
“Needed to see you,” he mumbles, snagging my waist and pulling me to him. Then, with my body flush with his, he dips his head to my neck, inhaling.
I'm barely awake, still half confused, but my body reacts to him instantly. “Did you just come from your race?” I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his face pressed against the skin of my neck and his hand stroking up and down my back while the other grips my hip.
“It finished a little while ago, but I had to hang around for a bit.”
I stiffen, not liking the idea of him being there any longer than he has to be, especially not with those women around. Like I've said, it's not the racing itself that bothers me. It's the atmosphere, those people. I can hardly complain about it, though, not when he's been doing it for years, long before I came along. And he obviously enjoys it.
Still, I can't bring myself to be happy about him hanging around there longer than necessary. A vision of those men snorting cocaine off that woman's breasts flashes before my eyes, and I begin to pull away from Cam. He doesn't let me, though. Instead, his grip tightens as he trails kisses up my neck, nipping at my jaw when he gets there. It's like he chases away those thoughts with his mouth, and I'm able to focus on the feeling again.
“Did you win?” I ask a little breathlessly
His humorless laugh vibrates against my skin. “I fuckin' lost.”
“Oh.” I wonder if that's why he had to stay back. “I'm sorry,” I tell him.
“It's okay,” he murmurs against me. “You make it better.”
And then his mouth is on mine, kissing me like a starved man. It's always like that – kisses that feel like they're mixed between him thinking it'll be the last time he'll be able to do it and like he's been waiting forever to do it. I kiss him back just as passionately, reaching up to hold onto his biceps.
My tongue strokes along his, the heat of his body soaking into mine. But there's something foreign, and yet familiar, mixed in with the taste of him, a smell that's not just his. The minty flavor of his gum slightly hides it, but it's there. Alcohol. I pull back slightly, just enough to speak over his lips.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Hmm,” is the only response I get as his cool hands slip into the open sides of my robe. Teasing fingers skitter around the skin of my hips and play with the fabric of my underwear, making it hard to concentrate.
“You drank and then drove here?” Little alarm bells start to go off in my head.
“I didn't have much,” he replies, and then adds, “Needed to see you, touch you, taste you.” And as usual, all sense goes out the window when his mouth and hands are on me.
