Page 37 of Promise To Marry You
Cam
I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t go back and forth in my mind between sleeping in my own room and sleeping in Beckett’s at least a dozen times the other night. But in the end, the lure of sleep, and of Beckett, was too strong to deny. Just as it has been every night since.
Today marks the fourth morning of waking up tangled in his arms, and by now, I don’t feel surprised by how good it feels.
Except today, instead of him wrapped around me from behind, he’s lying on his back and I’m draped half over top of him like a human blanket. Our legs are tangled together, my head is on his shoulder, and his hand is…yup, his hand is on my ass.
I don’t open my eyes right away. I’d rather stay here, pretend to be asleep, and enjoy this for as long as possible. The slight pang of guilt I feel over taking advantage of his unconscious state is overshadowed by how damn nice this feels.
His breathing is steady underneath my cheek, but then he shifts slightly, his hand tightening on my ass, and his head tilts slightly to nuzzle my hair. “Cam…” he whispers, still sounding asleep. I stay perfectly still. His other hand slowly starts to draw a lazy line up and down my arm that is draped over his bare stomach. “Babe…” he murmurs, his lips definitely brushing against my head.
If I were more fully awake, I might have reservations about this. But in this golden moment between sleeping and waking, my subconscious gives in to temptation. My leg that is on top of his slides up, just enough to brush against his dick as I press my center against his hip. A light moan escapes me as every single nerve ending between my legs comes to life just from that small amount of contact.
My chin ducks down, pressing my face into his chest. I breathe in the distinct scent of Beckett. My hips roll against his side again, and those strong fingers dig into my ass, kneading the flesh. His grip on my arm tightens and I feel his heart rate pick up.
Desperate not to lose this magical moment where I don’t care about the repercussions, I let my lips caress the bare skin of his chest, earning a rumble from him that I feel throughout my entire body. His hand on my ass travels up just a tiny bit, to the waistband of my sleep shorts, where he traces his finger back and forth, dipping just slightly underneath to drift across the slope of my lower back. I shiver, my body moving unbidden, lifting, granting him access without saying a word.
I shouldn’t be wanting this. I shouldn’t be wanting my best friend to touch me where I’m aching for him. This breaks all the rules I’ve ever put in place about never getting involved with Beckett, never risking our friendship just for sex.
My hand traces across the expanse of his chest, scraping lightly over his nipple, then down his side. His muscles tense and bunch under my touch. Neither one of us wants to even breathe, lest we break the spell.
I’m awake. I’m very much aware of what’s going on. And so is he.
But the sheer pleasure of finally giving in to my baser need for physical touch is overwhelming. I’m safe here. This doesn’t have to change anything. I trust Beckett to notallowit to change anything.
No sooner have I accepted that truth does his grip change, and suddenly, I’m lifted up just enough for him to slide underneath my body. Then I’m fully draped over him, my hands landing on his shoulders. There’s no choice but for my gaze to find his. Being this close, and without his glasses covering his eyes, I can see every fleck of gold in their brown depths. And more importantly, I can see every emotion playing out like a movie. I can see his need, his desire, and his uncertainty.
Without him saying a word, I know that his uncertainty is for me. He’s worried I will regret this.
He’s wrong.
I’ve never been more certain in my life that right now, I want Beckett Donnelly to make me feel good.
I lower my head, my hair falling in a dark curtain around our faces and bring my lips to his. I hear his sharp intake of breath just before we meet, and knowing I’ve managed to surprise him with my actions brings a smile to my face. Brushing my mouth against his softly, I try to let him know I won’t push this, that he can stop it if he wants to.
Except the proof that he doesnotwant to stop is pressing against me in a very intriguing way.
“Cam,” he mutters against my mouth. “What are we doing?”
I’ll think of a more coherent answer later. Right now, all I can come up with is, “We’re letting ourselves feel.”
The next pass of my lips on his bring his hands up to cup my head. He takes control, kissing me deeper. The first nudge of his tongue has me opening immediately, eager to feel him. We dance together, the rest of our bodies pulsing with heat, with only a kiss as an outlet.
There’s no warning; all of sudden, Beckett’s arms are around me, and then we flip positions so that my back is on the mattress and my best friend is hovering over me with fire in his eyes.
“There’s no going back from this, Cam; if we do this. If you let me fuck you.”
The rich, borderline out of control tone to his voice makes my pulse race. Gone is my sweet, quiet friend. This man is someone else. Someone familiar and safe, yet oh-so intriguing.
“I want this. I want you.” I lick my lips, his eyes zeroing in on the motion.
He shifts position so that he’s holding himself up on one hand, his biceps bulging perfectly. With his free hand, he drags his fingers through my hair, caresses my shoulder, then moves down to my hand. Next he rocks back onto his knees, bringing that long, hard cock I’m dying to see right in contact with my ridiculously damp shorts.
He grabs my hands in one of his and lifts them over my head, pinning them there as he slowly lowers down until his lips are grazing the side of my head, trailing over to my ear.
“What do you want, Camilla?”
An embarrassingly breathy moan escapes me as he rolls his pelvis into mine, grinding subtly against me.
