Page 37 of Unwrapped
“I’m right here, sweetheart.”
“If you’re not inside me in the next thirty seconds, I’m tapping out on principle.”
He chuckles and withdraws his hand, then caresses my ass cheeks. “We definitely don’t wantthat.”
“Then you’d better get a move on.”
“Point taken.” He scoots backward and tugs me up onto my knees. Kneeling behind me, he lines us up and teases me with the head of his cock. “You want me to fuck you?”
Maybe he craves reassurance after so many years of pining. Or perhaps he needs my explicit consent. The reason doesn’t matter. Whatever the question, my answer for him has always been yes.
I arch my back and try to meet his gaze, which is a bit of a challenge in this position. “Yes.”
He grips my hips and fills me with one thrust. I cry out as he starts to move with brutal, pounding strokes. His intensity makes my toes curl. I will never tire of this version of him.
“So perfect,” he growls, slamming into me. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” He digs his fingers into my hips and sets a frantic rhythm, driving me into the mattress.
The blankets muffle my moans, but there’s no silencing the headboard slamming the wall with each thrust.
My gaze finds the clock on his nightstand. It’s only seven. I know Jordana is a light sleeper, and I’d hate to wake her—or anyone else. “Someone’s gonna hear.”
“Don’t care.” His pace doesn’t falter.
The orgasm takes me by surprise, ricocheting through my core. I bite the comforter to keep from wailing his name. My body spasms around him and my legs give out. He lifts me back up.
A few more thrusts and he joins me on a guttural groan. I love hearing his pleasure. In college, I fantasized about how he’d sound when he orgasmed. Reality is far sexier.
He snatches my hands and unties me. Without pulling out, he flops onto his side and tugs me into a spooning position. He molds himself to my back and I melt into his embrace, loving the safety of his arms. I’ve gone far too many years without being held.
His gasping breaths gust my neck when he whispers, “I love you, Camille.”
Too stunned to reply, I cling to his forearm and try to breathe. I’ve loved him for years. I want nothing more than for him to truly feel that way, but my insecurities don’t hesitate to remind me how Ryanonlytold me he loved me after sex. The post-orgasmic fog helped him suddenly express the appreciation and affection he denied me otherwise. Dean is his twin. How deep do their similarities run? What if his declaration is an endorphin-fueled ruse? God knows I can’t handle more empty words and false promises. I’ve heard enough for a lifetime.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears pricking them. Pressing my quivering lips together, I fight to hold back the sob that wants to break free. This was supposed to be a lighthearted reunion with my friends—not a whirlwind romance. We’re leaving the cabin this afternoon, for fuck’s sake. Did I honestly think I’d secure a commitment from Dean when all we’ve done is fuck?
Deep in my bones I know he can’t give me what I need.
I’m furious at my own foolishness. Once again, I’ve done a shitty job of shielding my heart.
Mood Music: “Lost” by Dermot Kennedy
I’m not sure where I went wrong, but Camille has been quiet all day. She excused herself to her room after our romp and stayed up there for hours. She finally emerged with Lena around lunchtime. Except, she picked at her sandwich and barely even looked at me.
It’s early afternoon. Everyone is busy packing up their belongings and tidying the cabin. The owner requested we leave by four so they can get things ready for tomorrow’s guest arrival.
My stomach is a giant knot, and I’ve been staring out a window at a snow-covered Christmas tree for God knows how long.
“You OK, man?” Sawyer asks, coming up beside me.
“Yeah.”
He narrows his eyes on my face. “You sure?”
“Not really.” I release a heavy sigh. “She’s avoiding me.”
“Did something happen? I mean, other than the, uh,eventI overheard.” He smirks.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize how early it was.” I sheepishly meet his gaze. “And no. Nothing happened. She was fine one minute, and then she completely shut down.” I point to the ceiling. “She’s been upstairs ‘packing’ for over an hour.”
