Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Cam left one hand on the steering wheel and grabbed her hand with the other.
“Spilling is good. I want all of that. I love it when you’re open about how you feel.” Cam drew a deep breath and blew it out. “I just want to reciprocate, and it’s tough. I told you there were things we still need to talk about. Things you don’t know yet.”
“Do you want this, Cam? You really want me?” Jo held her breath, waiting for his response.
Cam pulled into the cottage driveway and turned off the car. He turned to her, linking their fingers and pressing their hands to his chest.
“Let me put it like this.” He took her eyes hostage, mesmerizing her with a look. “All those times you wondered if I might care, I did. All the times you thought you imagined I wanted you, I wanted you. And all those times you wondered if I might one day feel the same way, well, I do.”
If hope were a bitch, then Jo would just have to watch her back, because now they were best friends.
Chapter Sixteen
It should probably be obvious, but will you get mad if I ask what you’re doing?”
Jo looked up from the eggish concoction she was laboring over, hoping Cam didn’t notice the small tornado that had torn through his kitchen. When she woke up, she’d been alone again. Cam had been outside painting, so Jo decided to get her cook on. She may have bitten off more than she could chew.
“Whisking?” She paused mid-whisk. “I thought I’d make you breakfast.”
Cam walked up beside her at the kitchen island, bare chested, wearing only beleaguered jeans, holding on by threads to his lean hips. The ridged plane of muscle and sinew climbing out of the waistband of his jeans distracted Jo momentarily from her task. Seemingly oblivious to the way her body was responding to the mouthwatering sight of him, he eyed the bag of flour spilled across the granite surface, the butchered peppers and onions, the clumps of ham she had “diced.”
He slid her a glance, lips twitching.
“Are you making…are you trying to make a quiche?”
“Don’t you laugh at me.” Jo reined her body in long enough to aim her egg-covered whisk at his head. “I am trying here.”
“Why try?” He leaned away when she jabbed the whisk at him. “I can cook breakfast for us.”
“I know, but I wanted to do it for you. I can do girl things.”
He leaned in, dipping his head to kiss across her cheeks until he reached her lips.
“Show me your girl things.”
Cam grabbed her wrists, lowering the whisk to the counter and waiting for her to drop it. He pulled her into his arms and slid his hands under the shirt she’d worn to sleep in his bed, palms gliding over her butt in the boy shorts.
“You’re wearing my shirt.” He lowered his head until their lips lined up, running his tongue over the bow of her mouth. “I love my clothes on you.”
“I love your smell on me.” She darted her tongue out to capture his, pushing into his mouth and sliding her hands up over his shoulders and into the dark hair falling around his ears.
He groaned and licked deeper into the kiss, stroking his tongue over the roof of her mouth. One hand cupped her butt and the other wandered up to the front of the shirt. Mouth never leaving hers, he worked the top two buttons loose and slid his hand inside to knead her breast. He twisted a nipple between his fingers, and her breath clogged in her throat.
“Please.” Her plea floated between them, a word held together only by her breath.
Cam moved away from her mouth and over to her ear.
“Please what, baby? What do you want?”
“Your mouth.”
“Where?”
“My…my nipples.”
“I’m really glad you said that.”
Cam pushed the unused food processor to the side and lifted Jo onto the counter, spreading her thighs and planting himself between them. Eyes locked on hers, he pushed the shirt off her shoulders until she was naked from the waist up. Jo wanted to close her eyes so badly, to abandon every sense except what she captured through her skin, to concentrate on the rough pads of his fingers sliding across her nipples. But he wouldn’t let her eyes go. His mouth hovered over her breast, his breath floating over the needy flesh. He started with just the tip of his tongue, familiarizing himself with the areola until her nipples strained toward the promise of his lips and teeth.
“Like that?” He raised his eyes, lips basting her nipples with the question. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
Jo wet her dry lips, sorting through the rubble he had made of her thoughts until she retrieved one word.
“Suck.”
Cam lifted his head, damn him.
“Sorry. I don’t want to get this wrong. Suck what?”