Virgin’s Desire (Bonus)

Kayla C. Oliver

Chapter One

Camille

 

 

I’m shaking. I’m so mad, so hurt.

“What are you trying to say?” I ask Jackson, studying his chocolate brown eyes like he’s going to say something that’ll change my life.

He’s calm as he runs a hand through his douchebag haircut. He’s wearing those skinny jeans I hate and those glasses I know he only wears to look cool. “You’re an ice queen,” he says, blowing his breath out like he’s vaping on the back patio.

“Because I won’t have sex with you?” He’s got me all wrong. He has to. I’m not an ice queen. I’m not a prude. Am I?

“Well, yeah. And because you won’t do fun shit with me,” he says, his fingers finding his phone screen where it sits on the table in front of him. The party invite is there. He’d asked me. I’d turned him down, but not because I don’t want to have fun.

Because I’m studying for finals.

Or… I was studying for finals.

Something snaps in my mind. I was taught to be this. To be perfect. To be pretty. To be sweet. To be loveable. I was top of my high school class. I studied hard, I worked at making sure my hair was pretty, my skin was flawless, and my clothes were fashionable, but not too flashy.

I didn’t overdo it. I didn’t show off. I was perfect.

“So you’re breaking up with me because I won’t party with you or put out?” I ask, finalizing it all in my head. Even as I want to scream and cry, I feel a steely fist closing around those emotions. Before he can answer, I seal my fate. “Fuck you, Jackson. Fuck you and your stupid haircut. Fuck you and your hipster bullshit. You’re not sensitive, or deep. You’re just a stupid prick who only wants to get laid.”

With that, I’m on my feet and out the door of his shitty apartment that I’d tried to convince myself was charming.

Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back. I had worked hard on my makeup. It’s not worth ruining it for him. I head towards home, feeling pain and fury eating at my stomach lining like so much bile. And a plan forms.

I’m not going to class.

I’m tired of being perfect. I’m tired of trying to live for other people. I’m tired of doing what I’m supposed to do. I’m tired of being perfect.

As I open the door to my apartment, I pull off my shirt and let it drop to the floor. My skirt follows. In only my pretty lavender underwear, I stop before my full length mirror. My best friend, Amber, had left a note written in red lipstick on the mirror.

Camille, I love you! Good luck on your finals!

Boy is she going to be surprised.

They’re all going to be surprised. With sure hands, I grab that red dress that’s much too short. Taking off my cute underwear, I pull on the dress with nothing underneath.

I’m a prude, huh?

My hands make quick work of my makeup, darkening the eyeliner and making my lips a deeper red. My blue eyes look wild, troubled, and beautiful. But not perfect.

Pulling my black hair free of the bun I’d wound it up in, I let it tumble free. The thick locks are heavy and have just a hint of a natural curl at the ends. With my short dress, I look… sexy. Naughty.

Not like an ice queen.

 

I stand before the house. It’s more like a castle. No, more modern than a castle. More like a modern mansion. I know the owner by reputation alone. Dakin Dark is the son of an oil tycoon, but he’s made himself. With his own business in real estate, he’s built an empire that rivals his father’s.

And he is every inch the bad boy his name implies. The rumor mill whispers that he loves and leaves ladies, never having the same one twice. Perfect.

This is where the party is. Where Jackson will be. But he won’t be expecting me.

I walk in the door and a drink is instantly thrust into my hand by a guy looking me up and down like I’m a tasty treat he’s been craving. Perfect Camille doesn’t drink. She knows it kills brain cells and lowers inhibitions.

But I’m done being perfect.

I take the shot and cover my mouth as the burn ignites my nose, throat, and belly like I’ve consumed liquid fire.

“All right,” the guy says, nodding at me. I smile and push into the crowded room. All around people sit, talking, smoking, and drinking. There are several pool tables set up and I see Jackson on the other side of the room.

His eyes are on me, but I ignore him and take another shot. This guy doesn’t smile at me. No, he looks at me like he’d love nothing more than to rip me apart. But he passes me another drink and I take it, trying not to cough at the sting.

Warmth hits me first, and I know I’ve had too much, too fast.

But it feels… good.

Another guy grabs my hand and spins me like we’re in a ballroom. “You’re good on your feet,” he says, pulling me close to whisper in my ear.

“Not just on my feet,” I whisper, and his eyes narrow.

Someone else walks up and I face the new stranger. Why didn’t I do this before? These guys are incredible looking, so damn sexy, and not like the stupid, immature Jackson. They seem like they might actually know a thing or two about women.

The warmth becomes a giddy sense as music begins to rumble the floor and an AC-DC song comes on. I find myself on the table, but how I got there is hazy. But all eyes are on me, and I know my dress is too short.

But there’s Jackson, watching me with a look I’ve never seen in his eyes before.

Fuck him.

The music beckons, and I dance, feeling so very sexy, so incredible, so imperfect.

Chapter Two

Dakin

 

 

My phone lights up and I see the video text and open it. I know of the beauty dancing on the table, but I’ve never seen her like this. Another text follows it.

She’s 18.

I’m quick to respond. Thanks, Jake.

Jake’s always had my back. He knows that if word gets out that I’ve got a drunk girl who’s too young to drink, things will get ugly. And while I could easily pay off whatever officer who drops by, I don’t want that kind of thing on my head.

I’m quick to get to my feet and take the stairs two and three at a time. In the main room, I scan and see her still dancing on the table. I can see her legs clear up to her hips, and when she grabs the little skirt to swish it a little bit, I catch a glimpse of her cute, shaved little pussy. It’s a shock, but I shove away the thought. My cock pulses, and I wrap up in steely control.

I’m not controlled by my body.

On the other side of the room, I see him. Jackson, watching Camille. Beyond the obvious lust in his gaze, I see something darker. Murder. I’ve never liked the little fuckwit, hipster wannabe. He’s one of those guys who tries to pretend to be hard while being a little bitch.

With quick strides, I walk up to the pool table and press my shoulder to Camille’s thighs. With one hand around the back of her legs, I pull her off the table. She folds over my shoulder and I carry her like a caveman back toward the stairs and up to my cave.

She should know better.

As I walk, she’s raining blows on my back and trying to kick her legs. But with her bent over me like this, she’s unable to get leverage, and her pitiful hits aren’t enough to actually hurt me. I walk up the stairs with her. She’s such a tiny thing; I don’t even start breathing heavy.

In my room, I drop her on the bed, then internally curse myself. I never bring girls to my room. What am I thinking?

But she looks up at me with those big, blue eyes, her face white as a sheet. “How dare you,” she whispers, her beautiful eyes welling up with tears that only seem to fuel her anger. “If you touch me, I’ll scream--”

“I’m not going to touch you, princess,” I say, locking the door behind me. She looks so delicious on my bed. There’s an innocence to her as she sits, thighs pressed together, one foot drawn up a bit more than the other, her ankles shoulder width apart.

But I’m not looking up her skirt. I’m looking into those incredible blue eyes, thinking about how this girl isn’t the perfect Camille I remember from the days my sister was in high school. What happened to her to destroy her so thoroughly?

“I’m not drunk,” she says, as if suddenly certain that’s what I’m upset about.

She’s partially right. “But you were drinking,” I say, and her incredible eyes fill with shame.

“I was. But I’m not drunk.” She seems focused on that one little detail like it can save her. “I was kind of hoping to see you,” she says, a shy note in her soft voice.

Instantly, my hackles rise. Why? Why did she want to see me? We know each other in passing, and only because my younger sister and she were somewhat friends. Not close friends. Not good friends. Just… kind of friends. I don’t pretend to understand the minefield woman call friendship. It’s not like the friendships I’ve come to enjoy over the years. Jake and I would take bullets for one another. Women, though, seem more likely to shoot one another over an offhanded comment.

She’s watching me, as if looking for some acknowledgement to her comment. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction.

But she doesn’t seem to need it.

“You’re the perfect guy to be the next notch in my belt,” she says, and I feel humor rising within. But I keep it carefully locked away. I’m interested in where she’s going with this because I know for a fact she’s a virgin.

Thanks to that hipster shithead, Jackson.

But she keeps talking. “You’re so sexy, and I hear big,” her eyes drop to my cock, “things about you.” She licks her lips and I feel the urge to push her down and show her she’s playing with fire.

But I don’t. She’s been drinking. I don’t fuck drunk virgins, no matter how hard they try to convince me they’re not really drunk.

I’m not a fucking rapist. Consent requires two clear headed, straight thinking adults. I’m not a god damned saint, but I’m not that kind of monster, either.

My phone chimes and I take it out of my pocket.

Jake’s text is on the screen. Fuckwit is making a scene.

Thanks. I shoot back.

Throw him out?

Nah. I want to see how this plays out. I know Jake means well, but Jackson gives me a bad feeling, and I learned long ago to trust those feelings. They usually saved my ass in one way or another.

“I’ve got something more interesting than your phone,” Camille says, and I glance up at her. Her hand is on her thigh and she’s drawing the red skirt of her dress up inch by inch. Her red lips are pouty, and the darkness around her eyes brings out their striking blue.

Every bit of my body responds to her, but I shake my head. I’m not going to fuck her. No matter how much I might want to.

But it’s quickly becoming clear that maybe I should send her home. Still, I want to make sure that Jackson isn’t going to do anything stupid. With another glance at the beautiful offer before me, I take a deep breath. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Chapter Three

Camille

 

 

He’s so damned sexy. From the smoldering blue of his eyes to the thick, dark hair that’s lit blue in the depths of the black, to the thick fringe of eyelashes that line his eyes, to the slashing eyebrows that make him look almost angry, he’s drool-worthy.

Much more so than I remember.

But he’s not focused on me anymore. He’s back to his phone like it’s more interesting than I am.

“You know,” I say, rising up to my hands and knees. I wait until he looks at me to begin to crawl toward him in the sexiest way I can possibly manage. “You locked the door. Are you sure you didn’t plan something…” I lower my voice to a purr, “else?” I say. My tongue traces my lower lips and the sting of liquor eases a bit more.

His eyes follow my tongue and I know he’s warming up. But I want him out of the layers he’s wearing. That white shirt isn’t a huge barrier, but it’s struggling to conceal the power of his thick, strong arms.

His chest is clearly defined and I can see the outline of his abs as he stretches a bit and takes a step back. His eyes narrow a bit and I sense he’s weakening even more.

“You’ve been drinking,” he says again as if that is a reason to say no.

I sigh, feeling like I’m fighting a losing battle. How could I ever think I could be anything other than perfect, little virgin Camille? I’m such an idiot.

Besides, he’s the big, bad Dakin Dark. What does he care if I’ve had a few drinks? Can’t he tell that I want to stop being perfect, little Camille? I don’t want to be that sweet, innocent girl anymore. Can’t he tell that I want him to act on that expression I keep seeing behind his eyes? The one that’s all lust and tightly wound control?

I am not going to cry in front of him. As I sink back onto my backside, I sit, feeling miserable. If he doesn’t want me, I’ll go find someone else, then. “Fine,” I say, shocked at the petty, rebellious note in my voice. “I’ll find someone else who wants to fuck me. There’s a bunch of cute guys downstairs.”

I feel him tense up and know I’ve struck a nerve.

“Camille,” he says softly, and I look up into those penetrating, blue eyes that promise they know all my secrets. “I know you’re a virgin.”

Anger combusts in me like a match dropped into a lake of gasoline. “What?” I say, anger and shock darkening the word. “What, are you some stalker or something?” The accusation doesn’t even make him blink.

“You’re a damned pervert, right? Peeking into my bedroom windows at night and stuff?” My anger doesn’t seem to have an effect on him and I get out of his bed to poke an angry finger into his chest. But damn does it feel like I’m prodding steel. “Does your mother know you’re a sick peeping Tom?” I ask.

Suddenly, his fingers lock around my wrist and he twists my arm behind my back. I gasp as his hips press me forward and I find myself pinned between him and the bed. I lean forward in a feeble attempt to escape his grasp on my arm, but he’s got me tight.

And suddenly, I realize his hips are pressed tight to me. And there’s a hardness that my instincts tell me is his cock, rock hard, pressed into the cleft of my ass. A moan leaves my lips and I know I’m at his mercy.

And it’s fucking sexy.

He hauls me up and his free hand grabs my chin, holding my back flush with his front. His voice is little more than a growl in my ear, and I feel my knees weaken. “I’m not a fucking peeper.”

I want to agree, to admit I don’t really think he is either, but only a moan leaves my traitorous lips. It feels so good to have him against me like this, I can’t even think straight. I can feel my skirt riding up my hips as I struggle a bit and he holds me captive.

I want to press back on his cock, want to feel him push me down and shove it deep inside me. The warmth combusting in my belly becomes a tingling in the delicate vee between my legs.

“Say it,” he growls, and I whimper.

“You’re…” My breathless voice sounds sexy even to my ears. “Not…” I suck in a deep breath as I feel his cock pulse against my ass. “A peeper.” This has got to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. Being at his mercy, doing as I’m told. It’s a drug that’s wholly intoxicating, and I have a feeling it’s addictive as hell.

And I sense he’s not willing to let me go. I feel his breath on my ear, feel his forearm clamping down on my chest, and feel his heart slamming against my back. My own heart is racing at a breakneck pace that’s leaving me dizzy and I’m sure I’d faint if he wasn’t holding me upright.

“Don’t let go,” I whisper, and I feel him tense up behind me. His cock pulses against my ass again, and I resist the urge to struggle against him. I want to rub on him; feel him get harder. I want to tease him until he can’t help but push me down and bury himself deep inside me.

I want him to fuck me. I want him to give in to the pull of his body. I’m a virgin, but I know how the body works. I know he’s ready for me. And my body is ready for him. There’s a dampness between my thighs that makes them slide sexily together when I shift my weight a tiny bit. I can smell my own heat, my dampness.

It’s delicious.

Chapter Four

Dakin

 

 

I can smell the heat rising off her. She’s wet, ready for me and I can’t seem to fucking let her go. As I hold her, I feel my cock pulse and she moans in response. The tiny sound, a sweet mew of pure pleasure and need, destroys me.

I want her. I can’t deny that; my body is making it very clear.

But I also know better. It doesn’t matter that she’s saying she wants it now. I don’t want her to come to her senses after whatever the hell is going on with her passes and she goes back to being that pure, perfect picture of all that is good in this world.

I let her go, hating myself for it. It’s the right thing to do, but that doesn’t mean I really want to. “You’re on lockdown until you’re sober,” I tell her. She drops onto the bed and stays facing away as if trying to hide tears.

“I’m not risking people finding out that an eighteen year old was drinking at my house.” It’s mostly true. She doesn’t need to know that I have suspicions about Jackson, or what her ex was saying about her when she wasn’t around. If even a fraction of his bullshit was real, she’s safer here, with me, behind these doors. But only marginally.

And it has nothing to do with how much I want her, of course.

“You can’t keep me here,” she says softly and I can’t help but admire her spirit.

“I can’t,” I say honestly, “But I could turn you over to the cops for drinking underage.” That would be more than humiliating, and a mark on her perfect record. Somehow, though, with all that she’s done tonight, I have a feeling that doesn’t matter as much as it used to. Still, I can’t help but think that she might come to regret whatever it is that’s making her act so out of the ordinary tonight.

I’d be worried that Jackson drugged her, but he’d have told everyone. And he’d have kept her home for… other reasons. My gut tightens in anger at the thought, and I want to walk downstairs and punch the bastard in the face.

She’s quiet again and I find it more unsettling than comforting. Somehow, I’m certain that when she’s quiet, she’s plotting. When she turns around, I see her eyes are clear of the tears I expected. She just pulls herself back and settles on my bed while watching me closely.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice sweet and gentle. Her startling blue eyes are locked on mine, and I wonder how much I should tell her. I’m not some white knight. I don’t rescues damsels in distress. While I’ll help people who need it, this is way farther than I’ve ever gone to help someone. But there’s something in her eyes that’s so wounded, so defeated, I can’t help but want to be there for her. Something tells me she needs it.

“Because you need a friend,” I tell her. Her eyes widen, and she seems startled into silence.

When she does speak, it’s heartbreakingly evident she’s in more pain than she’s willing to admit. “I guess word travels fast,” she says.

“You could say that,” I answer, unsure of what she means.

Her eyes begin to sparkle and I see a new strength there. “I’m single and looking for someone to be a man.” There’s a harsh edge to her words, and I can’t help but wonder what happened between her and Jackson. Judging by what he’d said, he’d do anything to get her in bed. Hell, I’d only invited him in the hope that she’d say no.

Jake and Brice both hate him. Cliff thinks he’s a total loser, and he swore he’d take him down. And when it comes to the guys I work with, I trust them. I have to. I come from money, but my real passion – my day job – means I have to trust the guys I work with.

And all three of them think Jackson is the scum of the earth.

My phone lights up and I lift it, knowing several messages have come through. Jake, again.

How is she?

I shrug, though he can’t see me. Tipsy.

How much does she know?

Nothing. Again, something nags at me. Should I tell her the whole truth? Does she know what Jackson is? Did he hurt her?

Cliff is talking to him.

Good riddance. Cliff is no doubt recording any conversation that goes down. And he’ll turn that evidence over to the cops. And whatever Jackson has planned will never come to fruition. Not this time. Hopefully never again.

“What’s got you so intense?”

I look up at Camille. What do I tell her? That her ex is a scumbag who has likely planned something so unpleasant for her that it’ll damage her for life? No one needs that kind of shit hanging over their heads.

“Nothing,” I lie.

Her eyes narrow just a little bit. “Now the truth?” she says, and I can’t help but smile. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, does she? Would the old Camille have let that one slide in the name of being polite? I imagine she would.

Whatever change she’s dealing with, it seems to suit her.

“You got me,” I admit. “There’s someone I’m nervous about. He’s got a reputation for hurting girls.”

“Is he here?” she asks, her tone cool. “I bet it’s Jackson. Since we split, I bet he’s looking to plow some fifteen year old.”

My ears perk up. “Is that something he does?”

Her cheeks tinge red. “He said something to the effect of ‘if you won’t fuck me, I’ll find someone who will’ and I saw him with a girl who looked too young. But I don’t know for sure.” She looks away and I know she’s struggling to put it out of her head.

“So,” she says, looking at me again, her dark hair fanning out on the pillow as she grabs it in one hand and drops it over her shoulder. “Is this your bed?” There’s a light in her eyes I recognize. A heat that has my cock at attention again.

I sigh. It’s going to be a long night.

Chapter Five

Camille

 

 

God, he’s so sexy. Even when he’s not paying me any mind because of his stupid phone. But how to get him to pay attention? Even now while I feel so damn sexy, I’m unsure what to do next. I tried to get him to sleep with me and he said no.

He knows I’m a virgin.

“Did you grab my bag?” I ask him. He looks up at me from his phone, a spark of something akin to distrust in his amazing eyes. But he jerks his chin toward the chest of drawers on the wall. On top of it is the little black handbag I’d brought. I get up and grab it.

Unzipping it, I pull out my phone and see the foil wrappers of the condoms I’d packed. My cheeks blaze as I think about what I’d set out to do. And I remember what I must look like right now. This short dress with its plunging neckline gives a beautiful view of the space between my breasts. The shortness of it shows much more thigh than I’d ever shown before.

But I like the way it makes me feel. I feel free, sexy, like I could demand attention without ever saying a word. Even now, with a deep breath and a view of the pale flesh and gentle swell of my tits disappearing under the red material leaves my heart kicking and galloping in my chest.

How is he not even looking at me? I’m a fucking goddess.

Taking out my phone, I think twice. I was going to call Amber and tell her the shit that’s going on. But I don’t want to. She’ll try to talk some sense into me. Fuck that.

I tuck my phone back in the bag and take out one of the condoms. Maybe it was some silly hope that made me pack six of the damn things. Not that I’d imagined being surrounded by six guys or anything. I’d more hoped for one guy with a high libido.

With a deliberate crawl to the head of the bed, I place the purse on the bedside table and sit down. Keeping my back straight and pushing out my chest, I take the foil pouch and place it between my teeth while carefully holding it between my fingers.

Folding both my legs back so I’m sitting with them bent under me, I watch Dakin. He finishes his text or whatever and puts the phone in his pocket as his eyes meet mine. There’s a flash of heat in his eyes as he identifies the condom.

With a deep breath, I do my best to accentuate my tits. His eyes stay locked on mine, and I tear the condom wrapper. With a strip of the wrapper still between my teeth, I slide the condom out with one hand and put the rest of the wrapper on the bedside table.

He’s watching every move I make and I suddenly feel like a naughty stripper in a one woman show. This is like a private game of truth or dare where no one chooses truth. It’s a dare with him daring me to keep going and me daring him to get closer.

With my free hand, I take the bit of wrapper from my teeth, moving slowly as his eyes follow the movement. My tongue darts out to touch the damp bit of lube on my lips and I realize it’s got a sweet and odd taste to it. It’s not unpleasant, but I’m not going to start sucking on random condoms either.

The flash of heat in his eyes becomes an inferno and I know he’s enjoying the little show I’m putting on for him. Taking the tip of the condom, I place it between my lips and get on my hands and knees. With another deep breath, I make my tits strain to pop free of the plunging neckline. The chill of air tells me that at least half of each breast is free.

And his eyes drop to them like he’s starving before coming back to the condom between my lips. Perfect. I want him to think about his cock between my lips. What would it be like? I mean, I’ve heard all the stories. That guys taste salty, that it’s gross or at the very least, not all that awesome. But still, I can’t imagine anything being more sexy than such a selfless act designed to pleasure the partner. Wouldn’t that bring someone pleasure?

I’d like to find out.

As I crawl toward him, I know he’s weakening. He shifts like he’s adjusting something rather uncomfortable. All of his attention is focused on me, but he’s not staring at me. He’s merely attentive of my presence in the room.

It’s sexy to be on display before him like this, crawling slowly in his direction with my tits straining to be free for his viewing pleasure. At the end of the bed, I halt and take the condom from my lips. Offering it out to him, I give a coy smile and suggestively tell him he might need it.

He takes it and holds it a moment. “You know I won’t,” he says finally and my heart sinks. I sit down on the edge of the bed. This time, I spread my legs a few inches. Will he still say no when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear?

But he doesn’t seem to look.

So I grow bolder.

Rising from the bed, I walk over and straddle him where he’s sitting on the chair. Sitting square in his lap, I feel him shift and know he’s rock hard as I put my elbows on his shoulders and let my arms relax down on either side of him.

With my face near his and my hips begging me to rock against the hardness of him, I have to fight not to kiss him.

“Why don’t you want me?” I whisper, unable to stop myself from planting a little kiss on the corner of his lips.

“I do want you,” he says, his tone hard as if he’s steeling himself.

“So take me. I want it,” I say, my tongue darting out to taste that little bit of scratchy stubble beside his mouth. He tastes clean and warm, spicy and dangerous. I know I’m playing with fire and I can’t wait to get burned.

Chapter Six

Dakin

 

 

I need to stop this before it gets bad. She’s a beautiful girl and my cock is already straining so hard against the zipper of my slacks I’m worried I might bust the seam. I turn my head to the side to stare off at nothing, anything, something other than the suddenly sexy, nearly irresistible Camille.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

Sure, I want to stick to my guns and say she’s drunk, but she’s not acting drunk. She’s not slurring and her motions are effortless, not sloppy like someone who’s had too much. Her thoughts even seem clear.

But with all those reasons in mind, I know them for what they are: justifications.

“Don’t turn away,” she whispers, her breath cooling the spot beside my mouth where her tongue had tasted me. “Please just give me this,” she says, sounding almost broken.

“Why are you doing this, Camille?” I ask, hoping to steer things away from the pressure I’m feeling below the belt.

She sits back and I realize the room is colder without her close to me. My phone chimes, and I ignore it. Right now, I want to focus on her. I watch her eyes dart to my phone and study my reaction – or lack of one, perhaps – to it.

After I ignore it, she begins to tear up a bit.

“Jackson broke up with me,” she whispers, her cheeks and nose reddening a little like she’s about to cry. She’s still pretty, but there’s a vulnerable quality to her that melts my heart.

Which is weird as I’ve never considered myself that kind of guy.

She closes her eyes for a moment and I see her eyes darting back and forth under her lids like she’s trying to chase away the tears. When she opens them again, a single tears slips down her cheek and I reach out without thinking. Placing my fingertips on her jaw, I run the pad of my thumb under her eye to capture the lone tear and banish it from her face.

She draws in a ragged breath and I want to kiss her. More than anything, I want to kiss her.

But I don’t.

Her lips part and she speaks with great effort. “I don’t want to be a,” she lowers her voice like she’s sharing a secret with me, “virgin anymore. I don’t want to be a prude, or an ice queen.” She hesitates and I nod to silently tell her I’m listening.

I want to protect her. From Jackson, from herself, from me.

There’s a moment of silence before she speaks again. “I’m ready.” Her jaw sets stubbornly and I have a feeling I’m in for trouble. “And you’re not the kind of guy who’d be all sappy about taking my virginity.”

I’d feign hurt if it wasn’t true. I’ve never felt that being a virgin was some incredible quality of a woman. I’ve never felt that it makes anyone any more pure or perfect. I don’t have the urge to go where no man has gone before. If Camille feels that it’s a chore, she’s got the right opinion in my book. Public perception makes it such a bigger deal than it really should be.

In this world, there’s no such thing as innocence.

“It’s not something I’ve been so careful to keep,” she says quickly, as if to debate something I’m not arguing with her. “My parents were so intent on me studying and getting good grades there was just no room for boyfriends. But that reputation stuck, you know?” Her blue eyes are almost mournful as they meet mine.

And I feel bad for her.

My phone chimes again and again, I ignore it.

Her eyes dart to it, then back to my face as if she’s trying to figure out what I’m going to do next.

“So what do we do now?” she asks after a moment.

I open my mouth to answer but am drowned out by the sound of someone pounding on the door. Camille is startled, her whole body jolting and goose bumps breaking out over her skin. I’m on my feet and across the room quickly. Opening the door, I come face to face with Jake, who grabs my arm and pulls me aside.

Stepping into the next room, I face him. “What?” I ask, impatient.

“Jackson left.” Jake sounds stressed. But there’s a light in his eyes that tells me he’s still on it.

“Who’s got eyes on him?” I ask, needing to know where he went.

“The guys are looking around the house first, but someone swears he went outside.” Jake’s posture becomes threatening, but I know it’s not toward me. He’s pissed that Jackson gave him the slip. “He was threatening her,” Jake says, and I feel rage bubbling up in my gut.

How dare the fucker. I’ll kill him.

“So we keep him away from her,” I say, knowing it sounds much more simple than it is. “I told her she’s here until she sobers up.”

Jake nods. “I’ve got the blue ready.”

“Zac?” I ask, knowing that Jake’s friends with one of the cops. Jackson’s rap is pretty intense, but the cops have had a hell of a time finding out what’s just him talking big and what’s real. Still, the thought of him hurting Camille… it’s enough to make me see red.

“Why do you have such a hard on for him?” Jake asks, and I shake my head.

“It’s just a feeling, man.”

Jake’s eyes narrow and I know he’s not buying it. “She got to you?” he asks. There’s an out in his eyes, but I’m not taking the easy route.

“How old is Sam?” I ask and anger flashes behind his blue eyes. His little sister is only sixteen, but she looks older. And a guy like Jackson would go for her if he thought he could get away with it. “He’s an opportunity from statutory at best and who knows at worst?”

On the other side of the wall, I hear Camille cry out and my heart stops.

Chapter Seven

Camille

 

 

I feel so sad when Dakin steps out of the room for a moment. But I get that there’s something going on. I feel the tension in the air after the two guys walk off a few paces and into a new room. Peeking out the door, I decide I don’t want to listen to them. Whatever it is, it’s none of my business.

I slip out of the room and head to the landing of the stairs. From there, I see Jackson and I duck back into the room, hoping he didn’t see me.

Those hopes are dashed when he comes into the room and walks right up to me. His hand closes around my throat and I can’t even choke out a scream.

“Fucking finally,” he snarls in my ear and I whimper as my lips start to tingle. Forced to silence by his hand on my throat, I can only claw at him as he pushes me back onto the bed. Managing to get a leg between his, I bring my knee up. I hit his thigh and he grunts.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he says and I feel the world beginning to fade. White spots dance before my eyes and I go totally still. Unable to actually talk, I merely move my lips.

“I won’t fight,” I mouth silently, careful to keep my body still and limp.

“I knew you wanted it,” he says, releasing his hold on my throat.

Gulping in deep breaths, I feel him paw at my chest and want to throw up on him. “You owe me this,” he says as I struggle to keep from passing out. “You fucking prude bitch.” His hands can’t manage to free me from the dress and I’m thankful. My heart pounds so hard I wonder if he can feel it.

I move my lips and he leans in as if to hear what I’ve said. And I smash my forehead into him. Pain flowers through me and I let out a yelp of pure pain and surprise as he stumbles back, rage in his features. There’s something more than rage. I see murder behind those cruel eyes.

In seconds Dakin and another guy burst into the room. Dakin strikes faster than a cobra and suddenly, Jackson’s nose is dripping blood as the other guy grabs his arms and hauls him out of the room.

Then Dakin is on me, holding me, asking if I’m alright. His fingers find my forehead and I hear him whisper that he’ll kill him. But I cling to him.

“Don’t kill him,” I whisper. “He’s not worth it.” He’s not. He’s a fucking piece of shit, but he’s never attacked me before. Not physically. He’s yelled at me; he’s been an asshole. But more often than not, he settles for silent disdain.

Still, he hadn’t been like that in the beginning. He’d been so sweet, so caring and deep. Or maybe I’d been too stupid to see him for the monster he really was.

“Are you okay?” Dakin asks, and I cling to him.

“He didn’t do anything. Not really,” I say, gulping back tears as I realize the ache in my throat. At the door, I see the other guy who’d dragged Jackson off.

“Should I call Zac?”

Dakin shakes his head, holding my cheek to his chest. I listen to the strong and steady beat of his heart and realize that I might be in more trouble if he hadn’t been right there.

“I’m sorry,” Dakin says. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“But you did,” I whisper, feeling miserable.

Suddenly, I hear Jackson yelling and every hair on my body stands on end. “I’ll fucking kill her!” he shouts. “I’m the one who should be fucking her, not that piece of shit!”

My face blazes red hot and I feel Dakin stiffen. “Don’t listen to him,” he says, cupping a hand over my ear and keeping the other pressed firmly to his chest.

“Who’s Zac?” I ask, needing to think about something other than Jackson’s ugly words. Dakin seems surprised by the question.

“He’s a cop.”

“Why did you tell him not to call the cop?” I’m confused.

“Because you’ve been drinking,” Dakin says, and anger rises up in me. I push him away and stand on my feet a few feet away from him.

“What?” I ask, not believing my ears. But I do believe it. And my heart sinks like a stone. “I was attacked and you told them not to call the cops?”

Dakin sits on the edge of his bed, watching me like I’m a wild cat and he’s waiting for me to strike.

“Why?” I ask, tears beginning to crowd my eyes again. I hate myself for crying. I hate myself for being so weak and so pathetic.

He seems so matter of fact when he responds. “You’ve been drinking.”

At his house. He’d get hit with supplying a minor. He only cares about his own damn self. What an asshole.

“I’m leaving,” I say, misery threatening to drown me.

But he’s on his feet in a flash and his hand closes around my arm just above my elbow. “You can’t go,” he says, and I jerk out of his grasp.

“Too bad,” I say before turning toward the door. He’s in the doorway before I can get out, and he braces both arms on the frame and blocks me so very neatly. He’s imposing, his eyes are bright and narrow, and I know he feels like he’s fighting a battle he has to win.

Well, so am I.

“Let me go,” I tell him with as much authority as I can muster. He has no right to hold me here against my will.

“No,” he says simply and I look up at him, hating him for doing this to me.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, and he studies my face as if trying to decide how to answer. And I know the next thing out of his mouth is bullshit.

“Because I want to keep you safe. Please stay.” There’s a sincerity in him that I want to believe, but I just can’t. If he really had my best interest in mind, he’d have called the cops.

Then again, my phone is in here. I could call the cops. The thought makes me pause, and I begin to wonder why I’m hesitating. Jackson tried to rape me, to kill me, possibly. Yet the thought of calling the cops on him still leaves me shaking in fear.

As if this is some bad movie, I hear Jackson again, but he’s up here now, behind Dakin, talking in a voice that’s oddly calm and composed.

“Step aside, pretty boy. You swore you’d help me.”

Chapter Eight

Dakin

 

 

As soon as the words leave Jackson’s mouth, I want to kill him. But Camille goes white as a sheet and there’s a look of betrayal in her eyes that shreds my very soul to bits.

I can explain. I told Jackson I’d help him, but clearly not in the way he thinks I meant. I was going to help him by getting him locked up before he could really hurt anyone. Or kicking the shit out of him until he can’t fuck with anyone else. Still, while looking at the whole world crumbling in Camille’s eyes, I know I have to protect her first and explain later.

Seeing red, I turn and walk over to Jackson and grab him by the collar with one hand. Shoving him back, I drag his ass down the stairs, back first. His hands grab at my arm as I haul him down to the room of guests who have heard nothing over the heavy bass in the music they’re enjoying.

But the music stops as I jerk the struggling Jackson off the last step and onto his feet.

“This son of a bitch is a rapist,” I say loud enough for the room to hear. It’s so quiet I can hear Jackson’s heartbeat. “If he has attacked you,” I say, scanning the women in the room with a silent plea and an offering of strength, “report him. I know it’s scary, it’s hard, and it’s humiliating. But he’ll never stop if he’s not punished.”

I scan again, seeing uncertainty. “But you’re strong. Stronger than he is.”

While Jackson struggles, I let him go and he falls flat on his ass amidst sudden whispers and a few titters of laughter.

“I’ll fucking kill you and that bitch,” Jackson spits.

A small, cruel smile tugs at my lips. “Not if I find out what you’ve done first,” I say and his eyes widen.

“Did you just threaten me?” He sounds incredulous.

“Not a threat,” I say simply, “A promise. I’d watch my back if I were you.”

Jackson scans the crowd looking for a single, friendly face. But people are staring at him like he’s something they tracked in on the bottom of their shoes and I know I’ve destroyed him for this group.

And word will spread.

Jackson looks at me and lifts a finger to point at me. “You’re dead,” he says. Beside me, I feel Jake step by my side and cross his arms over his chest.

“That sounds like a threat,” he says softly, but I put a hand on his chest to keep him still.

Jackson’s eyes narrow and I see him snap. He lunges for me and I meet his face with a savage right hook that sends a shockwave up my arm into my shoulder. Everything gives as I smash him again. He hits the floor, but I’m only a second behind as I hit him again and again, with every ounce of fury and hatred in me lashing out at this son of a bitch.

Jake tries to grab me, but I shove him back with enough force to take him down and return my rage to Jackson.

“Stop!” I feel Camille’s presence rather than hear her.

Suddenly, she’s before me, her eyes on Jackson before they come up to meet mine. And I see something there I’d never expected: fear.

“You’re going to kill him,” she whispers over the sudden buzz in the room. I look up, seeing most of the group has dissipated, but those still around are staring at me, shock clear on their features.

But not Camille. She’s looking at me like she’s scared of me.

And I look down at Jackson. He’s bloody and bruised. Jake touches my arm. “He swung at you first.”

The room agrees with nods and a girl walks up to me and hugs me. “Thank you,” she whispers, before looking at Jake with a look that clearly says she has something to say. He takes her aside and I know he’s calling Zac.

It’s what I set out to do, but this isn’t how I wanted to get here.

Camille takes my fingers in her hand and rises to her feet in a graceful motion that sends my pummeling heart into overdrive. I follow her as she leads me off towards the bathroom. She says nothing as she takes my hands and moves them under the faucet.

I watch her attention to detail as she turns on the water, adjusting it to be warm and begins to scrub my hands and knuckles with soap. Her features are tight, worried, and I still see lingering fear there.

“How much did you hear?” I ask, needing to know.

She hesitates and her eyes meet mine. “Enough.”

As the water runs red, then pink, and finally clear, I sense she’s scared of me and I feel like a monster. I didn’t want her to see that. I should have had more self-control. I should have been a better man.

I don’t lose my damned temper. Not ever. This fluke will haunt me forever, I’m certain.

Camille rinses my hands, her fingers trembling and I want to tell her she doesn’t have to be in here with me. She doesn’t have to stay. She can go, but I need her to be safe. It isn’t about keeping her here to protect myself.

I’m not sure why I feel so protective of her. Maybe because I couldn’t help several of the other girls. I knew; there was always a nagging doubt about what he did behind closed doors. But I didn’t have proof, and I didn’t have a good way to get it.

“You can go home,” I say softly.

She looks up at me, surprised. “No,” she says, shaking her head a little, “We have a few things to talk about.”

That phrase makes my balls retract. Nothing good ever comes from that string of words in that order. But I’m sure as hell not going to tell her no.

Chapter Nine

Camille

 

 

I’m shaken. The last few shreds of hazy heat form the alcohol have left me clear headed and nervous. I missed something, something major.

I didn’t know Jackson was such a bad person. And hearing Dakin tell all the girls in the room that if he did anything to them that they needed to overcome their shame and step up, left me shaking and terrified. I was with a monster.

How did I get off the hook? Why did he let me walk away?

But the fresh memory of him attacking me in the room rises up. I didn’t get away. He was just playing me. He was letting me walk away so he could really enjoy it when I came crawling back.

With a towel, I dry Dakin’s hands and notice he’s still studying me as intently as he was in the moments after I’d told him not to kill Jackson.

A shiver runs through me and my blood runs cold. Dakin would have killed Jackson. And I know his friend tried to stop him, but Dakin threw the guy to the floor without breathing heavy and kept raining the wrath of hell down on Jackson.

“I’d never hurt you,” Dakin says in such a low voice I almost miss the words.

And I know he’s telling the truth. “I know,” I say, thinking back on how he’d been so adamant that he wouldn’t even sleep with me if I’d been drinking.

Our eyes lock and I feel my heart begin to pump double time. Still, some part of me whispers that he’s dangerous. I don’t know him all that well. And what I’ve seen is two sides of one coin. He’s kind and sweet to me. But someone who can lose their temper like that is someone who might blur lines of what’s right and wrong.

What’s to stop him from losing his temper at me?

But I can’t imagine it. He’s been so careful and protective of me I can’t even bring myself to imagine that kind of violence being directed at me for anything I could possibly do. Plus, if he did that because of what he’d accused Jackson of… I’ve got nothing to worry about from him.

“Is that why you wouldn’t let me leave?” I ask, inspecting the small scratches on his knuckles. They don’t look like they need to be bandaged, but I look around for some medical stuff anyway. I’d rather be safe than sorry.

I find a medical kit under the sink and take it out. “I’m fine,” he says, pulling away as I reach for him again, but I grab his hand and give him my best I’m in charge look. He relents and gives me his hands.

“I didn’t want him to follow you,” he says, watching me take out some antibacterial cream. I smear it on the cuts and take out some gauze.

“But you were protecting yourself, too,” I say, needing him to be honest with me. “You didn’t want people to find out I’d been drinking. You might have gotten charged with supplying a minor.”

But he shakes his head. “That was such a small part of it. I wanted you to be safe. I knew it was only a matter of time before things escalated with you. He’s got a pattern.” I sense his anger ramping up and know he’s blaming himself.

“Thank you,” I say as I place the gauze on his knuckles and grab a roll of medical tape. I look up into his eyes. “For making sure I wasn’t the next one,” I say, the words catching in my throat as I realize how close I was to disaster. He’d saved me from something horrible.

I wind the tape around his hands, feeling tears rising up to choke me. How had I not known? I mean, I had a creep vibe from him; I knew he wasn’t genuine. But I never would have suspected he was as bad as Dakin said he was. And judging by the number of girls who’d hung back to talk to Dakin’s friend who knew the cop, I had a feeling there was a long line of people that had something to say about Jackson’s crimes.

As I finish wrapping up Dakin’s hands, he reaches out and touches my face, but I can’t look at him. I can’t let him know I’m about to cry. I’m so damn stupid!

“Hey,” he says softly as I put the tape back in the bag. Both his hands come up to capture my cheeks and I shiver at the sensation of his rough fingers on my face. He tilts my head up and I blink back the tears. But there’s nothing more than worry and warmth in his eyes as he studies me.

“It’s okay,” he says. Suddenly, he leans in and places his lips on my forehead. My arms slip around his shoulders and I cling to him. He’s warm and safe, reminiscent of home and love.

His arms come around me and I just cling to him like he can wipe away all the fear, all the humiliation, and all the uncertainty I feel right now. “I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like an idiot. I’m here crying and nothing even really happened to me. Sure, Jackson kind of attacked me, but compared to the other girls, I feel like I’ve got nothing to complain about.

He didn’t actually get to hurt me. He raped them. I can’t complain about being grabbed by the throat.

“You’re safe,” Dakin whispers, his lips still on my forehead.

I pull back and gather up the last remnants of my self-confidence, composure, and strength.

But Dakin seems bothered. “Don’t close up,” he says gently and I smile at him through the sheen of tears in my eyes.

“I’m okay,” I say. Because I am. He didn’t rape me. I got lucky, and I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Besides, didn’t I leave the house hoping to go home without my virginity?

Oh, hell no, I think. I did not just give myself that stupid, victim blaming line that I wouldn’t have dressed that way if I didn’t want to get raped line. Fuck him for making me even go there in my mind.

“I should have let you kill him,” I whisper.

Chapter Ten

Dakin

 

 

I see it in her eyes. She’s blaming herself. But her struggle begins to fade and she looks up at me again. “Why did he think you were going to help him?” she asks, and my heart begins to sink.

It’s not what she thinks, but I’m certain it’ll look bad no matter how I tell her. So I lie. I’m not proud of it, I feel like shit, like a total asshole for not being honest with her. But I don’t see any good coming from the truth.

“I was going to help him get home, but I guess it was ambiguous.” There’s a flash in her eyes and I know she knows I’m not being totally honest.

I take her hand and we leave the bathroom and head back up to my room. Since I know she might decide to leave, I’ve got to go talk to a few of the bodyguards I trust. I’ll have them follow her and keep her safe.

“Stay here,” I tell her. “Lock the door behind you.”

She perches on the bed and nods.

“Do you want to talk to the cops tonight?” I ask, needing to give her the option. She shakes her head and answers in a clear voice that’s unmistakably strong.

“I’ll give them a statement tomorrow if they even want one from me,” she says, her hand creeping up to her throat. The skin there is a tiny bit red, but I’m not sure it’ll even bruise.

“There’s enough on him…” I say, knowing that she’s rethinking talking to the cops at all. The girls who are going against him will all build a pretty solid case, I’m sure. And I know the DA. He’ll gladly push to hang Jackson out to dry.

She nods and I step out. But I don’t walk away until I hear the soft snick of the door lock.

Downstairs, the party has dimmed a bit, and the girls who needed to talk to Zac are gone. Jake is smiling ear to ear and I know he’s trying to get the party back into swing. Several of the buddies I rock climb with are in the group and I see fresh drinks being poured.

I walk over to the group I’ll gladly rub shoulders with. Brice lifts his drink in my direction. Jake’s eyeballing me as I take the drink Shane offers me.

“Damn, man,” Brice says, shaking his head.

But I’m here to talk to Cliff, who’s standing to my right with a sullen expression. “If she leaves, man, I need you to keep an eye on her.”

Cliff nods, downing his drink and leaving the group.

“How’s the other guy look?” Brice asks me, and I shrug.

“Like hammered shit,” Jake says. He nods at my hands. “Little lady?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at me in a knowing manner.

I nod, not willing to talk about it.

And I see it, that moment where the guys look at each other and glance at me. They fucking know.

“She’s gorgeous,” Brice says, and I feel anger rising up.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” I growl, knowing what Brice would do to a pretty girl like her. He might be my friend, but she’s just a sweet, unassuming girl and I’ll kill him.

He nods, and I know I’ve failed the test.

“It’s not like that,” I say, needing them to know I just feel responsible for her while she’s here, in my house, and tipsy. “She’s been drinking and she’s not thinking straight.”

The guys nod, but Brice is looking at the ground, Shane’s looking past me, and Jake’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“You can’t get attached, man,” Jake says, and I shake my head.

“I’m not.”

But Shane lets out a low, gruff laugh that makes me want to smash his face in. “Attached? She’s got you hook, line, and sinker.” He pats my shoulder. “I’ll see ya again, never.”

“Bullshit,” I say, hating the joke that if I’m with a girl, they’ll never see me again because she’ll rule my life. “Are we going out climbing this weekend?” I ask, needing to steer this sinking ship another direction.

“We are,” Brice says, elbowing Shane as he chokes on his drink, “You’re gonna be under the whip.” He mimes cracking a whip and I feel my jaw clench.

“Fuck off,” I mutter before leaving the circle. I don’t need their shit. Today has been terrible enough. We might be friends, I might trust them with my life, but clearly they’re all blind mother fuckers if they think I’m in love.

As I head back toward the stairs, I wonder where Cliff went. Likely outside. If he’s not watching her, he’ll be contacting someone to do so. But he’ll handle it. That’s why I asked him. So I turn and head outside, hoping to bump into him.

He’s out on the bench beside the house with his phone in his hands. But he’s aware of me. I know it in the change in his body language. He’s a big guy. He’s well over six feet, with dark hair and olive skin. He blends in, other than his height.

Somehow he can melt into a crowd and just fit in. It’s a talent he uses to his advantage. But what unsettles people who don’t know him is how quiet he is. He just listens and rarely speaks unless he’s got something real to offer.

I sit beside him and pull my phone from my pocket.

“What’s the worry?” he asks me quietly and I choose my words carefully.

“Jackson attacked her. She’s been drinking and is… was intent on losing her virginity.” I know he’s turning his head to look at me out of the corner of his eyes, but I don’t meet his stare. “I’m not a piece of shit,” I say, hating that I even have to explain myself. “With everything that’s happened, I’m not sure she’s still feeling like getting laid.”

But Cliff says nothing and I wonder if I’m just projecting my worry onto him. Since when do I second guess myself and what people think about me like this?

She’s fucking messing with my head.

Chapter Eleven

Camille

 

 

All the stress is weighing on me. I feel it crushing my soul and I want to relax. But with Dakin gone – even with the door locked – I feel like I’m in danger. What if Jackson comes back to finish what he started? Will I ever feel safe again?

Putting my head in my hands, I take a few deep breaths.

I’m okay. The cops would have arrested Jackson. With all the girls stepping up to tell their stories of him, there’s no way he’s not sitting behind bars right now. Right?

As I calm myself down, I realize how tired I am. My brain is struggling against my body. My body wants to sleep, but my brain is running a million miles a minute.

But I know that tomorrow, in the light of day, all of this will look a hell of a lot less terrifying and a lot less ugly.

The thought of Dakin’s face as we talked in the bathroom swims back to the edge of my mind. There’d been something so broken in him, something so raw and frightening. But he’d also told me he’d never hurt me.

And I trust him.

Maybe I’m crazy. Scratch that, I am absolutely crazy. But something about him just digs at me. The way he studies me, the way he seems to look right through me into my very soul… it just makes me sure there’s so much more to him than I thought in the beginning.

And he’s every inch the bad boy I thought he was… to a point.

Then again, what kind of bad boy has a girl practically fawning all over him and begging him to fuck her and just says no because she’s been drinking? That sounds oddly like someone who’s a good person.

Throwing myself back on his bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Overhead, I see stars beyond the skylight and wonder what it would be like to have him right here beside me.

The confines of the dress are feeling like a bit too much. But I’m reminded how very sexy I feel as I look down and see the flesh of my tits struggling to escape the plunging neckline. In this foreign place, I’m suddenly excited like I’ve never been before.

This is Dakin’s bedroom. A place where he’s undoubtedly fucked plenty of girls. But instead of being grossed out, my body hums to life. What if I was one of them?

Better yet, what if I was the last one?

Fuck it, it’s my fantasy, I’m going all out on it.

Studying the stars overhead, I run a hand down my flat belly and let my fingertips trace the gentle jut of my hip bone.

What would it feel like if they were his hands? How would Dakin touch me? Would he be gentle as if worried he might break me? Would he be rough and demanding? My hips tilt as my fingers find the bare skin of my thigh and inch up, tickling, teasing, and leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

Tracing over the top of my thigh toward the delicate flesh if my inner leg, I run them up as if to touch my pussy, but fall short. There’s no coming back from this. If I get off to him right here in his bed, right now while he could walk in, I’m never going to live it down if he walks in.

Then again, if he walks in, maybe he’ll put me out of my misery.

I can live through a little humiliation. I’ve lived through worse, right?

My fingers slide sexily on the moisture between the folds of my pussy. It’s delicious, and I hear the sound of how wet I am as I touch and explore. All the while, I see Dakin in my mind’s eye. I can imagine him over me, teasing me with his fingers to prepare me for more, for him.

A moan breaks from my lips as my body hums to life. Sensations crash from everywhere in contrary waves. My belly tightens and my hips buck into my hand as if I’m just going too slowly.

Pressing my eyes closed, I whimper and bite down on my lower lip. I don’t want anyone to hear me. That would be worse than him walking in on me.

Not that him walking in on me would be a bad thing, judging by how my body responds to the thought with more moisture and a burst of pleasure in my belly.

With my free hand, I tug the neckline of the dress and let my tits free of the confines they’ve been imprisoned behind. Their pale complexion is broken by a few scattered freckles and the dusky rose coloring of my nipples.

My hard nipples.

Damn, I guess this fantasy is better than I imagined. With my free hand, I squeeze one of my nipples and choke back a yelp of pain and pleasure at the sensation. My fingers find my clit and I work quick circles around the delicate button.

The dress covers nothing that should be covered now. It’s just hiding my belly and ribs while my tits and pussy are on display. And it’s fucking sexy.

Rubbing my clit with one hand, I continue teasing my nipples to tight little points while struggling to keep my noise to a minimum. Every tweak of my nipple sends sparks of pleasure bolting straight to my core.

And my fingers move faster as the pleasure begins to increase and increase. Fuck, would he lick me? Taste me? Tease me to orgasm before finally deciding to take the disgraceful stigma of virginity from me?

Sucking in a shuddering breath, I feel my belly coiling up tight and my hips begin to jolt as I reach the edge of orgasm and teeter cruelly. It’s incredible torture, the best and worst thing I’ve ever experienced, and all I want is to just come.

Suddenly it all crashes over me as Dakin’s name leaves my lips. My teeth slice through my lower lip and I taste the sharp metallic bite of blood as everything in me hits overdrive. I feel faint, on the edge of something great, and my core is a coiled spring ready to release.

And shockwaves explode out from my core in an intense circus of pleasure. Moans and Dakin’s name leave my lips over and over, quietly, but so loud to my ears I’m both afraid and exhilarated that he’ll hear me and know I’m in his bed, thinking about him fucking me.

And that I’m coming while thinking of him.

As the twitching of my core wrenches every last bit of breath from my lungs, I suddenly see the stars overhead again. It’s as if the world had faded out slowly without my notice and suddenly blinked back in.

The clenching of my pussy begins to slow and my whole body relaxes as I just stare out the skylight. I feel wicked and delicious, sexy and spent, exhausted and ready to be gathered up in Dakin’s arms.

But he’s not here. My fantasy dissolves, but my resolve to find out if the man measures up to the fantasy solidifies in my mind.

Slowly, my breaths begin to return to normal and I feel my eyelids growing heavy as the world begins to drift off into darkness.

Chapter Twelve

Dakin

 

 

Whatever’s got me so worked up over her has got to be in my head. Or maybe it has something to do with her plot to get me to fuck her. Whatever it is, I need to get her out of my system. I’ll wait until tomorrow when I won’t have to worry about my conscious screaming that I’ve taken advantage of her.

But for now, I’m going to check on her. I need to know she’s okay. I need to know it with every ounce of my being because I know I’ll never forgive myself if something bad happens to her while I promised she’d be safe. She’s in my house, under my care, I need to know she’s alright.

At my bedroom door, I try the handle. It’s locked. Instead of knocking like a normal person might do, I’m compelled to force it. It’s like something deep within me is taking over and the part of my brain in charge of rational thought is simply away on vacation.

The door releases with an almost inaudible sound. The handle turns easily in my hand and I peek in on her.

And the scene I see is enough to instantly have my cock at attention and my whole body intent on joining her. She’s sprawled back on my bed, legs spread, fingers on her pussy, tits pointing to the ceiling and her eyes closed.

She’s fucking sexy and I want to destroy her.

“Dakin,” she moans and my cock strains against my pants as I back out of the room and close the door, certain she didn’t hear or see me.

Standing there, feeling my heart pump in my chest and feeling the thump of my pulse in my cock, I’m struggling against the urge to burst back in and fuck her.

I’m not controlled by my cock.

But she’s in there, thinking about me while she fingers her sweet pussy.

She’s also been drinking.

But said she wasn’t drunk. She’s not drunk!

It’s worth the risk.

I’d never forgive myself.

Pulling my arm off the wall, I resist the urge to strike out and smash my knuckles through the drywall. Before I can do something I’ll regret, I turn and walk down the hall.

Like I’m wasted myself, I stumble down the stairs, not even caring if I make a noise now. Downstairs, the party is back in full force. Music thumps and lights flash, creating still snapshots of pretty girls moving in time to the beats.

As I step off the last step, two pretty blonds instantly flank me, each leaning into me like I’m the one person they’ve been waiting for all night.

But I want them gone.

I want Camille.

Still, some caveman throwback part of my brain promises that if I fuck these girls, I’ll be calm for Camille. Hell, it’ll allow me to be more gentle when I fuck her. When I take her god damned virginity. Fuck, it sounds nuts, like some stupid fluffy chick flick. Some annoying rom-com I wouldn’t watch unless I needed some noise to sleep through.

But I know I won’t fuck these blonds. Because if Camille finds out, it might hurt her. She might misunderstand. She might think that if I sleep with these girls, that I don’t want her. It’s best to wait until I can talk to her, be open with her, because, for the first time in my life, I actually care what she thinks or how she feels.

Fuck. Maybe I am going nuts.

I step away from the girls and see the shock in their faces as I wave them away. But I’m not interested. I’m worried about the girl upstairs and the guy who threatened her. Even with Cliff on the job and all the guys promising to let me know if anything happens, I’m still nervous.

I find Shane in the room and bump into him. “Have you seen Zac?” I ask, and Shane shakes his head.

“The girls are down at the station,” he says, almost yelling to be heard over the music. “You really had them coming out of the woodwork. Fucking heroic, bro.”

I shake my head. “You’d have done it if it were your house.” He would have, too. I know that there’s a level of respect when you’re at another man’s house, but Shane, of all the guys, would have called it if I hadn’t. “Where’s Eek?” I ask, wondering where his on again, off again girlfriend, Ericka, is tonight.

“Off tonight,” he says simply, and I wonder what the hell is going on between them. I know that they’ve got a weird relationship. It seems almost like a convenience thing, someone to take home to their parents, or maybe just a total fabrication of an entire relationship. But getting Shane to cop to anything is like trying to get a dog to speak English.

“I’m here if you need to talk,” I tell him and he nods.

Jake comes up on my right and grabs my arm like he’s about to pull me into a hug, but he stops short to whisper-shout into my ear. “He’s out.”

There’s only one he that Jake could be talking about. Jackson.

I jerk my head toward the back door and we head toward it. Once we’re outside, I see Cliff studying something and know we’re safe to talk.

“What do you mean out?” I ask Jake, who’s looking a bit green.

“The cops are looking for him. There’s a warrant for his arrest, but he slipped the noose.” Jake’s shaken, and I wonder what the fuck happened.

Cliff turns to look at us as I demand answers. “Weren’t you watching him?”

“He had to pee, man. Next thing I knew, he was out the window and gone.” Jake’s pissed, I can see it in how he clenches and unclenches his fists.

Without a word, Cliff leaves the yard and I know he’s going hunting. Part of me wants to say a prayer for Jackson, the rest of me hopes Cliff kills him.

“Watch his back.” I tell Jake, who nods and chases Cliff.

I turn and look up, over my shoulder, toward my bedroom window. If Jackson shows up here to hurt Camille, I’ll fucking kill him.

Chapter Thirteen

Camille

 

 

I blink, looking into the billions of motes of dust that glitter like gold flakes on the rays of the morning sun. Beyond the light, the windows are open, letting in the chilly morning air as I sit up and try to remember where the hell I am and how I got here.

It comes back in bits as I sit up.

The little red dress…

I look down.

I’m naked. No red dress. Not a single speck of clothing. Looking over my shoulder, I see I’m alone. There’s no imprint on the other side of the bed that might leave the impression that I wasn’t alone last night. No, it looks like I slept in the middle of the bed all by myself.

But I don’t remember taking off the dress.

What do I remember?

Jackson dumping me.

Attacking me.

Dakin protecting me; pummeling Jackson to a pulp.

My cheeks sting red as I feel my thighs slide together and remember touching myself. Looking into the blinding sunshine again, I realize that I should be in class right now. I bet I’m way late, I might miss it again.

But I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not fucking perfect. I’m not a prude ice queen. Last night, I’d drank. I danced on a table. Dakin fuckin’ Dark carried me up to his bed like a damned cave man.

Sure, he didn’t fuck me, but he’d stepped up to bat and protected me when I needed him to. He also helped a host of other women who’d been preyed on by Jackson. He’d been a damned hero. And he hadn’t even fucked me when I’d pretty much begged him to.

I think I need to admit he’s not the monster I thought he was. Maybe he is in other ways, but the rumors I’d heard – and believed – were clearly exaggerated.

But it doesn’t distract from his charm, oh no, it only adds to it. Where he’d seemed like a good person to sleep with last night, now he seems like the perfect guy. He won’t be sappy or romantic. He won’t be clingy and weird. He’ll just love me and leave me.

He’s perfectly imperfect.

And I’d be lying if I said I’m glad I woke up alone. I want nothing more than to be beside him right now, sharing a few kisses and sneaking off to enjoy my walk of shame all the way home. Let people judge me. I’m not ashamed to be so wholly womanly and sexual.

I’m a damned goddess. Let people come at me, judge me, and pretend they know me. They’ve got no fucking clue and I don’t give a damn what idiots think about me.

Glancing back at the bed, I find myself wishing again that he was there.

As if answering my thoughts, the door opens and Dakin walks in, a tray in his hands. He flashes me a devilish grin and I feel suddenly shy.

“Where are my clothes?” I ask, my voice sounding much more playful than I feel. And when Dakin hits me with a stare that’s all heat and need, I’m speechless.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the preface making me a bit nervous, “I worried about how tight it was.”

“You undressed me?” I ask, my heart thumping as my mouth suddenly feels dry as a desert stone. He places the tray of food across my lap and I’m stunned by the beautiful simplicity of it.

There’s a plate with fluffy scrambled eggs, toast with what looks like honey, and several strips of crispy bacon – a total win for him since limp bacon is the only thing that makes me iffy on bacon – a side bowl has hash browns, another holds strawberries and blueberries, and there’s a glass of milk and one of ice water with lemon in it. And to complete the whole thing, a simple white vase holds a single yellow rose.

“Wow,” I breathe, needing to thank him even as I want to demand answers about his undressing me. Did he touch me? Did he stare at me and think about how much he wanted me? “Thank you,” I say as he sits down on the edge of the bed beside me.

“I was a gentleman,” he says, his blue eyes arresting me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It’s like I can’t even breathe. All I can do is focus on him and the words leaving his lips. “But it took every ounce of self-control I have. Don’t expect it again.”

His words send a shiver through me as his mesmerizing eyes pull me right into whatever he wishes of me. I’d do anything he wanted. Everything he wanted. All he’d have to do is suggest it right now and I’d be sunk.

“Now eat,” he says, taking a bottle from his pocket. “For the headache.” He places two of them on the tray and I take them, hating the nagging pain thumping under my temples. It’s just a tiny pinprick of pain, but I don’t want it becoming a full-fledged migraine, so it’s better to nip it in the bud.

“You’re not slipping me E, are you?” I joke.

“I’m not supplying you any more than I already have,” he says, but there’s another side to his words. “But if you do something like that, please stay with someone you trust.”

The words slip from my lips before I can stop them. “Like you?”

Again, he fixes that stare on my face that sends my heart into double time. “Don’t trust me,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “That’s a mistake.”

But I know better. He talks a tough game, but he’s a good guy under it all. There’s no coming back from what he’s done already.

“Help me eat all of this,” I say, picking up a piece of toast. I take a bite, hoping it’ll help calm the ache in my belly. The crystalline honey is delicious on the otherwise dry toast, and I close my eyes and savor it. “This is perfect,” I say on a sigh.

When I open my eyes, Dakin is watching me. His hand moves toward my face and the pad of his thumb touches the corner of my lips. Then he leans in and his lips close on the spot he’d touched. I feel his tongue, warm and silken, and turn into him.

His hand cups my cheek and I press my lips to his, needing him to kiss me. I’ve needed him since last night. His tongue traces my lower lip and I open to him. Our tongues meet and I feel him stiffen before he breaks off and backs up a bit.

I grab his wrist and he turns to me. “Please stay,” I beg, shame not even a concern in my mind.

Chapter Fourteen

Dakin

 

 

Her fingers are soft on my wrist, but her eyes hold me like shackles. She’s so sweet and soft, so perfect, it’s destroying me. I nod, swallowing hard. This is stupid. I’ve only got so much self-control.

And knowing she’s naked right here, under my sheets, on my bed, is enough to kill me.

Her fingers release me and I watch her pick up the toast and take another bite. Once more, her eyes drift closed as if she’s exploring every nuance of flavor. And once again, I find myself wondering if she’d have the same expression if I tasted her sweet pussy.

Fuck. I’m rock hard and this is torture.

I settle next to her on the bed and put my hands under my head. Overhead, fat, fluffy clouds drift by. Last night, she’d been right here, looking up at the stars, touching herself and moaning my name.

“So what are your plans for the day?” she asks, and I find myself grateful for the diversion.

“Taking care of you,” I say, surprising myself. It’s true, though. Either I’m watching out for her here, or I’m keeping her safe after she leaves. With Jackson on the run, I’m not sure I want to risk not keeping eyes on her. If he hurts her, I’ll never forgive myself. “Do you have class today?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I do, but I’m not going.” She sets the toast down and takes a drink of the milk before looking over at me. Her eyes are a mixture of sadness and strength that moves my very soul. “I’ve only ever done what people tell me to do. I’m in college because my parents wanted me to be. I’m not doing it for me.”

I nod. “So what do you want to do?” I ask, curious if she’s made any plans.

She hesitates, and I know she’s thinking before she responds. “I’m not sure,” she says, her honesty heartbreaking. “Is there supposed to be some eureka moment? Some second I know exactly what to do?” she asks, all seriousness and worry.

I’ve heard this before, though. “I don’t think so. I think we’re conditioned to do what we think is right. Get a good job. Go to college.” I stop talking and tuck a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ear before continuing.

“We’re children being told to pick one thing and do that thing, though we know now, as adults, that we change day by day.” I smile at the irony of it all. “And what seemed perfect even a month ago might be torture now.” I nod at her as she blinks at my words. “Like you’re learning.”

“You’re right,” she says. “But how do I know what I want to do?”

I can’t help but smile. “That’s the million dollar question, love. Not I, nor anyone else in your life, can answer that for you.”

Her eyes meet mine around another bite of toast. She chews in silence for a moment. “How did you know what you wanted?” she asks finally.

Her honesty is refreshing. I’ve never had someone just… ask. People assume. They draw their own conclusions with the precious little information they have. And they’re often wrong.

“I do what I must for the family business. But my hobbies are where I find fun.” I can’t help but smile and she arches an eyebrow at me in a clear question.

“You have hobbies?” she asks, humor coloring her tone.

“Oh, you’re cute,” I tease, and she grins. The sudden brilliance of it steals the breath right from my lungs and I freeze.

But she’s not done. “So really, what hobbies?” she asks, finishing her piece of toast while watching me.

“Rock climbing.” I watch her face shift. She’s curious, not judging.

“Isn’t that scary?” she asks, and I shrug.

“I’ve got a solid team. They’ve saved my ass before, and I’ve done the same for them.” And that trust extends to every aspect of life. And I find myself wondering if Camille has ever trusted someone that much. Has she ever put her life in someone’s hands and trusted them with it?

“Like you did for me, last night,” she whispers, but I shake my head.

“I didn’t do anything,” I say, needing her to not trust me like that over what transpired last night. I’d failed her. I was the reason Jackson was there. I was the one who stepped out of the room and gave him the opportunity to attack her. I hadn’t saved her, I’d failed her.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says softly and I look at her, wondering how she could have possibly known what I was thinking. “It’s all over your face,” she says gently and I rein in my emotions. But she’s done being serious. I sense the shift and it’s a relief.

“So, Mr. Dark, you’ve broken your own policy,” she says, mischief in her pretty eyes as she pops a blueberry in her mouth.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I say with as much threatening anger as I can muster. She’s not cowed though, and shakes her head at me.

“Breakfast, taking a girl to your room, taking her clothes off and hiding them…” she trails off and I’m quick to explain.

“It’s in the wash,” I tell her and she nods like she’s humoring me. And I realize I forgot the second half of the things I was planning to give her at breakfast. I’m out of bed before she can stop me and I tell her I’ll be back in one second. There’s panic in her face that quickly dissipates with my words.

I duck out the door and grab the bag. When I bring it back in, she’s startled and I drop it next to her. She peeks in, then looks up at me, her eyes wide. “For me?” she asks, and I nod.

“I’m not just going to leave you naked, and I don’t think you could wear any of my clothes,” I tease. But she starts shaking her head. “Don’t you start on me,” I tease, “I’ll do as I damn well please in my own home.”

To my surprise, her eyes fill with tears and guilt crushes me.

Chapter Fifteen

Camille

 

 

Tears sting in my eyes as I peek into the bag and look over at him. There’s something akin to panic in his expression.

It’s too much. Too nice. He’d thoughtfully made sure to take the sting out of the walk of shame for me. Even though it’s not exactly a walk of shame since I’d not actually slept with him.

Not that I was worried about it. Part of the whole experience was feeling every ounce of the way society had told me I would.

“What’s all this, then?” he asks, his fingers quick to find my face in a sweet way that leaves me feeling warm and cared for. It’s… odd.

“I didn’t expect this is all,” I say, unable to explain the depths of feelings in my soul. He isn’t what I expected, but I’m far from disappointed.

He releases me and rises to his feet. “I’ll let you get dressed.” The door closes behind him and I wonder why he was so quick to leave. Maybe I make him uncomfortable. Somehow, I’m sure he’s got some perplexing emotions tied up in this weird… whatever it is I feel sparking between us.

I wonder if I made things weird for him last night. Or if he’s feeling awkward about pushing me away. Amber tends to get even with guys who push her away and make her feel bad. But I’m not really like her. Not that way, at least.

Amber.

I glance toward the nightstand where I’d left my phone. It’s there, of course. I pick it up, but it’s dead. Glancing toward the door, I wonder if he has a charger that would work for it. So I dig in the bag and find a cute little sundress that’s perfect.

I’ll be going braless, but that’s fine.

The little dress is a pale yellow that actually compliments my pale skin. It’s much more modest than the red number I’d been wearing last night, but it’s super cute. At the bottom of the bag, I find a pair of little footie stockings and ballet flats and slip them on. It’s amazingly elegant, considering I’m totally without underwear.

Taking another bite of the food he’d brought, I hurry to the door and pull it open, feeling playful. He’s outside, leaning on the railing that overlooks the main living room below. He turns to face me and the flash of heat in his eyes as he takes me in is unmistakable.

And I can’t help but stoke the fire. I step before him and swing the door open wide. Looking down at myself, I finger the hem of the skirt that hangs to just above my knees.

“Can you tell I’m naked underneath?” I ask in a soft voice that’s a mixture of secretive and suggestive. I’m proud of the sheer sexual prowess in my words, and the way his eyes narrow tell me I’m treading a very fine line between safety and danger.

When he doesn’t respond, I ask him if he’s got a charger I can use for my phone.

He breezes past me into the room and I follow. In the second drawer of the nightstand, he pulls several neatly wrapped and tied cords. He’s quick to fit one to my phone and plugs it in before putting the others away.

“I didn’t want to snoop,” I say, feeling silly that the cords were right there and I didn’t just find them. It wouldn’t have felt right to just paw through his things; it hadn’t even occurred to me that it might be an option.

“I appreciate that,” he says, tossing a dark glance my way that makes my heart pound in my chest. How he does that - make my heart threaten to quit – is a mystery. One I’d like to think about, to ponder, to figure out and find a way to inoculate against.

“But I wouldn’t have held it against you if you had,” he follows up with, and I smile right back at him.

“You’re not what I expected, Mr. Dark,” I say, my formal words more playful than serious.

He turns to face me, leaning back against the wall beside the nightstand. With his arms crossed and an expression of total contemplation, he studies me. “What did you expect?” he asks, his tone deadpan.

I walk right up to him, not intimidated by his stance. Standing toe to toe with him, I notice the way the sunlight hits his eyes and lights them up like a shallow pool on a brilliant day. With my arms clasped behind my back, I lean into him, careful not to touch him, and speak only inches from his face.

“I expected someone who was full of himself,” I say, watching the way his pupils dilate with my proximity.

“Oh, I am,” he says, his eyes following me as I shift a bit to the right.

“Someone who would do anything to sleep with a girl,” I continue like he hadn’t said anything.

“Oh, I would,” he responds, still watching me like I have all the answers.

But I’m not done. “Someone who’d look the other way while a bro got what he wanted from me.” I know I’ve said the wrong thing as everything he is swings shut. There’s no outward emotion, but I see him close up like he’ll never speak to me again.

“I would have,” he says, but I don’t believe him for a second.

“Then why didn’t you?” The accusation leaves my lips and I see him respond. It’s a tiny response, a slight narrowing of his eyes, a tightening of his crossed arms.

But he says nothing. Beside us, I see my phone power on and I pick it up. And text after text rolls in, leaving my blood running like ice water in my veins.

Jackson.

Over and over and over again.

I’m so sorry.

I screwed up.

Baby, I can’t live without you.

I love you.

Answer your phone, Camille.

Camille, it’s important.

Damn it, answer me.

What the fuck did you tell that asshole?

Are you fucking him?

You whore!

My eyes blur as the messages become more and more cruel, more vulgar, and more insane until he promises that everyone I love will suffer.

And the final text.

If I can’t have you, no one can.

Chapter Sixteen

Dakin

 

 

She’s upset. I can see it in the way she tenses up. Goose bumps pepper her skin and I want to pull her into my arms and promise her she’ll be alright. Even though her comment about how she’d thought I was the kind of guy who’d stand by while someone raped her stings, I’m not going to be petty and deny her comfort while she’s clearly trembling with emotion.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She looks up at me as if stunned I’m here and she’s not alone. There’s an instant denial in her features, but I know she’s terrified. It’s in her eyes. It’s in the pout on her pretty lips. It’s there in every bit of body language.

So I move beyond words and pull her into a hug. She clings to me like I’m the only solid thing in her crumbling world. She’s warm and sweet, soft and delicate, yet stronger than I think anyone in her life has ever given her credit for.

Whatever happens to her in life, I’m sure she’ll give better than she gets.

There’s no need to push her right now. When she wants to talk, she will. But I have no doubt about what’s troubling her. Jackson is an asshole. And like an addiction, he’ll chip away at her will to be without him. He’ll start sweet, then shift to blaming her for everything, then into making her feel bad. From there, he’ll devolve into light threats and you made me this way bullshit. Finally, he’ll start to really threaten her.

And I have no doubt that overnight she got to sample every step along the way.

Unless it all just hit her at once. If he sent them and her phone was totally dead, which I bet it was, she’ll have gotten all the stages in a flood of sweet to bitter hatred.

I get my answer as her shoulders begin to shake. I feel her tears begin to wet my shirt and rage boils up in me. That asshole is lucky I’m here with her right now. If I wasn’t, he’d be begging me not to kill him right now.

And I’d be ignoring his request.

“What did I do?” she whimpers, sniffing as if to keep from crying.

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” I tell her. It’s true. Jackson is a cancer, and blaming herself is not going to help her in any way. She won’t find answers by turning within for them. “He’s the problem, not you,” I assure her, but she’s resisting me at every turn.

“How do you know that? I’m the prude, the ice queen. I was the problem.”

I pull her back a bit and look into her eyes with every ounce of intensity I can muster. “You were the reason he’s been a total loser to every girl he’s dated?” I ask.

That makes her pause.

But the tears in her eyes are starting to well up higher.

“You can’t blame yourself. You weren’t the issue here. He’s a garbage human being,” I tell her, needing her to see the bigger picture here.

And she nods. “Okay,” she whispers.

“Stay here,” I say softly. Her eyebrows knit together and I know she’s confused. “He won’t dare come here. You’ll be safe,” I elaborate.

“I thought he’d be in jail,” she whispers.

“He should be. There are warrants,” I say, internally cursing my guys for their role in his freedom. Still, I don’t know exactly what happened, so maybe they aren’t to blame. “Somehow he gave people the slip and he’s on the run. They’ll catch him,” I’m quick to assure her. “But while he’s out, you’re welcome to stay here, with me.” She’ll be safe with me. I’d die before letting him hurt her.

She smiles, a genuine, warm, sweet smile that lights up my very soul. “Thank you,” she whispers, a new warmth in her eyes.

But I feel bad. I’d had people ready to tail her, to follow her, to watch out for her. What would she think if I told her that? Would she treat me like some kind of creepy freak who overstepped his boundaries? Because I had. I know I did. I had no right to have anyone do anything like that. Do good intentions outweigh breaking social norms?

Maybe it’s better not to tell her.

For now, I’ll let her go on believing that my only plan is to keep her here where she’d be safe. And I’m not sorry. Not at all. I don’t put it past Jackson to do something really, really stupid.

The guy is an idiot.

“Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?” she asks, and I’m quick to tell her she wouldn’t be.

“Far from it,” I say, “I rather like your company.”

The smile that had faded from her lips returns. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I appreciate that,” I say, playing along. And I realize I like her humor, her wit, how quick she is to tease me and her playful nature. Instead of feeling like I need to push her out the door and change the locks, I find more and more that I don’t want her to go.

Not that I’d tell her that. Or anyone else for that matter.

“Now,” she says, taking a step back from me. “Where were we?” she asks, and I try not to cringe. She was telling me how she thought I would stand by while someone raped her.

“Oh!” she says as if she suddenly remembers. “I was telling you how wrong I was about you.” Once more, she leans into me, pressing that delicious body up against me in a way that makes my cock rock hard and sends my heart thumping in my chest.

Her lips meet mine in a quick kiss.

My hands find her ass and grip the perfect, rounded, soft flesh. Holding her tight to me, I resist the urge to pick her up. While I’m certain she’d wrap her legs around me, I’m painfully aware she’s not wearing panties, as she was so quick to let me know after she’d changed.

It’s going to take everything I have not to push her down on the bed and take her virginity right now. But I’ve got plans for that. Plans that’ll make sure her first time is unforgettable.

Chapter Seventeen

Camille

 

 

The kiss is incredible. Dakin tilts his head a fraction of an inch between kisses as if looking for the perfect angle. But all of them feel perfect to me. He’s so damn sexy. Even with all the fear, all the worry, all the self-doubt crowding and nagging at my brain, I can’t help but feel totally immersed in him.

It’s a welcome distraction.

With his hands on my ass, I feel his hardness pressing into my belly, and I want to feel more. I want to feel his skin on mine, his cock pressed to the sensitive vee between my thighs. I want to feel everything.

His lips leave mine to sample my chin, the line of my jaw, the curve of my cheek and ear. Every spot he touches is warm, tingling, a pressure point of pleasure even as the rough stubble of his cheeks burns against my skin.

As he gently takes the skin below my ear between his teeth, I have to tell him the truth. My hips tilt into him as I sling to his shoulders like he’s the only safe place on a rough sea.

“I touched myself last night,” I whisper, my words sounding naughty to the extreme. My heart thunders in my chest and I struggle to draw in a deep breath. “I was imagining you.” I want to tell him what I was imagining him doing.

“I know.”

Those two words from his lips send my whole body into state of total shock. Nerve endings blaze white-hot and a combustion of icy fire in my chest leaves me feeling like I’m both on fire and frozen all at once.

His lips leave my skin and his teeth scrape the damp skin. A shiver rolls through me and I feel his thigh part my legs. His hands pull me forward a bit and the pressure focused on my clit forces a gasp out of me. It’s pleasure, exciting and so damn naughty I can hardly breathe.

He’s treating me like a woman, not some delicate damned terrified virgin.

“Did you watch?” I ask, feeling deliciously wicked that he’d seen me touching myself. Did he touch himself too?

“No.” He’s gruff, all power and spice, and I want every bit of him. The rich, earthy scent of his skin, the heat of his cologne, the freshness of his laundry detergent… it’s all mouthwateringly him.

“I wish you had,” I whisper, meaning every word. Hell, I wish he’d have joined.

“What did you want me to do to you?” he asks, and everything in me cries out. His lips tease the sensitive skin of the lobe of my ear and I tremble as my belly coils tight.

“I wanted you to taste my pussy,” I whisper, not a shy bone in my body. And I feel him stiffen. His cock pulses against my belly and I realize he’s turned on by the idea of licking me. “I want to feel your tongue on me, your lips; I want to come while you touch me.”

Suddenly, he moves me back. I cry out as the world shifts and I find myself on my back on the bed. Out of the skylight, I see a beautiful blue sky, but I’m much more interested in Dakin. Lifting my head, I see him drop to his knees at the end of the bed.

His hands grab my ass and suddenly, I know.

He hauls me closer and his lips touch the skin just above my pubic bone. The contact is warm, soft, and wonderful.

I melt as he kisses closer to the heart of me. But I’m not going to sit idly by. I reach down and part the skin to show him the part I really want his lips on: my clit. With a quiet growl, he’s on me, his lips sealing around my clit as he sucks it gently into his mouth.

The world combusts in pleasure and sensation. My head falls back and my body goes limp. “Just like that,” I whisper, needing him to know how he’s destroying me.

An agreeable hum emanates from him and the vibration makes my belly jolt in pleasure and surprise.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, the three words becoming one as my hands find the sides of his head and hold him captive. His tongue teases the bundle of nerves and I feel faint.

“That’s so good,” I tell him as his tongue tastes and teases. It’s better than I thought it would be, and part of me is still in shocked denial that Dakin Dark is going down on me right now.

Again, he hums a positive response and the sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure bolting through every inch of my body. It’s impossible, incredibly sexy, too much to even put words to. But my body has its own response and I’m there at the edge of undeniable pleasure. I’m teetering on the edge of everything Dakin is doing to me.

“I’m so close,” I whimper as my hips struggle to buck up into him. But he’s holding me hostage and I feel him easing off just a bit, as if to torture.

“Please, please, please,” I pant, needing him to finish me. The tightness in my belly is almost too much to stand, and I want more.

A haze of desperation settles in on my senses and I hold his head, my hips still struggling to force him to let me come. But he’s holding firm, drawing out the torture, and it only increases the need I feel.

Suddenly, everything implodes and I hear the whimper leave my lips like I’m dying. And maybe I am. Or part of me is. The part of me who’d never felt this before, who’d never been brought to orgasm by someone else.

My pussy clenches so hard it hurts and his tongue eases up and he hums like he’s talking me down from a ledge. The ripples of pleasure steal the air from my lungs and I’m all volume and mews of pleasure as my body struggles to take in all the excitement.

It’s more intense than any orgasm I’ve given myself, and it’s stronger than I’d ever thought possible. And at the heart of it all: Dakin.

His blue eyes meet mine and the whole world stops.

Chapter Eighteen

Dakin

 

 

Fuck, she’s sexy as hell when she comes.

Reality crashes down as the pleasure in her eyes begins to fade and she drops back to melt into the bed.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have done that.

Damn it.

I back off, struggling at the very real – and intense – need pulsing though me. But she’s not done with me. She lifts her head, her sexy eyes dreamy as she opens her arms to me.

“Come here,” she says, a new warmth in her voice.

And I do. I crawl onto the bed and let her pull me in close. Her lips meet mine despite her wet clinging to my chin and her tongue lazily meets mine.

“I want you,” she whispers when I don’t respond to her kiss. Her eyes open and meet mine, and I’m startled by the depth of heat I see there. And when her tongue flicks out and touches my lip, I feel a sudden heat in my gut. Fuck, I want her too. But I know who I am. What I am. I don’t want to hurt her.

“I use women, Camille.” My words are harsh. I need to put distance between us. And fast. I know the look in her eyes. She’s willing to forgive me for any wrong I might commit. Or might have already committed. Like invading her personal life. Like controlling a situation to get the outcome I wanted.

Her eyes narrow, as if she’s trying to figure out why I’m telling her this. “Nobody is perfect, Dakin.” Her words are sweet, her tone clear and gentle. Forgiving.

“I’ll only use you too,” I say, but she shakes her head.

“You can’t use the willing,” she teases, her voice lighthearted as she continues to stare me directly in the eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she asks, her brows meeting over a wrinkle in her forehead. I want to kiss the spot, but I resist the urge.

But I know what I’m doing. I’m pushing her away. I’m helping her. I’m saving her from the monster I really am. I have to protect her from myself.

No matter how much I’ll hate myself for it later.

“Women don’t stay the night,” I say, and there’s flash of hurt in her eyes. “The only reason you did was because I didn’t want to be responsible for a drunk minor.”

“I’m not a minor,” she says, her expression suddenly more wary. Good. She’s starting to be on edge. That’s what I needed.

And I ignore her response. “I had someone ready to follow you if you left today.” It sounds like a threat, and I know my true intentions are in there, but maybe she won’t see them. Maybe she’ll see me for the creep others have thought me to be.

“Why?” The simple question breaks my heart. She wants to believe I’m a good person. She wants me to be the good guy in this story. But for her sake, I can’t be.

“I don’t respect boundaries,” I tell her. It’s true. I’m not a good guy for her. And sure, I’ll admit I’m scared. I don’t want the responsibly of the pain she’s going to feel when she realizes that I’ve betrayed her. I want her to be on guard against me.

“Some boundaries are stupid,” she says, still trying in vain to talk around me. But she’s chipping around the edges.

“I don’t give a fuck if what I’m doing is okay or not.” That’s it. That’s the whole root of the issue. I’m selfish. I don’t give a fuck how other people feel. I don’t care if people get hurt. I just need to be able to sleep at the end of the night.

And I generally do.

The girls I sleep with know what they’re getting into, who I am. I don’t lie or trick them. But Camille, she’s different. She’s vulnerable. She’s a virgin who doesn’t understand that the first time will have an effect on her psyche. And I can’t be the one who she attaches to because of it.

“Bullshit.” Her word is soft, yet there’s steel behind it. “If that was true,” she says, her eyes slashing back and forth between mine, “you’d have fucked me last night.”

“I wasn’t interested,” I growl, and instantly the hurt in her eyes sends agony like a bullet through my heart. “You were drunk and disgusting.”

Her lips part a little and shock crosses those beautiful features. But the shock totally gives way to hurt.

“You’re lying,” she whispers, but I shake my head. There’s no going back. I’m going to push her away and I’m going to make sure she won’t come back.

Still, the hurt clears and her fingers reach out to touch my cheek. “You’re not a monster,” she says, her tone full of wonder as if she’s realizing it for the first time herself. “But you’ve done a great job of convincing people.” Her eyes meet mine and her lips take on a little pout.

But she’s wrong. Just because she’s seen a different side of me than other people have doesn’t mean she’s totally right. Just because I’m not the same with her doesn’t change who I really am at my core.

She lifts her head and her lips touch mine. The kiss is tender, sweet, and as much as I want to push her away, I just can’t bring myself to do it. With every touch she’s undoing knots I’ve tied for many years. She’s refusing to believe me; to listen to the things she doesn’t want to hear.

I push her away, but she’s playful and tries to come back up even as I keep my hand on her chest and hold her down. “You’re wrong about me,” I tell her, studying her eyes as the humor leaves them.

And as she struggles, I see her hope beginning to fade a bit too. I let her go and stand up, needing to put some distance between us.

Chapter Nineteen

Camille

 

 

Dakin holding me down was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, but while he’s over there across the room like I’m some mutant he needs to be far away from, there’s still an undeniable draw between us.

Something between us crackles and pops, and I’m not about to ignore it.

“You said you had someone ready to follow me,” I say, seeing how he’s staring me down. “Was it because you knew that Jackson was out there?” I mean, come on. He’s doing it to protect me. How can he try to use it as a reason he’s a bad guy?

It’s even clear that he’d keep it from me to keep me from stressing out about all if it.

And, when he doesn’t respond, I suddenly get it. He’s not pushing me away just for the sake of it, he feels guilty. I get to my feet and walk over to him with all the composure I can muster. He stays frozen in place and I pull him into a hug.

“I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me,” I whisper, needing him to know I’m not blaming him. I’m not even mad. I wish he’d handle this with more grace, but I get that he’s human too. He’s allowed to screw up. “But I understand why you didn’t.”

He didn’t do it to hurt me. He did it out of a twisted idea of protecting me. As for the rest of his need to push me away, I assume it’s all part of the same issue. He wants to push me away. Likely to protect me.

But I’m a big girl; I can protect myself.

As I rise up on tiptoe, I kiss his cheek and wrap my arms around his neck. He’s all sinew and steel, unyielding, but I know he’s softening even as I expect him to close up. “It’s okay,” I tell him, but he pushes me away.

“I don’t want this,” he says simply, and I sense he’s telling me the whole truth now.

“Don’t want what?” I ask, curious about what’s going through his mind. What isn’t he telling me?

There’s ice in his blue eyes as he fixes me with that serious stare once more. “You.”

It stings and I falter back a step like he’d shot me through the heart. Everything in me screams that it’s a lie, that he’s just pushing me away. Maybe what I feel between us is what he feels too. Maybe it’s scary for him. I know it is for me.

But how far should I push? How much do I demand he tell me the truth, that I tell him it’s okay to keep hurting me in an attempt to protect me? While I’ll forgive him for doing what he thinks is right, I’m not a damned punching bag either.

I back off him and sit on the end of the bed to address the thoughts swirling through my mind. It’s important to me to handle this situation with grace and humor. Getting mad and bringing all of it to a boil won’t help anything.

“Okay,” I say simply, even though it kills me to agree. “Then I’ll stop.” There’s relief in his eyes, and I almost feel bad for him. “But first,” I say, and the wary expression that creeps over his features is satisfying. “I want you to give me a good reason why. Not just that you don’t want to. A reason that feels legitimate.”

I hold up a hand to silence the first answer that he’s about to throw out between us. “And I want you to think about it.” I look at him from under my lashes. “Because I know you don’t think I’m drunk and disgusting after what we just did.” I glance over at the bed, my cheeks stinging as I think about how he’d brought me to orgasm with his lips.

Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I push forward. “No BS about using me.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes at that one. “I’m a big enough girl to decide if you’re all wrong for me, so don’t try to protect me from yourself. I can make that call.”

He suddenly looks like someone let the air out of him. His shoulders slouch a bit and his features relax. It’s all the proof I need to know that that’s exactly what he was doing. “I’m not stupid,” I say, my voice suddenly shy. “I’m a virgin, not an idiot.”

There’s a sense of victory washing over me as if this is a test of adulthood that I’m passing with flying colors. I’ve seen Amber have blowouts with the guys she’s with, and I promised myself I’d never be like that. I’m not going to scream, shout, and destroy love and trust for the sake of arguing. I’m not saying I’ll never lose my temper, I’m just saying I’d rather do my best to approach everything like this.

Calm.

Clear headed.

I smile at him, a small, shy smile designed to put him at ease. “First, I need to use the bathroom.” I’m on my feet and out the door before he can stop me. Two doors down, I find the open bathroom door and slip in. With a wistful glance at the beautiful glass shower box and the garden tub, I struggle to remind myself that I’m having a conversation.

But I’ll remember to ask him if he’d mind if I take a bath. That sounds heavenly right now.

I wash my hands and look at my face. There’s no sign of my drinking. No change that shows I got a bit naughty. I look the same as I did yesterday. The makeup I’d been wearing looks like I’d washed it off last night. My skin is clear, and I just look like me.

Maybe it shouldn’t be weird, but it is. There’s no proof outwardly that anything has changed, but when I really think about it, everything has changed.

Chapter Twenty

Dakin

 

 

I stare at the door, feeling utterly shocked to my core. Not only is she the most levelheaded woman I’ve ever met, she’s got the patience of a saint.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

Maybe words won’t be enough. Maybe I need to scare her. Really put some fear into her that will settle any doubt she has that I’m some white knight who’s going to save her or protect her.

Hell, I’ll never forgive myself for it, but she’s not backing down.

Firing myself up, I try to figure out how to tear her down and destroy her in a way she’ll be able to recover from while hating me as a product. No part of me wants to actually hurt her, but I’ve got two choices. Either I hurt her now before she’s any deeper vested, or I hurt her later after she’s fallen in love with me.

Or worse, after I’ve fallen in love with her.

Is that the crux of it all? Am I doing this for her? Or for myself? Am I worried about hurting her or being hurt? Because she’s nothing if not ready for everything. She’s proven to be more adult and levelheaded than even I have been up until now.

The door opens and I glance over at her. Her cheeks are still pink as if walking in here has reminded her of what I’d done to her on my bed. “I love that tub,” she says, her voice still holding that shy undertone.

She’s a walking contradiction of power and vulnerability, harmony and fire, submissive and firm. It’s a saccharine mixture I want to explore. I want to discover her. And as she sits on the edge of my bed as if aware she might need to bolt at any moment, I struggle to keep myself under control.

It feels like with every second that ticks by, so does my self-control.

She lifts her head, her chin rising like she’s silently challenging me to battle. I see it in her eyes, in her features, in the subtle set of her eyebrows.

“So,” she says, her eyes locked on mine. “What’s your reason?”

I don’t answer. Every muscle in my body tightens like I’m ready to spring. I feel my hands begin to shake and I know I need to walk away. I need to step out. I need to get my thoughts in order before I lose control.

Never has anyone pushed me like this. Never has a woman so calmly pushed me to my limits and demanded answers for the things I’d said.

Anger suddenly flashes in me and I stalk up to her. She shrinks away and I feel more than a hint of satisfaction at her fear. I fucking told her that I’m not a white knight. I’m not here to protect her. I’m the one she needs protection against.

I push her back and pin her down. My lips claim hers. I’m demanding she surrender and she does. Still, I’m rough enough to leave bruises as my tongue seeks hers out. She whimpers into my mouth, but her hips are bucking into me.

Fuck, I need to bury myself in her.

I release her lips to sink my teeth into the soft skin of her neck. She cries out as the skin flowers red under my mouth. Still, some part of her is moving with me, working with me. Her hips are working against me like crazy and I sense she’s getting off on this.

It’s incredible.

My hand finds her throat and I hold tight as she grabs my hand. But she’s not struggling against me, she’s holding me in place. My lips touch the skin between her breasts and I want more. Grabbing the dress, I wrench it down. The sound of buttons scattering is dull to my ears as her perfect, luscious tits pop free of the yellow material and rock with the violence of the motion.

With a hungry growl, I pull one of her already tight nipples into my mouth. She’s sweet, soft, and as I look up at her, she’s lost. Her lips are red, her cheeks flushed, and there’s an excitement sparkling in her eyes.

But not fear.

Why not fear?

My fingers on her throat are tight, but not so much that she can’t breathe. And she’s not struggling. No she’s moving with me, but not fighting. Why not? She can’t possibly like it rough like this.

I like it rough. I like the struggle, the fight of two bodies coming together in explosive, hot, demanding sex. She whimpers, the sound all sexy excitement, and I have my answer. This isn’t helping my argument, it’s hurting it.

I release her nipple with a responding pop and take the other. My teeth tease and my cock pulses between her legs. She’s still trying to rub on me, and her heat sinks through my clothing and feels like heaven.

Fuck, she’s going to destroy me.

I jerk back and hear her suck in a deep breath. But she’s not letting me go so easily. She launches herself off the bed and into my arms, her legs winding around my hips. Spinning her with her momentum, I drop her on her back on the bed. We fall in a heap of lips and hands. I kiss her hard while her fingers struggle to free me from my pants.

Grabbing her hands, I pin both her wrists above her head and she whimpers.

“Please,” she gasps, her hips still bucking into me like she’s close and I’m denying her.

As reason slips away, I get ready to fuck her like this. With her dressed, her perfect tits out, her skirt pushed up her hips. With my clothes on, only free enough to ram into her with every throbbing inch I’ve got, ready to make her scream in pain and pleasure.

Some vaguely familiar song plays and she stiffens under me. It takes me a second to realize her phone is ringing. And she’s frozen, taken over by the unmistakable face of sheer terror.

Chapter Twenty-one

Camille

 

 

That ringtone… it’s Jackson calling me right now. While Dakin is over me, fucking rocking my whole world.

He halts, and I sense the extraordinary struggle within him to stop right now. “It’s Jackson,” I whisper and he’s quick to get off me and move around the bed to grab my phone.

“Should I answer it?” I ask, terrified and seeking validation and answers from Dakin. Why would Jackson be calling me? He’d threatened me. He’d threatened everyone I love.

Dakin takes out his own phone and thumbs the screen while handing me mine. “Answer,” he says in a no-nonsense tone and I nod.

Accepting the call, I hit the speaker button, needing Dakin to hear and back me up no matter what happens or what Jackson says.

“Hello?” I ask, hating how innocent I sound. Like I have no idea what’s going on. He’s going to see right through that. And it’s going to piss him off.

“Whore. How long did it take you to let Dark fuck you?” he sounds furious and spiteful. Hell, he sounds unhinged.

Staring at my phone as the seconds tick by, I answer his rude question honestly. “He hasn’t fucked me, Jackson, but that’s none of your damn business. We’re over, remember?” I say all too sweetly as he begins to make sounds that resemble an angry pug snorting. “I can fuck whoever I want.”

“The fuck you can.” His voice is so dark and threatening I feel my hands begin to shake. I set the phone on my lap so I can ball up my fist and try to hide the trembling. “You better not be lying, for your mother’s sake.”

My blood runs ice cold. “What did you do to my mom?” I ask, ready to kill him with my bare hands if he’s hurt her.

“Nothing yet. But what I do to her depends on you.” His voice takes on a calm that’s more terrifying than his anger. I glance up at Dakin who’s furiously texting on his phone.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Jackson says. “You’re going to meet me at the spot. You know which one. If you bring anyone, I’ll fucking kill her.”

“What do you want?” I ask, needing to know why he’s doing this to me. I feel tears threatening on the edge of my vision, and I know I’ll never forgive myself if I cry because of fucking Jackson. I’ve shed enough tears for this asshole. He doesn’t deserve any more of my energy.

But this is my mom he’s threatening. What had I said to her last? That I was off to class? She didn’t even get a chance to see how much I’m letting her down. Pain sears through me and I struggle to keep it together.

“What you owe me,” Jackson snarls. “All you had to do was see how stupid you were being last night. That you fucked up by dumping me. Then we’d have gone back to my place. I’d have fucked you all night long. And you’d be a real woman now. My woman.”

“Nobody owns me,” I say, a feeling of incredulousness bubbling up in me. Does this asshole really think that taking my virginity will make me his slave or whatever? This is nuts. He’s fucking lost it.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says. The only thing more unsettling than the situation is the way he’s talking. He’s so very calm, so very reasonable. Like he’s not delivering lines like how I owe him my virginity. No, he sounds like he’s ordering a burger and a shake. Just a relaxed, calm tone, like it’s no big deal. “I own you. I groomed you. I pushed you until you broke. You were supposed to get mad and show me how much a woman you really are. You were supposed to fuck me.”

“You had this all planned out?” I ask. The more he talks, the more insane it gets.

“Yes!” He’s shouting now. “All you had to do was be fucking normal! Like the others!”

That strikes a nerve. “The others? What others?” I ask.

“I’m the one asking questions!” I hear how loud he’s being, and how angry he is. It’s terrifying. But he knows I’ll do anything to make sure he doesn’t hurt my mom. Even put myself in harm’s way. She shouldn’t pay for my mistakes.

“Okay. I’ll meet you there,” I say, resigning myself. This is how this is happening. No one can save me from this. I have to face this demon. My mom’s very life might depend on it.

The phone goes dead and I know he’s gone.

Looking over at Dakin, I see him studying me. “You have to call the cops.” He’s calm and controlled.

“I can’t,” I say. “I’d never forgive myself if he hurt her.” I wouldn’t. This is all my fault.

“I’ve got someone going by your house,” Dakin says, and I blink at him.

“Are you crazy? What if he’s watching?” I ask, feeling panic bubbling up in my guts.

Dakin shakes his head. “I’m sure he’s wherever you are meeting with him already. But I’m sure he doesn’t have your mom.”

“I can’t risk it.” Does Dakin not get it? None of this is worth my mom’s life. I don’t care about what he’ll do to me, I only care that he’s got her. “If it was your mom, what would you do?” I ask, pleading with him to understand why I’m so scared.

Dakin hesitates.

“See?” I whisper, knowing he gets it now. And I suddenly know I’ve got to plan to ditch Dakin. If he follows me, Jackson will lose it. With my heart pounding in my chest, I stand up. “Okay,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can. “I need to get going.”

“I’m coming,” Dakin says, not taking no for an answer.

“Okay,” I say, a plan forming quickly. “Let me go pee. Then we leave.” I head into the bathroom and open the huge window that’s level with the tub. Outside, the roof to the patio slops toward the ground and I climb out on it.

With careful steps, I ease toward the short end and let myself down on the concrete fence. Squatting down, I drop off the edge into the neighbor’s back yard. Thankful they don’t have dogs, I slip out through their gate.

I know where I’m going. A place I swore never to go back.

Chapter Twenty-two

Dakin

 

 

I knock on the bathroom door, with a sense of dread knotting in my gut. The echo of my knock is enough to warn me she’s not in there. Turning the knob, I open the door and scan the room. It’s empty.

Shit.

Panic settles into my guts like battery acid. Fuck, what did she do? The window is closed, but I’m certain that’s what she must have done. It would have let her into the backyard. Or, more likely, she would have dropped into the Nicks’ backyard.

Rushing down the stairs, I hurry out the front door. In the road, I turn both directions, hoping to catch sight of her on the sidewalk. Nothing.

Sprinting into the neighbor’s yard, I open their gate to see if she’s in their backyard still. Maybe I caught her. Maybe I was quick enough and she didn’t get far. How much distance could she have really gotten in just a few minutes?

The Nicks are on vacation, so seeing anyone back here would be out of place. But there’s no sign of her or anyone else. No one I could even ask questions. Fuck.

Retracing my steps back out to the road, I pace back and forth, wracking my brain for a clue. He hadn’t said where to meet, just that she’d know the spot. I don’t know him well enough to know his creep haunts. Damn it.

She had to have gotten on the road. Lifting my hand to shade myself from the sun, I feel panic tightening my chest. Which way did she go? My heart pounds so hard I feel faint. I pace back and forth again, wondering how I managed to lose her.

And now she’s off to have a face to face meeting with the man who has clearly lost his mind. My sweet, gentle Camille is walking into the arms of a monster. And with the fact that there are witnesses to his previous crimes, he might make sure there isn’t one more to point the finger at him.

As my heart sinks to my toes, I hear my phone chime. Yanking it out of my pocket, I hope against hope that it holds answers.

It’s Cliff. Holy fucking Christ, it’s the one person who can help me. Fuck, finally some good news. Did you lose someone?

Relief. It’s relief I feel flooding my veins. Where did she go? I ask, staring at my phone like it’s some holy relic that can save me.

The white message bubble pops up almost instantly, like he was ready to text before I even asked. Toward Aspen. Then a right on Dovetail Rd.

I fucking owe you. I text like my fingers are on fire. And I mean it.

I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s still around, still watching her like I’d asked. Any sense of guilt I’d had for perhaps wasting his time is washed away.

Jesus, he might have literally helped me save her life. Thanks just doesn’t cut it. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Armed with this new knowledge, I rush into my garage and get in my car. The seconds waiting for the garage door feel like the longest seconds in my whole life.

I back out too quickly and put the car in gear. As I drive the direction Cliff told me to go, I wonder what the hell Camille is thinking. She doesn’t actually believe that he’s got her mom, does she?

In what world would her mother follow a creep like Jackson? I grab my phone to text Cliff.

Was she home? I knew he had someone checking since my first text back when Jackson was still threatening Camille.

Cliff is quick to respond. No answer, no BE.

Well, that’s good. His guy knocked but didn’t break and enter. Still, not answering doesn’t mean she’s with Jackson. She could be in the shower or out getting groceries.

Fuck. I should have put someone on her earlier. Still, I don’t believe Jackson was able to do so much while being tailed by cops. They’re looking for him, he has to know that. Would he really risk showing his face?

Questions without answers fill my mind, but I’m focused as I drive toward the crossroads Cliff told me to go to.

And as I turn, I see her. But, instead of letting her know I’m here, I fall back and let the few cars on the road pass as I park well behind her. Only when she’s turned down the road, do I follow her again, keeping a safe distance. She’s walking with her head down and I know she’s staring at her phone, perhaps texting Jackson.

Doesn’t she know she’s walking right into a trap?

Everything in me wants to jump out of the car, grab her and take her home while I hunt down Jackson and castrate him.

She’d never forgive me if I did, though. So I keep my distance and plan. Once I know where I’m going, I’ll have Cliff sweep the place and I’ll go after Jackson. We’ll take the son of a bitch down.

Chapter Twenty-three

Camille

 

 

I feel like I’m walking to my death. How dare he mess with my mom? She’d never liked him. She told me he gave her the willies. I’d rolled my eyes, of course, since the phrase she’d used was so terrible.

Still, back then, I’d had no idea that Jackson could be such an absolute terror.

I should have listened to her. I should have trusted her when she told me something about him bothered her. She was right. But I’d been so blind, so certain he was fine.

Sure, he bugged me too. His hipster, cooler than you, over inflated sense of self annoyed me. But it hadn’t made him seem dangerous. He didn’t seem like someone who’d attack. I had actually thought he’d calm down and be fun to hang out with.

And he had been, in the beginning.

But over time, he’d become more possessive and more demanding.

My fateful words from last night fill my mind. It’s hard to believe that only a day has separated all the insanity my life has been through. Everything was turned upside down. Now I’ve got the hots for Dakin.

Still, I can’t help but smile at what I’d told him. I hope it still stings. Fuck you, Jackson. Fuck you and your stupid haircut. Fuck you and your hipster bullshit. You’re not sensitive, or deep. You’re just a stupid prick who only wants to get laid.

I cross the railroad tracks, knowing where I’m going. A place he’d brought me once. A place where I’d found myself being kissed by Jackson back when I’d thought he was nice. We’d been sitting side by side on a swing that hung over the river. He’d turned to me and kissed me like I was the only person who existed in his whole world.

I was so stupid.

My phone lights up and I try to tell him again that I’m coming alone. I ditched him. I’m coming alone, I swear.

You better, bitch.

My eyes sting with tears. I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this. Looking both ways, I cross the road and know I’m getting close. This side of town is where things break down. The roads go from pavement to gravel and finally to dirt. The people out here are different, too.

Please don’t hurt her, I text him. I’m never going to sleep again. This is going to fuck with my head forever, I’m sure. Even now, my hands are shaking. Adrenaline is pumping through me and I’m certain I’ll pass out if I even so much as take too deep of a breath.

I’m fired up, exhausted, and terrified, a combustive mixture of emotion that’s fueling me. I wish it had been Dakin. I mean, I’m not an idiot. Virginity is a sham. Sure, I’ve never had a cock inside me, but I’m also not some pure, stupid girl. I doubt Jackson would even know the difference if I’d slept with Dakin last night.

Bloody hell, my life is such a damn mess.

I cross the dirt road and take the little-used path through the tall grasses. The hill is a bit steep, but I’m sure on my feet. I can hear the sound of water rushing, of the wind making the leaves overhead flutter, and the scent of water hits me like a runaway train.

Any other time, this would have been fun. It would have been a good experience. For any other reason it would have been.

“Jackson?” I call out, keeping my voice quiet. The grasses give way to a little clearing at the edge of the river. The water is moving lazily here and I half expect to see a group of teenagers swimming in the deep pool.

But this spot is pretty quiet. It’s not a well-known hang out. Not when down the river a ways there’s a huge spot where it all opens up and rocks let girls bake in the sun and the deep water lets people swim.

“Jackson?” I say a bit louder.

Suddenly, a hand covers my eyes and another covers my mouth. “Don’t make a sound.” Jackson’s whisper scares me and I comply, going limp in his arms. I don’t want him to think I’m going to fight. I don’t want him to hurt me.

“I loved you,” he whispers, and I nod, miserable as he speaks. He never loved me. Love isn’t trying to hurt someone. It’s not cruel. It’s not deception. It’s not everything Jackson has shown me over the last few days.

“If you scream, I’ll kill you,” he whispers. I nod, and he pulls his hand off my mouth slowly, as if ready to clamp back down if I make a sound. When I don’t, he releases my eyes and turns me around.

I see him look me up and down, and hate that I’m wearing this dress. “Lay down,” he says, and I look around.

“Right here?” I whisper, my throat aching as the words pass. He nods and I sit down in the dirt. Looking up at him, I hate him and myself. “Where’s my mom?” I ask, looking around.

“Shut up,” he growls, unbuttoning his pants as he drops to his knees before me. Suddenly, something black circles his neck and he lets out an odd gurgling sound as he’s hauled back. Behind him, I see Dakin, his arms flexing as he holds a strap around Jackson’s throat.

“No!” I scream, jumping to my feet.

Dakin looks at me, his anger shining through as he holds Jackson captive. “Your mother is at home. Call her.”

I pick up the phone and do as he says. Two rings later and my mother comes on the line. “Camille! How are you?”

Tears fill my eyes. “I love you mom,” I say, my hatred aimed at Jackson, “I’ll call you back soon, okay?”

“Is everything alright?” she asks, her voice sounding worried.

“It is now,” I tell her, before telling her again that I love her and hanging up. To my shock, Jackson laughs.

“You didn’t even call her?” he asks, his face red as Dakin tightens the strap. “Dumb bitch,” he chokes out.

Chapter Twenty-four

Dakin

 

 

I want to kill him. With the leather straps tight around my knuckles, I know how easy it would be to put my knee in his back and pull hard enough to really cut off his air and blood flow. I could kill him. I should kill him.

And with the rage in her eyes, I know Camille wouldn’t fault me for it.

“The cops are on their way,” I say to her, needing her to know I’m not going to kill him.

“Thank you,” she whispers. As if in response, I hear Zac and Cliff talking as they walk down the path. Two cops, one Zac, and the other a guy I’ve talked to a handful of times step into view with Cliff a step behind.

Zac takes in the view, and quickly cuffs Jackson. I see them looking over at Camille, then at me. Of course they know. They know that this girl somehow worked under my skin. They know I’m here for her, to help her, to save her. I don’t have to say it, they just know.

Zac looks over at me as I release Jackson and let him into the officer’s care. I nod, knowing he’s wanting to tell me to bring her in for a statement later. I’ll do it. But they’ve got so much on him right now, they’ve got a pattern of abuse from this asshole. He’s going to get locked away. He has to.

I take Camille’s hand. She’s clammy, shaking, and I pull her in close. “It’s okay,” I whisper to her, and she looks up at me. Deep in her blue eyes, there’s an apology and absolute trust. As the officers leave with Jackson between them, I catch Cliff’s glance.

To my surprise, he winks at me before disappearing into the grasses.

“I’m sorry,” Camille whispers, tears spilling down her ashen cheeks. “I should have trusted you, I should have listened.”

“You did what you thought was right,” I tell her as we walk toward the road. “I’ll never fault you for that.” How could I? If it was my mother I thought would be harmed, who would I listen to? No one. I’d just do everything I could to make sure she was safe.

“Can I stay with you?” she whispers, and I nod.

“For as long as you’d like.” To my surprise, I’ve no qualms making that promise. I know she’s not using this as an in to disrupt my life. She wouldn’t ask if she didn’t need it. And I’d never be able to turn her away. She’s a good girl. Perhaps a misguided one with terrible taste in partners, but she’s good at the core. She’s got the best of intentions. She’s willing to accept horrible things to protect the people she loves. How could I not admire her?

I lead her to the car and open the door for her. She sits in the passenger seat and I hurry around to the driver’s seat. “Are you hungry?” I ask as I pull on my seat belt.

“Depends,” she says, some bit of mischief coloring her voice, “are you cooking?”

“I could. Or we could go out.” I see the trembling of her hands and know I need to get her home. “How about we go home and you climb in a bath while I make you something?”

Her blue eyes are appreciative as she turns to me. “I’d like that,” she says, her hand finding mine. Our fingers link as I drive us back toward my house.

Then, it clicks.

How about we go home.

 

***

 

I knock and she lets out a relaxed, “Come in!”

I open the door and find her in the bath, covered by a thick layer of bubbles. I set the tray beside her on the stand I’d brought in just for this purpose. She’s watching me, a curious look in her eyes. “Wash my hair?” she asks once I’ve got everything set up.

“Sure,” I agree. Rolling up my pant legs, I climb up behind her and dangle my legs beside her shoulders in the tub. Taking a bottle of shampoo, I begin to rub it into her scalp with gentle fingers. These fingers almost murdered the fucker who’d attacked her. But I could never hurt her.

She lets out little moans of sheer pleasure as I massage the suds into her hair. The sounds are quite like the moans she’d been making when I’d been licking her sweet pussy.

Fuck.

I can’t think like that right now. She’s been through so much she doesn’t need to deal with me wanting her right now. Still, the sounds she makes are making me rock hard. I’m a fucking bastard. Which has never been a problem before now, but I want to make her feel safe. I don’t want to be the next guy because I’m not the same kind of evil as Jackson. I’m still a fucking asshole, just not also a rapist.

She’s safe here. I can control myself. For now.

“Right there, Dakin,” she says, panting my name in a way that makes me see stars. Maybe I can control myself. Fuck, she’s pushing me.

Taking her hair in my hands, I lower her to rinse her hair. She floats in my hands, total trust in her as she closes her eyes. With my free hand, I gently scoop water close to her head to rinse the suds away. The long tub allows her to fully float free and I know my hand under her head is the only contact she’s got right now.

And I thank fucking heaven I got this tub. I’d expected sex in here, but this… this trust from Camille is sexier than any encounter I’ve ever had. As if she’s reading my mind, she opens her eyes and looks up at me.

“I want you.” The simple words are said with total calm and a warmth I didn’t expect.

Chapter Twenty-five

Camille

 

 

To my surprise, he bends down and kisses me.

I’ve already decided that this bullshit with Jackson isn’t going to ruin me. I want Dakin. In every way possible. And I’m going to see what he’s willing to share with me. This is my fucking life and I’m going to live it the way I want to.

And if that means figuring it out as I go, then I’ll do that.

With Dakin’s hand cradling my head and his lips on mine, I realize this is perfect. I trust him. While I know he’s capable of awful things, I don’t believe he’d do them to me.

With his mouth on mine, I realize I’ve never been kissed like this. Not just the upside down thing – which, if I’m being honest, is a whole new experience on its own – but I mean I’ve never been kissed like this.

He’s both demanding and kind, desperate and subdued. A layered mess of contradictions and hunger that sends my pulse thundering. Parting my lips to allow him full access, I enjoy how his tongue slips into my mouth and seeks out my own.

Swallowed by hot water and silken bubbles, I’m free floating in an ocean with him as my only purchase, with his lips on mine to remind me I’m not alone. But I am, alone here, with him. We’re two people on a planet of billions but he’s the only one who’s within my senses. We’re the only important ones right now.

He pulls back and I hear him murmur, “Sweet Camille.”

But I couldn’t answer if I wanted to.

Still, I’m not about to let him get away right now. I rise up and turn to face him while on my knees. The air is chilly on my wet skin and I know he can see my naked body from head to belly. But I’m not ashamed. I wrap him in a hug, not caring that I’m getting him wet.

Pressing my lips to his, I try to convey that he’s perfect with nothing more than a kiss. The tub begins to drain and he pushes me back to throw a towel around me as I pull him back in. Our lips meet again as if we’d suffocate without each other.

The towel is soft on my skin and I shiver at the slight chill in the air. As if he feels it, he backs off and begins to dry me. I study the intensity behind his eyes as he focuses on my shoulders where he’s patting me with the towel.

“We’re going to do this right,” he says, his breath on my wet lips. The dark promise in the words sends a shiver through me and I nod, unable to answer him. I’m not totally sure what he means, but I’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked.

I stand up and he continues to dry me as the last of the water drains from the bottom of the tub. He wraps me up in the towel and grabs my ass. As if I weigh nothing, he lifts me and I automatically wrap my legs around him.

My lips meet his as excitement thrums in my blood. How does he do this to me? It’s like he’s the spark that ignites my very soul. The kiss deepens as his tongue traces my lower lip with a stunning sweetness that brings tears to my eyes.

But I’m not going to cry. Not with joy, not with sadness.

We’re moving, guided by his intimate knowledge of his home. When he lowers me onto the bed, I feel myself sinking into perfection as his weight comes down and pins me. Heat settles low in my core as tingling excitement dances over my skin.

My hips move with him as if the primal part of me knows exactly what to do. I want him to show me, to teach me, to bring every moment we’ve shared thus far to the highest possible point before we plunge into the abyss of pleasure together.

Fog descends on my senses as I focus in on every point of contact he’s giving me. His hard chest on mine, his hips holding me down, his thighs between my legs, and his hands capturing my wrists and bringing them above my head so I’m totally at his mercy.

And I love it.

“Dear sweet Camille,” he breathes out on a sigh against my chin as he pulls the towel from the front of me. With my body bare before him, he seems to take a moment to back off and admire me. I watch him and when his eyes come back to meet mine, I’m stunned by the desperation in them.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he growls and my heart threatens to pound free of my ribs. His head dips and he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. The burst of pleasure is too much for me and I whimper in pleasure and pain.

Everything he does sends a white hot need rolling through me like thunder and I wonder if this is what it’s supposed to feel like: overwhelming need and pleasure, desperation and excitement. If not, I’m pretty sure I’m about to have an embolism.

But I’d fucking die happy.

His lips leave and he breathes on the nipple, teasing it further. Then he’s peppering me with kisses on my ribs, my belly, my tits, and on every inch of skin he can. It feels like every wall he’d tried to put up between us is dissolving and it’s liberating.

I grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it off him. When his skin touches mine I feel like I’m drowning in pleasure. He’s so warm, like fire, branding me, consuming me.

“I want this,” I whisper as he hesitates. His eyes meet mine and I realize he’s hesitating to keep control, not because he doesn’t want me.

“I want you,” he says, that low growl waking something primal in me. I’m not afraid of him. I want whatever he’s willing to give, and whatever he’ll share with me. His hand leaves my wrist and comes to rest on my chest. The pad of his thumb runs over my hard nipple and I gasp at the sensations.

His lips touch the nipple and he moves to the other side. With a flick of his tongue, he wakes every last nerve in my body and my back arches. A whimper leaves my lips and I know I’m begging him without words to put an end to my misery.

Watching his lips close around my nipple is almost too much and I feel faint as he teases me. Grabbing his shoulders, my fingers dig into his flesh as I try to lift up into his mouth. My belly quivers and I rock my hips, begging for more, more, more.

“Please,” I whine and he stops, looking at me like he’s enjoying my desperation. As I grind on him, hoping, no, praying to relieve some of the pressure pooling deep in my core, I wonder why he’s torturing me.

The tingling in my slick pussy is becoming too much to bear and I wonder why he’s not in a hurry to end this misery. Reaching down, I fumble with his pants. The button comes free and I unzip them before shoving the offending material out of the way.

When I feel skin on skin, my hips begin to buck faster. My back arches and I moan, excited, desperate, and so very ready for him. Can’t he see how much he’s torturing me? How much I want him? How much I need him?

And I find him.

Wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock, I feel shock roll through me like lightning. He’s larger than I expected. My fingers can’t meet around him and I suddenly know why he’s working me up so much.

With the length of his cock between my plump, swollen pussy lips, I begin to rub on him. Blinding dots of pleasure swim before my eyes and I gasp in shock. This is better than I could have imagined. He’s so very hot, so swollen, and he’s throbbing in a way that leaves me breathless.

He reaches down and takes himself away and I whimper that I’d been so close.

“Protection, darling,” he whispers, and I can’t help but be more turned on that he’s being responsible. Still, the wait is killing me and he needs to know that I’m not feeling particularly patient.

“Hurry please,” I whimper, and he smiles and kisses my lips. There’s a new warmth in his eyes, and I lift my head to watch him unroll the condom over his impressive cock. There’s a sensual feeling to it and I drop my head back, impatient. I swear he’s going slowly on purpose, and it’s driving me crazy.

Then his lips meet mine again and I feel the hot tip of him gently sliding between my dripping wet pussy lips. The sensation pulls a moan from me and I realize that this is the last second of my virginity.

I let it go with a sense of good riddance and focus on the amazing man before me.

Chapter Twenty-six

Dakin

 

 

“Look at me,” I growl and her eyes open instantly. She’s so very responsive, it destroys me. Her arms wind around my shoulders and I hold her close. Her lips meet mine and we kiss. Our tongues dance as I gently press into her. My cock throbs, and I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want her right now.

She breaks the kiss and gasps as I push further in. She’s so wet I’m sliding in easily, but I feel her body struggling as I force her to stretch around me. She’s incredible, perfect, and so fucking sexy I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from exploding in her right now.

Jesus, it’s her first time and I’m going to have to fight with everything I am not to come before she does.

“Look at me,” I tell her again. I need to see her response, I need to know she’s okay. And as her blue eyes meet mine, I feel like I’m lost in her. She’s perfection, personified. And as I sink half way into her, I feel her forcing herself to relax. Her eyes start to close and I know she’s drifting off on the pleasure of her body giving way to me, but I’m not ready for her to go yet.

“Stay with me.” There’s nothing kind or sweet to my words. I’m demanding, commanding, absolutely in charge of everything at play here.

And it’s intoxicating.

There’s a buzz of excitement in her eyes as I press home. Buried to the hilt in her warmth, I wrestle with myself not to move too quickly, but to give her body a few minutes to accept me. As it is, I feel like her tightness is trying to push me out, to force me away.

It’s sexy as hell.

I pull back halfway and push home in her again. She gasps in shock and I can’t help but love the look on her face. And I decide to give up a little bit of my control to her. But just a little bit.

I flip and she’s suddenly on top of me. She sits up, shock making her lips a perfect o of surprise. She’s beautiful, gloriously naked and I wonder why I waited. Her hips rock forward and I sense she’s feeling like experimenting.

The sensations are incredible as she tightens around me and strains the limits of her body. And the way her tits bounce is mesmerizing.

“That feels so good,” she whispers on a sigh as she rocks forward again. I take her hands and plant them on either side of my head before grabbing her hips. She stays like that, braced and I move her hips.

“How about that, love?” I whisper as her eyes widen. She nods and begins to move quicker. The friction on her clit has got to be incredible, and her eyes lock on mine as she rides me, unashamed and unabashed.

This is what I wanted for her, to feel like a woman, to be a goddess, to be aware of her sexuality, not shamed of it. It’s a beautiful fucking sight. Reaching up, I touch her breasts, gently tweaking the hard points so she gasps.

Her pussy tightens around me with that first twitch that tells me she’s about to come. I can’t wait to see it. I want to watch her pupils spasm as pleasure crashes over her, and to see her lips move as her body gives way to an orgasm.

She’s rocking harder now, quicker, her body questing for the sensations that are nearing. Some part of her knows, I’m sure, what she’s racing for. And I’m feeling my own pleasure ramping up.

Whimpers leave her lips with every motion, and her nipples are hard under my fingers. I tweak and tease; play and enjoy the weight of them as they bounce. Jesus, she’s fucking perfect.

“Come for me,” I whisper.

“I love the way you feel,” she exclaims and I feel myself growing closer as she speaks.

“You’re so perfect,” I tell her, needing her to know that she’s amazing, that she’s incredible, that I’ll never have enough of her. Fuck, this is exactly what I need: her. Her voice lowers to a mumble, a moan of jargon, begging. I’m not sure what she’s asking or what she’s saying, but she’s so fucking sexy I can’t stop her.

Suddenly, her whole body tenses and the world careens out of control. Her pussy begins to contract around me, to hold and release in an intoxicating manner that’s enough to make the world flash white hot.

“I’m...” she whimpers as she trembles and shudders, her hips still bucking wildly on me as she orgasms all over my pulsing cock. I know I’m teetering on the edge, barely holding it together as she tosses her head back and cries out her pleasure.

And everything explodes.

I feel my balls gathering before pleasure bursts from me in a heat I’d never expected, or never experienced. It’s as if I’ve never done this before and my body is releasing every bit of pent up tension and pressure right now in one orgasm.

“Dakin,” she says, her eyes on me as I come deep within her. She’s talking, but I’m beyond hearing as everything combusts and I pulse with pleasure and shock. The flash bang of pleasure is almost too much as she cries out and clings to me.

When everything comes back into focus, she’s slumped on top of me and I want to hold her. Reaching down, I quickly slide the condom off and shift her so she’s not touching me in a way that might transfer fluids. I need to make sure I don’t accidentally knock her up.

Even now, post orgasm, all I can think about is keeping her safe. She shifts, then moves beside me on the bed, her whole body relaxing into the sheets like there’s nothing left to be awake for.

Which is fine with me.

I’m just going to lay here and hold her, wondering why there’s no need within me to send her on her way. Why am I perfectly content to hold her while she sleeps?

“You’re so incredible,” I murmur into her ear as I move her hair from her face. Her breathing is deep and even, and I want nothing more than to commit every detail of this moment to memory. Her response is to snuggle back into me, her ass wiggling against my cock.

And even now, so soon after, I feel my body stir as if ready for her again. The thud of her pulse in her back seems to be in time with mine and I suddenly realize how tired I am, how relaxed, how warm and comfortable. Everything seems just right as it is, here, with Camille in my bed and the world moving about its business outside.

Epilogue

Camille

 

 

I glance over my shoulder at Dakin in the kitchen. He’s watching me and my heart skips a beat. He’d promised me something special tonight, but first, I have to be a good girl throughout this family barbeque.

It’s not only family, his good friends are also here. Over the last couple of months, I’ve gotten to know the guys. Cliff, who’d been there when the cops took in Jackson, is still quiet but I have the sense he’s watching out for me. Zac, the cop, is serious, calm and quiet, but quick to laugh at whatever joke is made.

Right now, beside me, Shane lifts his glass to me in a show of cheer. “But may we never experience love,” he teases as the guys lift their glasses and my mother-in-law to be rolls her eyes.

“Really?” she asks them as Dakin’s father, a proud and quiet man, lets out a chuckle. My phone chimes and I look down at it, glad to see my mom and dad are going to be here. They’re just running late.

Amber looks over at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I’m glad I finally let her in. She took me dropping out of college and suddenly becoming Dakin’s right hand in stride. As long as things between Dakin and I stay good, she promises she’ll back me up in any way I need.

And, judging by the way she’s eyeballing Jake, I have a feeling she’ll be around a lot more.

“So when are you coming climbing with us?” Brice asks me, and I shrug at him. I’ve yet to go out with them, but mostly because I haven’t been able to get Dakin out of my system. I need him. I crave him. Which makes leaving the house for long periods of time difficult.

Maybe I’ve gone from good girl to total whore, but I’ve made a promise to myself: to make up for lost time, to try everything, and to give my body what it wants. Dakin seems to love it, and I know we’re falling quickly. It’s almost scary how much of a permanent fixture he seems to be in my life now.

I hear my mom call out over the back gate and I stand up to go give her and daddy a hug. “Hi, honey!” Mom says, her arms warm as she holds me tight. Dad jut wraps around us both and I realize that life is good. Better than good: perfect.

Jackson’s in jail, awaiting trial.

Mom is safe and dad’s right there with her. I’ve got friends, brothers in Dakin’s friends, and Amber as the best friend a girl could ask for.

And I’ve got Dakin

I’m fucking lucky.

My parents let me go and Dakin walks up. Dad shakes his hand and mom throws her arms around his shoulders. They love him. Of course they do. How could they not? I love him, even.

Mom asks Dakin how he’s been and Dakin is quick to respond. I watch them getting along and think about how scared I’d been to tell them I’d dropped out of college. Dakin had been by my side then, too.

Once I explained everything, how I felt like I was living my life for everyone else and that I wasn’t happy, they’d whole-heartedly agreed I did the right thing. And they’d promised to stick with me no matter what I decided to do.

We all head back toward the tables. The moms hug and chat, the dads shake and talk sports. It’s idyllic, impossibly good. I feel like the other shoe has to drop. Something has to go wrong; I’m feeling way too happy.

As Dakin catches my eyes, I see him give me a small, private smile that hints at his plans for the night. In a teasing manner, I flick my tongue over my top lip and his eyes narrow. The undertone of sexuality is too much and I feel my nipple hardening under the little dress I’m wearing. I’d decided to go with nothing on under it just to tease him, but it’s turning me on just as much, I think.

Amber walks past me and grabs my hand, breaking me out of the spell of Dakin’s stare. She leads me off toward the pool and I sit in a chair beside her.

“I have a huge crush on Jake,” she whispers, and I nod.

“Well duh,” I tease, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

To my surprise, tears fill her beautiful, hazel eyes. “I don’t think he even notices me,” she whispers and I pull her in for a hug.

“I think you’re wrong,” I tell her, wanting her to know I’ve seen him looking at her when she’s focused on other things.

I grab her hand as people begin to settle around the tables, and the buzz of conversations grow over the distance between us.

“It’ll happen,” I whisper to her as we walk. “But let’s go eat.” Hand in hand, we walk toward the group of people.

“Thank you,” she says softly and I stop beside Jake.

“Can she sit here so she’s across from me?” I ask and he looks up at me in shock, then looks at her with a heat I recognize in his eyes.

“Of course,” he says and she smiles at him and sits down. Once they’re settled, I walk toward the spot I was in before. As I sit, both Cliff and Shane ask me questions.

Dakin breaks in and tells them to back off before I get overwhelmed. He puts a plate before me and I realize I’m starving. I dig in as he takes the seat next to me and quickly answers questions.

“Your potato salad is incredible,” I tell Shannon, my mother-in-law to be. She smiles, a little twinkle in her eyes.

“I’ll give you the recipe,” she says and I feel so very welcome and at ease as Dakin turns to me.

“I love you,” he mouths.

I whisper back, “I love you more.”

Things couldn’t get any better. My life is amazing. I’m not fucking perfect. I’m just me, and I’m happy.

 

 

Dakin

 

 

She has no idea why I set this whole thing up. I’m so in love with her it aches. I stay awake at night long after she’s drifted off to sleep and I stress and worry about the agony I’d feel if she left me. I think about how hard it would be to lose her. To let her go. I would, of course, if she wanted me to, but it would scar me deep in my very soul.

I’m going to ask her to marry me. I’ve got her father’s blessing. I’ve got Grandma’s ring. I’m going to ask her to love me forever right here in front of the people who mean the most to us in this world.

And I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.

Sure, it’s fast, but like the cliché line goes - when you know, you know.

As the conversation around us surges, I listen to my guys talking rocks, to Amber and Jake talking quietly about something that they’re in total agreement on. The way they lean in close warms my heart, and I think I know what’s been eating Jake up lately.

Amber is a beautiful girl, though she could never hold a candle to Camille, and while she’s quick to temper, I feel like she’s a good match for my oldest friend.

I scan the table, glad to see so many people who I care about talking, eating, and enjoying their conversations and lives. Shane and Brice are talking about love and how that crap will never be part of their lives. I have to smile at that, because it’s going to get them when they least expect it. That’s just how it works. And when it gets them, I’ll be right there to rub their faces in it.

Mom smiles at me while talking to Cliff, and dad winks at me. It’s nice to know they’re in on it. Hell, I think everyone knows except Camille.

And it’s nice to know I’m going to surprise her.

She’s been such a surprise to me. She’s smarter than I knew when we talk business, and she’s logical and controlled until we heat up the sheets. Then she’s unrestrained, unabashedly sexy and incredible beyond words. She’s perfect. While I’m sure she doesn’t think so, I know she’s aware of her flaws, but I’m in love with her and know her flaws have made her into the woman I’ve come to care so much for over these last months.

She never ceases to surprise me.

And now, as conversations lull and silence seems to eat into the moment, I decide to get to it. People are waiting. I get out of my chair and turn to Camille. She looks up at me in surprise.

And I get down on one knee and see the tears begin to sparkle in her eyes, along with joy, fear, and something more exciting: love.

“Camille,” I say, glad everyone is listening and silent. “Ever since you walked into my life, you’ve challenged me.” I hear Jake let out a quiet snort and know he’s thinking about how I’d carried Camille upstairs over my shoulder like a damned cave man.

Camille smiles and I know she’s remembering it too.

“You’ve pushed me to be the man you thought I was, even at my worst.” I think about how she’d told me I wasn’t the monster I wanted her to believe I was. She’d been so sweet, so sure, and even when I’d tried to make her realize I wasn’t that good man she thought I was.

“You monster,” she whispers, and there’s a ripple of laugher throughout the table.

I grin, unable to hide my amusement at her humor. It’s one more thing I love about her, how quick she is to laugh at herself, at me, at life.

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, needing her to understand what I mean. “Your imperfection, your flaws, you,” I emphasize, “are perfect for me.”

“Our baggage matches,” she jokes, and I let out a little laugh. How many times we’ve shared that sentiment as we dig into who we are, how broken and fragile, how human and real we are and what changed us every step of the way through our lives. She swears we met by chance, but I’m certain she walked into my life because I needed her.

“You’ve asked me questions no one else thought to, you’ve trusted me, and you’ve challenged me. And I love it. I want you to keep making me think on my toes for the rest of our lives.” I take out the ring and hold it a moment. It’s a beautiful bit of Alexandrite surrounded by tiny diamonds.

Grandpa had given it to my grandma because he said it reminded him of the shift of liking her to loving her over time. Perhaps because the gem itself changes color. In the sunlight, it’s a brilliant blue with vibrant green overtones, but inside the house, under artificial light, it’s a deeply red gem with a hint of raspberry color.

And now, as I offer it to the love of my life, I suddenly understand. The feelings had started deep and over time had lit into a raging inferno of joy and passion that I couldn’t have imagined love could be. It’s better than I’d even imagined.

Camille gives me her hand and whispers yes. I slip the ring on her finger, joy imploding in me as I rise to my feet with her in tow. She throws her arms around me and our lips meet as the people we care about most clap.

With her, I can do anything.

Camille is everything I need, everything I want. For her, I’ll be the best man I can be. Together, we’ll live a flawed, perfectly imperfect life. And it won’t always be easy, but it’ll always be worth it.