Eve
My palms are sweaty. Moving from Cameron’s ginormous master bathroom to his bed, I wipe my hands on my boy shorts, grateful that he has his nose buried in some kind of planner so he doesn’t get wind of my nerves. I’m finally getting something I’ve always wanted, someone whose basic instinct is to protect me. And now that I have it, I want to run like hell in the opposite direction.
If he knew that I let my dad in, allowed him to search my house for money, sat silent while he hurled insults at me until he found my emergency cash, would Cameron still feel protective of me? Or would he see me as he did the first night we met? The girl who plays dumb in order to get a man’s attention? Fuck, is the truth really that far off?
I force my mind to quiet, refusing to ruin any time I have with him by overthinking. His attention on something other than me provides the perfect opportunity to gawk. He’s leaning back against the headboard, shirtless, sheet pulled up to his waist, but low enough to show the muscles of his lower abdomen that form a V, like a runway pointing down with a sign that screams “kiss, lick, and sit here.” My eyes devour every inch of his exposed skin. For a guy with a desk job, he sure as hell has the body of an athlete. I round the side of the bed, taking in his ribcage, and my jaw drops as I get a closer look at his tattoos. From his hip up, his ribs are waves of water, but not done in bright blues, but rather variations of black and gray that decorate the cuts of his muscles.
“Eve?”
My eyes dart to his, which are narrowed on me. “Huh?”
I drop my chin and study the empty spot at his side: big overstuffed pillows, luxurious chocolate brown sheets that I’m sure cost a fortune, and an equally decadent looking comforter. It’s too good: all of it, him, this room, and these sheets. How can I take what I know I’m not worthy of? Shut up, Eve! I’ll never convince him that I’m good enough if I don’t at least act as if I’m good enough.
He pulls back the sheet and I smile, crawling in and—ohhh, yeah. These sheets are amazing, like spun silk and other amazing things that I’ve yet to experience. My head hits the pillow, and a deep moan vibrates from my chest.
“Trying hard to make tonight about you, babe, but you strut in here in those tiny shorts and that damn top, and you’re making it impossible to keep my dick in check.” There’s that tiny lift to his lips, but his eyes are all glare.
My heart beats faster, and butterflies swirl in my belly and head south. “Tonight’s all about me, but um”—I stretch and a yawn falls from my lips—“it’s after midnight, so tonight is technically tomorrow morning.” I nuzzle into the soft down pillow. Damn, I knew I was tired, but this bed is like an instant sleeping pill.
He hits the light, and we’re plunged into darkness. “True, but we’re both beat, and I’ve been wanting this body in my arms since I saw you walk into the party.”
Strong hands grip my waist and tug me across the bed before his arms engulf me and press me to his chest. My eyes roll back in my head at the feeling of comfort and safety the simple act brings.
“Go to sleep.” His hold on me tightens. “I’ll fuck you for breakfast.”
My eyes fly open with the force of my laughter. “I love you when you sweet-talk me.”
His body goes tense at my side.
No, no! That’s not what I meant. “I love it when you sweet-talk. It.” Oh shit. My muscles go rigid. It’s not like I said “I love you”. Well maybe technically I did, but there’s no way he thinks that, right? Shit, shit, shit!
My skin flames with embarrassment. It’s probably best if I pretend it never happened and hope he chalks it up to a long night. I take a shaky breath. “Good night.”
His hold on me loosens along with the tension in his muscles. “’Night.”
I blink into the dark room. Leave it to me to go and fuck everything up. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. My dad was right. I’m better off seen and not heard. I’ll try to remember that from here on out, that is, if Cameron keeps me around after tonight.
~*~
Cameron
The alarm blares in my ears and finally pulls at my eyelids. There’s no way it’s already morning. It seems like I fell asleep minutes ago. I rub my eyes and can’t help but feel as though I’m missing something. I turn to the clock and slam the thing off. Six-thirty in the morning. I grab my pillow and roll over. I’ll catch a little more sleep before—a yawn forces a big inhale. Mmm . . . sweet and spice.
I blink open my eyes. Eve. Did she get up and leave? She didn’t have a car or money, so if she did, she’s on foot. I sit up and look around the room. Empty.
I run my hands through my hair and move to the bathroom. My eyes fix on the backpack that hangs from a hook by the shower. I take a deep, relieved breath. She’s still here.
While in the bathroom, I brush my teeth and wash my face then head out to find her. Maybe she woke early and went to watch TV. The house is silent until I hit the kitchen where mumbling voices filter in from the dining room. As I get closer, they become more distinct: Eve and Ryder. The clinking of silverware to plates fills the gaps in their conversation.
“How were you able to get into The Joint? I thought they were twenty-one and up?” Eve says through what sounds like a mouthful of food.
“They are, but we know a guy who hooks us up. As long as we don’t drink the booze, he lets us in.” Ryder’s going to clubs under age. Not exactly new information, but it pisses me off anyway. The last thing he needs is a criminal record to set him up for the future.
“You guys go, but you don’t drink?”
“We go for the music mainly. Some of the guys drink before, but I’m usually the designated driver.”
“You’re a lot more responsible than I was at your age.” Her low chuckle says that we don’t even know the half of it.
His age, so four years ago? Shit, these reminders of her age are like little sucker punches to the gut.
“Nah, I’m not a big fan of liquor. Makes good people act like jackasses.”
Eve hums her agreement. “What bands do you like?”
“Traverse is my favorite. Been trying to see them for years, but it’s impossible to get into their shows.”
“I saw them last summer.”
“No kidding. What were they like?”
“Ah-mazing. Cy Castro’s voice in real life is even better live than on the album.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.” A utensil clanks on a plate. “Shit, I’m so jealous.”
“When they come back to town, I’ll try to get you tickets.”
“You could do that?”
She must nod. “Mm-hm. I know a guy who does security for all the big shows.”
She knows a guy? And why the motherfuck does that little slice of news make me want to break something?
“Really? That would be so fuckin’ cool.”
“Pass the syrup?”
“Here.”
“Thanks. If you like Traverse, you’d like my friend’s band, Ataxia.”
“I’ve heard of them. I think the lead singer fights for my dad.”
“Yeah, Rex. The band’s more mainstream than Traverse, but they have a similar style. They play at The Blackout all the time. I could pull some strings, get you in.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“That’s so kick ass.”
A few seconds of silence pass and I move to enter.
“You’re way cooler than the other chicks my dad dates.”
Oh fuck.
Eve coughs or chokes. She clears her throat. “Um . . . other chicks? Wow. Thank you? I think.”
“Oh no, he’s not dating anyone now. I just mean since he and my mom got divorced.”
I release the breath I was holding. She’s already worried that I’m playing her. Ry’s clarification was helpful, but I’m sure it was enough to get into her head.
Thankfully, she changes the conversation back to music, and I quit my eavesdropping and move to the living room. My stomach churns with unease. Listening to them talk is like being in the room while Ry and his buddies hang out. The bands, the shows, the venues, it’s like a foreign language that only the two of them understand.
I told myself I wasn’t going to let our age difference affect our hanging out, and here I am considering cutting her loose. Even as the thought passes through my head, my body jolts to stop that line of thinking.
No, we’ll be fine. I can look past the seventeen years that divide us, at least for as long as this thing between us lasts. Yeah, this can—
“Hey, when did you wake up?” Eve’s voice calls my eyes to her. She’s standing there in pair of baggy sweats and the same top she slept in, but now wearing a bra. No wonder Ry was able to have a coherent conversation. No way would he have been able to form complete sentences if she hadn’t.
“Just now.”
“I made French toast.” She gives me an uneasy smile. “I hope that’s okay.”
Her nervousness is so damn cute. “Smells good.”
She motions over her shoulder to the kitchen. “You want some?”
“Be great, babe.”
Ryder comes dragging into the room, his eyes looking as if they haven’t seen sleep in days. “Mornin’, Dad.” He passes me to the hallway, rubbing his belly. “Eve’s breakfast blows your egg whites and protein shakes out of the water. I’m gonna have to take a nap before I go out today.”
“Where are you going today?”
Ryder stops in the open mouth of the hallway and turns. “It’s Sunday.” He shrugs as if it’s the most common thing ever. “Me and the guys jam on Sunday.’”
“Right.” I run a hand through my hair, hoping Eve doesn’t pick up on my forgetfulness like Ryder’s expression proves he does. At least the kid is used to having to repeat himself to me.
Eve’s eyes follow him until he disappears behind his door, a small grin on her face. “Nice kid.”
Kid. Fuckin’ hell.
“You fed my boy.” Damn, that came out harsher than I wanted.
Her smile falls. “Oh, yeah, I mean when I woke up he was here, so I asked him if he was hungry.” She crosses her arms over her stomach and gnaws on her lower lip.
This is stupid. I’m thirty-eight years old and way too tired to deal with shit like jealousy and mistrust. Especially over my own son.
I grind down on my jealousy. “Nice of you.”
She seems to relax, drops her arms, and smiles.
I push up, walk over, and lean a hip against the counter. “You sleep okay?”
Like last night, she rushes to my side, her arms coming around my waist. “Slept great.”
I place my arms awkwardly around her back. It comes a little easier than it did last night, but not by much. “You work today?”
She tilts her head back, flashing those big eyes behind dark lashes. “I wasn’t supposed to, but I got called in for a manager meeting at ten. I’m going to try to pick up a shift after that, you know, after last night.” Her cheeks pink and she dips her chin.
She’s picking up a shift after her dad cleaned her out. My chest warms with pride at her work ethic and determination. How many twenty-one-year-olds would pull themselves up like this rather than beg for handouts?
Her finger traces the swirls of the tattoo on my bicep. “I should be done by lunch. If you don’t have plans, maybe we could do something?” She sucks in a tiny breath, but doesn’t release it.
“I have to go to the office for a few hours, but I’ll call you when I’m done.”
She nods quickly. “Yeah, of course, I figured you’d have plans. I just, I don’t know, I was just putting it out there in case you wanted to, but if you don’t, then I’m—”
I press my thumb against her lips. “Shhh. I didn’t say I didn’t want to, but before things go any further between us . . .” Fuck, how do I get this out without sounding like a dick? I take a few seconds to go over the words in my head before they fly from my lips. “The UFL gets most of my time. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and there will be days that I’m at the training center from sun up ’til sundown. I want to spend time with you, but I can’t give you all of me.” Even as the words resonate in my head, I hear the truth behind them. There will always be a part of me that lies tucked away from prying eyes. I’ll never be capable of anything beyond a surface relationship.
“I understand.” She brushes her hand along my jaw. “You’re lucky I’m pretty low maintenance.” A small frown tugs at her lips before she catches herself and forces a smile. “So on to breakfast and then you can take me home.”
“I have a better idea. Breakfast.” I swipe her thick bangs off her forehead. “Shower.” I run my hand down her back and cup her ass. “Grab a little dessert before you get dressed.” Her body shivers in my arms, and I press her against my hardening body. “Then I drop you at home.”
She licks her lips, her eyelids drop low. “I lo—er”—her eyelids flutter, chasing away the dreamy look—“I like that plan.”
I kiss her forehead. “Feed me.” I smack her ass, and she giggles into the kitchen.
This isn’t stupid. This is two adults having a good time. A little voice whispers I should break it off, but when I picture Eve with anyone else, imagine her back at her place with scumbags like her dad showing up, it makes me crazy. I’ll live in the now, take advantage of the fun that we have together until she starts hinting that she needs more. Then we can go our separate ways as friends so that I’m available if she needs me. Because no matter what, I’m keeping Eve in my life, even if I’m not able to really let her into it.