Camille
The cabin was dark and anything but quiet. Camille thought being in the middle of the woods would mean the silence would be deafening, but instead she found just the opposite. Bugs chirped, owls hooted, all manner of unknown animals rustled and moved outside her window. After spending nearly a month in the warehouse basement, where all she heard was the stomping of boots on the floors above her head, all the noise made her edgy.
She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Jon was just on the other side of the wall sleeping. At first, things between them had been a little awkward. Mostly because she had no idea how to interact with a man she found so damn attractive. Camille had only focused on one thing her entire life, school. Determined to never be a burden on her parents, she had decided early that she would excel at school, get into a great college, then a medical program, and become a doctor so she could support herself. So she had never really noticed the guys around her. Sure, she had a crush or two over the years. But never anything that made her really sit up and take notice.
Until Jon.
That one brief glimpse of him the day she got arrested had been earth shifting. It was as if everything she had previously known realigned into a picture which brought everything else into focus.
The crunch of leaves just on the other side of her wall interrupted her daydreams about Jon. She quieted her breathing, straining to hear any sounds from outside that might seem out of place. Another shuffle of leaves and a branch breaking made her leap from the bed and plaster herself against the door. Her hand gripped the knob, ready to turn it and sprint at the slightest indication that someone had been trying to break into the house.
Camille’s lungs burned with the effort to hold her breath; to not give herself away. A soft thud, almost like a door closing, sent her scrambling out of the guest bedroom Jon had deposited her in and down the hall before her brain could catch up with her feet. A cold sweat poured down her temples, matting her hair to her face. The hall seemed to stretch on forever. The kitchen, she just needed to make it to the kitchen and she would be able to grab a weapon to defend herself.
Just as she was about to break free from the long corridor, a hulking figure stepped out into the arch separating the bedrooms and the rest of the open cabin. A scream tore up through Camille’s still raw throat. The sound burned across the sensitive flesh, but not even the pain of freshly healed wounds tearing open could quiet her pleas. “Please, no.”
Unable to stop her socked feet in midflight, her body slammed against the threatening form, iron-like arms banded around her small frame, holding her to the attacker’s broad chest. Camille thrashed and scratched at his skin, but the man held strong, unwilling to let her get away. She hoped and prayed that Jon would wake up, come out to see what all the noise was about.
Her mind reeled, the shock of being found again shutting it down to protect herself from further torture. Her body went slack, and she gave into the fate of never being truly free again. Of her own impending death at the hands of the sadistic bastards that had held her for so long.
Instead of being dragged from the cabin, and away from her protector, as she expected, the man holding her slumped to the ground, pulling her between his thick thighs, and soothing her with a gentle hand down her hair. A soft shushing helped to calm her from the adrenaline rush of her fight or flight response.
“It’s okay sweetheart, it's just me. No one will hurt you. I will never let another human being lay a finger on you in anything but love.”
Jon.
Thank god, it was Jon. Not Rich, or his goons.
Once her adrenaline seeped away and her brain calmed slightly, Jon’s spicy scent enveloped her. His warm back and arms chased away the cold fear. Twisting in his grip, Camille threw her arms around his neck, and burrowed her face into his chest, heaving and sobbing as the safety of his presence set free her bottled up emotions.
Camille quickly realized this was the closest they had ever been. While in the hospital, Jon had held her hand, touched her leg and face, but he always kept a respectful distance. But now, they were so entwined Camille felt like she could get lost in his grip.
Lost in the best way.
“I’m sorry, I heard noises, I thought you were in your bedroom asleep. I thought they had found me.” She babbled on and on, talking into his shirt, and he simply held her until she finished.
After her words had all ran out, Jon cupped her cheeks and drew her back slightly to look into her eyes. “No one will find you here. No one will hurt you ever again. I swear to you I won’t let that happen.”
Camille bit her bottom lip and nodded confidently. She felt foolish now, of course no one would know about the cabin. Jon had said it was totally off the radar. But still, the fear had yet to totally loosen its grip on her heart. She knew it would take a very long time before she stopped jumping at every little thing.
“Jon?” She kept her voice soft, low, trying to lessen the ache she felt there from her weeks of screaming and crying.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Jon’s gruff voice grinding out the nickname he had given her made her heart beat double time.
“I don’t want to be alone. When I’m alone my mind starts playing tricks on me.” She sucked in a deep breath, knowing he would fight her on her request. “Can I sleep in your bed? With you?”
Jon groaned and leaned his forehead against hers. “Camille, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I want nothing more than to take care of you, and I’m more than willing to stretch the letter of the law if it means keeping you safe. But having you in my bed crosses all kinds of lines.”
Camille fought back the tears that burned at her eyes again. She refused to let them fall. Of course Jon wouldn’t want to share his bed with a frightened, neurotic, naive girl half his age. She’d never shared a bed with a man before, never shared her body either. But she still knew that there were things men couldn’t control. Things they liked. She was endlessly curious about those things. Her life had been very sheltered both thanks to her overprotective parents, and her own preference to be alone studying, rather than out partying. But Jon had awoken something inside her that she had never bothered to think about before.
Given the circumstances, she knew her feelings were highly inappropriate, but she couldn’t control it any more than she could control the weather. Jon Gallo was a tall, muscular, wall of hotness that she wanted to climb and rub herself all over. Of course, he wouldn’t want the same things, he was a man that could probably have any number of women, not some underdeveloped twenty-two year virgin.
Jon must have seen the tears pooling behind her eyelids, on the verge of flooding down her cheeks, because in the next breath he pulled her into his arms once again, pressed his lips to the top of her head, and whispered, “Okay, you can sleep with me. But just tonight. Just until you get used to the sounds of the woods.”
“Okay.” She would take it. If one night was all she got with the warmth of Jon next to her in bed, then she would ingrain the memory into her brain to recall whenever she needed a respite.
“But let’s sleep in your room. I gave you the bigger bed, and I don’t think you want to try and fit into the twin I was going to take.”
Camille’s heart glowed with happiness. Jon had sacrificed his own comfort to make sure she would have the best. It made her already racing heart speed up another notch. Unable to voice her gratitude, she simply nodded and allowed Jon to pick her up, cradled against his chest. She desperately wanted to stroke the hard muscles under his t-shirt, but managed to keep her hands still and firmly pressed just above his thudding heart.
Back in the room, Jon laid her down so gently it brought more tears to her eyes. “Blanket, or no blanket?”
“Blanket. Even before the warehouse I used thick blankets through the whole summer.” She drew in a deep shuddering breath. “Now it feels like I can’t get warm enough.”
“We’ll take care of that sweetheart.”
Flashes of Jon’s body draped over her, warming her skin in place of the blanket flashed through her mind, and she felt all of the blood in her body race for both her cheeks and her pussy. Why did she have to be so attracted to him?
Once Jon had her tucked into the thick quilt that had been folded at the foot of the bed, he rounded the room, and climbed onto his side. He didn’t cover himself with the blanket, instead laying ramrod straight on the mattress with his hands firmly folded over his stomach.
“Do you want to share?” She lifted the corner of the blanket closest to him in invitation.
“No thanks, sweetheart.” He spoke to the ceiling, never turning his head to look at her. “I run pretty hot at night. If I had anything over me I’d be sweatin’ by dawn.”
Camille bit her bottom lip and lowered her hand, feeling quite silly for the burn of rejection seeping through her body. It wasn’t anything personal, so why should she be upset?
Lids tightly closed, Camille tried to fall asleep, but it just wouldn’t happen. Her brain wouldn’t shut off, and she couldn’t get comfortable. At the hospital, Jon always had a hand on her skin at all times. Since they had left, he’d barely touched her at all, other than the hall incident. She missed his touch. She couldn’t relax without it.
After her third try at finding a more comfortable position, Jon peeked at her from the corner of his eye. “What’s going on over there? Can’t sleep?”
“No, I just can’t stop thinking.” She was silent for a moment before an idea occurred to her. “Will you talk to me. Just talk about anything. Tell me another story about the antics you and your brother got into?”
With a simple nod Jon started in on a story about his brother pulling the mother of all pranks at school, and Jon’s refusal to help. Around the time his brother snuck the lobsters into the fish take in the principal's office, Camille began to drift off to sleep. Jon had relaxed back into the pillows a little, one arm behind his head, the other laying on top of the blankets next to his hard body. In her half-awake state, Camille reached out and entwined their fingers, holding his much larger hand in her tiny palm.
****
Camille shifted on the bed, and a low moan vibrated beneath her. Her eyes flew open, and were greeted with Jon’s chest pressed beneath her cheek. Awareness crept in bit-by-bit, and she blushed at the position she somehow found herself after one of the best nights of sleep she had ever had.
Almost half on top of Jon, her head was nestled between his shoulder and neck, while her face rested just above his heart. One hand had somehow snaked up under his shirt, and rested on his ribs, the other arm was wedged between them, still holding his hand. A leg was flung over his hips, the other plastered against his leg so she appeared to be in a bit of a modified straddle over his lower half.
From the feeling of his hard dick pressing against the back of her leg, he didn’t seem to mind their sleeping arrangement all that much.
She laid absolutely still, not wanting to move a muscle and disturb the man she clung to. The warmth of his body beneath her sent a rush of pure lust, like she had never known, through her body, pooling into the apex of her thighs. She wanted to rub against him like a cat in heat. Cover herself in his masculine scent, embed it directly into her skin.
“Mmmm, sweetheart.” Jon shifted, his arms to wrapped around her waist and dragged her more fully astride his body. He buried his face into her hair inhaling deeply. “You always smell so good.”
Jon’s rough hands traced down her body, coming to rest on her hips, guiding them to rub along his stiff cock. Her breath hitched in her throat, she tried to force down the moans building in her chest. But the smooth slide of him against her core refused to be ignored. The sounds spilled from her lips, directly into Jon’s ear.
All movement stopped. Embarrassment surged through Camille until she was sure her face glowed bright red. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the pity painted on his features.
“Sweetheart.” His term of endearment for her was whispered, laced with regret now instead of the heat that had filled his voice while he was still half asleep. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
Slowly he slid her off his body, hissing as her leg brushed against his arousal.
“No, I’m sorry. I guess I’m a cuddler. I’ve never had the opportunity to find that out before.” She laughed nervously, trying to play off the awkward situation as no big deal.
“Shit.” Jon sat up on the edge of the bed, his hands buried in his hair.
Camille recalled the way he had said her name, said she felt good. She hadn’t imagined the longing in his voice, had she? “Do you dream about me, Jon?”
“Fuck, Cami, you can’t ask me that. I can’t answer that.” Jon stood, and strode with purpose from the room. “I’ll get breakfast started.”
Legs curled up in front of her, Camille wrapped her arms around them and buried her face in her knees to hide the giddy smile on her face. Chief Jon Gallo, sexiest man alive, and tough cop, dreamed about her.