Camryn - December
“Camryn, it’s just not working. We both know that. I care about you, but I’m not in love with you.”
Watching Adam pace across the living room, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, I numbly absorb his words.
“You want to break up?” I ask, my disbelief apparent.
Pausing in front of me, he runs his hands through his hair, making the inky strands stand up in disarray, bicep stretching his shirt to the limit. Normally that sight would have me licking my lips knowing that those strong arms would be wrapped around me, but now I’ll never feel the warmth of his embrace
“Are you happy, Cam? Really happy? ‘Cause I’m not,” he says, the tone of his voice telling me he already knows the answer.
“I am…I think.”
“You think?” he asks, incredulous. “If you only think you are, you’re not. I want you to be happy. You deserve that, and so do I.”
“You want to break up?” Jeez, I sound like a damn parrot.
Kneeling on the carpet in front of me, Adam grips my cold hands in his and rests his forehead against them before looking up at me with sad gray eyes.
“Cam, I love you, but I’m not in love with you. And I think we are better off apart.” His eyes search my face before he continues. “I want to fall in love with someone and spend the rest of my life with her. Have babies and grow old together.”
“Is there someone else?” I try to control the tremble in my voice as I ask the question that has been plaguing me for months. The insecurity in the back of my mind is unrelenting.
“There’s no one else, Cam,” he breathes out.
“Has there been?”
“No, I haven’t cheated on you.” He hesitates before he continues, guilt written on his face. “I’ve been tempted, and I’ve come damn close, but I couldn’t do that to you. That’s not the kind of man I am.”
Reaching up, he wipes tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen from my cheek.
“This for the best, Camryn. You deserve to be loved like you are the air he breathes, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his soul. That’s not me. And you’re not for me. If we don’t let each other go, we’ll never find the piece of our heart that’s missing.”
Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss on my forehead before standing up.
“I’ll always be here if you need me, Camryn. Always.”
Turning, he strides to the door and picks up the black duffle bag I never saw sitting beside it. With one last look over his shoulder, he walks out of the door and out of my life, leaving me sitting there alone—again.
The ringing of the phone wakes me from an exhausted sleep. Blinking, I reach for the phone, my hand patting the table until I touch the device and grab it before it vibrates off the edge.
“He—” I croak before clearing my throat to try again. “Hello?”
“Camryn? Hey, it’s Sarah. I’ll be there to pick you up a six tonight. That okay?”
“Huh? What’s tonight?” I rack my brain, trying to remember, but my thoughts are fuzzy from my night of drowning my sorrows.
“We’re going to see my boyfriend’s band play, remember?” she asks, exasperated.
“That’s tonight?” I push back the long, red strands of hair covering my face.
“Yes, silly. It’s New Year’s Eve. Is Adam going to meet us there?”
“Uh…no, he’s not.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “We…um, broke up last night.”
“Oh, shit. Really?” Shock bleeds into concern as she speaks.
“Yeah, and I’m not sure I feel like going out tonight.”
“Bullshit. You need to get out tonight and get him off your mind. Even if it’s just for a little while. You can drink and dance and have a good time. I’ll be the designated driver so you won’t have to worry about drinking too much,” she orders like a drill sergeant.
“Sarah, I’m not sure,” I waver.
“I’ll be there in three hours, and I’m dragging your ass out whether you want to go or not.”
“Sarah…Sarah?” The silence on the other end of the line assures me she hung up.
Son of a bitch.
Pushing down the covers, I swing my legs off the side of the bed. With the movement, my stomach rolls and whatever’s left in there threatens to make a reappearance. Ugh, how much did I drink last night? I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, and my pulse pounds like a jackhammer in my head.
Glancing at the clock, I groan. It’s two in the afternoon. I’ve slept the day away. I make my way to the bathroom and flip on the light, blinding myself in the process. Blinking, my eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, and what I see in the mirror would scare small children. I am not a pretty crier. My eyes are red and puffy. I look like someone punched me. My face is splotchy, nose raw, hair tangled and matted to my head…
There’s no way I’m going to be presentable for tonight.
Turning on the hot water in the shower, I take off Adam’s Calloway Construction t-shirt and aim toward the hamper. Pausing, I take one last smell of the cologne clinging to the material, then drop it into the trash instead. I don’t need constant reminders of him lingering.
Steam billows from the shower as I open the curtain. Nothing in the world is better than a hot shower. The longer I stand under the spray, the better I feel, until the water starts to cool off. Before collapsing back on my bed, I down four ibuprofens and lay a cool, wet washcloth over my eyes.
Loud knocking jars me from sleep, and the now warm washcloth slides off my face, landing on the floor with a soft, wet plop. I stand up, waiting to see if my stomach is going to rebel as my towel drifts to the bed. I reach for my robe and wrap it around me while walking into the living room. Looking through the peephole, Sarah’s standing there with a big pink bag hanging from her shoulder, impatience written on her face. I lean my head softly against the door, contemplating whether to open it.
“I’m not leaving, Camryn. You might as well open this door.”
Flipping the lock, I open the door and step back as she barrels through.
“Well, you look like shit,” she blurts out. “But no excuses, you’re coming out with me tonight. Move it, sister.”
“Hi to you, too,” I mumble to her back as she walks into the living room.
“Sorry, hon. I know this is a tough time for you. Let’s get you dolled up, and we’ll paint this town tonight.”
“I don’t get dolled up.”
“Tonight, you sure as hell are. I’m gonna raid your closet, but I brought back-ups if we need them. You’ll be smoking hot by the time I’m through.”
I seriously have my doubts, but I can’t deny Sarah knows her stuff. I’m a bigger girl, so I always try to make myself as plain as possible to avoid drawing attention—dark clothes, sensible shoes, and a simple French braid to keep my curly hair tamed. Sarah, on the other hand, flaunts her goods. She may be a couple inches shorter than my five-nine, but she’s curvier than I am. She skirts the line between professional and club wear when at work. Cleavage should be her middle name. The length of her skirts could be considered scandalous for an office. And the four-inch heels she wears would cause me to break my neck. She never lacks attention from the opposite sex, though, and revels in the adoration. I can’t help but be a little jealous of her confidence.
“Okay, hair and makeup first, or outfit?” she asks, looking me over with a critical eye.
“Um...”
“Outfit first, then I can decide how to do your makeup.”
Throwing open my closet door, she begins rummaging through my clothes while clucking her tongue. All my sensible work clothes are in the front, but she quickly pushes them out of the way and reaches into the back of the closet.
“Eureka!” she yells as she backs out holding an emerald dress. “This is going to be gorgeous on you.” Spying the tags still attached to the garment, she asks, “Why haven’t you worn this before?”
“Uh, I’ve never had a chance to, I guess. Kristen talked me into buying it, but I didn’t have the guts to wear something that low cut.”
“Tonight, you are gonna rock this dress.”
“I don’t think I’ll be comfortable in it.” My upper arms will look horrible with all their extra flab, I think in disgust while imagining the jiggle with every motion.
“Okay.” Moving back to the closet to hang it up, she pauses. “Wait, don’t you have that short denim jacket?”
“It’s somewhere in there, I think. I’ve only worn it once.” Laying the dress on the bed, she goes back to digging through the clothes. After a couple minutes, she pulls the jacket out.
“Now, shoes. Do you have cowboy boots?”
“Actually, I do. They’re in the hall closet.”
“Perfect. Time for the hair. Get in the bathroom, sister.” Her tone brooks no argument.
“Let me grab a chair to sit on while you work your magic.”
Half an hour of her applying goop and spray, my hair is shaped in perfect ringlets, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Usually when I leave my hair down, my curls just look like a big frizz ball.
“How the hell did you do that? I can never make it look like this,” I ask, running a finger over one of the tendrils.
“The right products help, and from what I can see, you don’t have them. Don’t worry, I’m leaving the ones I brought for you.”
“Sarah…” My eyes catch hers in the mirror.
“I insist. I’m tired of you hiding your light under a bushel. You are a beautiful, smart woman. It’s time to shine, Camryn.”
Tears pool in my eyes as her words make me feel pretty for the first time.
“None of that. Let’s get this makeup done.”
“I’m not sure…”
“Trust me. I won’t do anything you won’t like. I’m not going to turn you into a Kardashian.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and steel my resolve. “Okay. Go for it,” I say, and she turns me, so I can’t see what she’s doing.
Twenty minutes and a “Ta-da” later, I turn to see the damage, and my mouth gapes open. It’s me, only better. I was afraid she was going to contour and highlight until none of me was left, but she didn’t. It’s…well, perfect. My eyes look amazing, and the colors she used make them pop. My lips are full and pouty. Just a touch of color on my cheekbones add a little definition.
“You like it?” she asks, tentative for the first time.
“It’s…amazing.”
The smile she bestows upon me would light up a room. “It’s all you, girl. I just added a little polish. You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you. For everything.” I clasp her hand resting on my shoulder as our eyes meet in the mirror.
“You’re more than welcome. Time to get dressed so we can head out and have a fun time tonight. I’m going to get changed and do some touch-ups to my hair and makeup,” she says while grabbing her bag and heading toward the bathroom. “Oh, and, Camryn,” she calls out, “sexy underwear.” She winks.
“Why? Not like anyone’s going to see it.”
“But you’ll know it’s there, and it’ll make you feel sexy. And when you feel sexy, that’s what radiates from you.”
She closes the bathroom door with a smirk, and I open my dresser drawer, taking in all the plain, cotton, not-so-sexy underwear. Jeez, being with the same guy for years really does a number on your panty drawer. Feeling defeated, I start flinging my depressing collection to the floor when I finally spy some lacy material at the back and snatch it up. I had completely forgotten about this set.
Slipping them on, I bend over to adjust the girls in the cups and remember why I never wore this bra. Holy titties, Batman. Don’t overthink this, Cam.
Sliding the dress over my head, the soft material skims my curves without being too clingy. I glance at myself in the mirror, then look away before I start dissecting my flaws.
The bathroom door opens, catching my attention. Sarah saunters out and lets out a wolf whistle.
“Hot mama! Damn, Camryn, if I weren’t straight, I’d be on you like white on rice.”
“You sure it looks okay?” Biting my lip, I look down, but I can’t see anything but a massive amount of cleavage. Curling my hands into fists, I resist the urge to adjust the top to cover up more of myself.
“Okay? You look more than okay. You look fabulous. Let’s get you some jewelry and finish you off.”
After digging through my pitiful jewelry box, she finds a pair of gold hoop earrings and a few bangle bracelets. Slipping them on my arm, I pluck my jacket from the bed and head out to Sarah’s car, praying the night won’t be a total disaster.
The dance floor is crammed as we make our way through the bar. Luke Bryan’s “Country Girl” has the crowd moving, boots stomping on the wooden floor and skirts twirling as men swing their ladies around. The vibe in the air is contagious, and I can’t help but tap my foot to the beat.
“We have a table reserved down near the stage. Come on.”
Grabbing my hand, she leads me around the dance floor to a bar top set to the right of the stage. As soon as our butts touch the seats, the waitress is at our table.
“Hey, Sarah. Good to see you tonight,” she says with a smile.
“Thanks, Anna. Can you bring us the punch?”
“Sure thing, ladies. Be right back.”
“What’s the punch?”
“It’s something one of the bartenders made up. It’s delicious, but don’t let it deceive you, it’s potent.” She wags her eyebrows at me.
Four glasses of punch later, I’m feeling no pain. The band we came to see has been rocking the house, I’ve danced with three different guys, and for once, I feel like the belle of the ball. Dan spins me around, and I lock gazes with a familiar pair of green eyes. All too quickly, my back is turned to him as I complete the spin. When the song ends, I return to the table, promising Dan another dance later.
“I think you’re having a good time, Camryn.” Sarah nudges me with her shoulder. “I don’t ever think I’ve seen you smile so much.”
“I am. Please tell me you ordered some food. I’m famished,” I say, fanning myself with a napkin.
“I ordered a sampler appetizer and a couple more drinks. But first, drink this,” she says, pushing a bottle of water toward me.
Twisting the top off, I chug half before coming up for air, and let out a burp, hoping the surrounding noise covers up my unladylike behavior. The thought barely crosses my mind when I hear the masculine chuckle behind me. I look at Sarah as she focuses over my shoulder, her blue eyes wide.
“Glad to see you enjoying yourself, Red,” the voice whispers in my ear. The small movement of air causes goosebumps to break out over my arms.
Clearing my throat, I mumble, “Hi, Isaac. Fancy seeing you here.”
“I bet. I wouldn’t peg this as a place where I would find you.” Reaching around me, he sets his beer on the worn wooden surface. “What brings you out tonight?”
“Her boyfriend is in the band.” I nod in Sarah’s direction.
“Oh, really? Which one?” he asks, turning his attention to Sarah.
“Keith plays guitar. I’m Sarah, by the way. Camryn and I work together.”
He sticks out his hand. “Isaac. And Keith is who I’m here to see. When I heard Southern Drawl was playing here tonight, I decided to drop in.”
“You know Keith?” Sarah questions.
Nodding, he replies, “We went to high school together. Even had a garage band our sophomore year before he moved away.” He places his hands on my shoulders and starts to knead them. A soft moan falls from my lips, and my cheeks burn in embarrassment. Please let him not have heard that.
“He’s never mentioned that before.” Thank you, Sarah, for keeping the conversation going.
“He always was a quiet guy. I think it’s why he never wanted to be the lead singer even though he has the pipes for it.”
“That sounds like Keith. He doesn’t like the spotlight,” Sarah agrees.
Relaxing back into Isaac, my eyes flutter closed as he massages my shoulders. One hand travels to my neck, and his thumb traces a lazy pattern from the base of my skull to top of my back. Goosebumps race across my skin and my nipples tighten behind the lace of my bra. Before I fully fall into him, the waitress returns with our drinks and food, breaking the moment. The clink of the plate settling on the table has me straightening in my chair. His hands drop away from me. Glancing up, the waitress is eyeing Isaac up and down like a piece of meat.
“Can I get you something, handsome? Another beer?” She gives him a wink.
“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”
“Are you going to be sitting back at your table over there? I can have your waitress bring it to you.”
“Why don’t you sit with us, Isaac? I’m sure Keith would love to catch up with you,” Sarah insists. Turning around, she throws a little wave to the stage and gets a nod from Keith.
“If you ladies don’t mind,” Isaac replies before pulling out the remaining chair at the table.
I don’t know what it is about Isaac that makes me nervous, but he does. Or maybe nervous isn’t the what he makes me feel. Every time I stare into those deep green eyes, butterflies flutter in my stomach, and my heart pounds.
I’ve always refused to acknowledge any feelings for Isaac. Sure, he’s sexy, funny, and enigmatic, but he knows it, and he uses every amazing trait to his advantage. He’s the definition of a manwhore. Forget flavor of the week, try by the day. Anytime we’ve been out in public together with our friends, he’d show up alone, but he never left that way.
I glance around the dance floor, wondering who he’ll be taking home tonight. Why that thought makes me sick to my stomach, I don’t know. Distracting myself from that train of thought, I down half of the fruity concoction in front of me.
“Take it easy there, Red. That stuff will knock you on your ass.”
“Leave her alone. She’s living it up tonight. And she’s not driving anywhere. But, Cam, you may want to eat to soak up some of the alcohol,” she advises, pushing the heavy white plate closer to me.
With a glare, I grab a potato skin and take a bite. The cheese, bacon, and potato explode over my taste buds, making me realize how hungry I am. Isaac hands out small plates and places some food on mine before I finish chewing my first bite. Covering my mouth with my hand, I mumble, “Thank you,” and get a wink in return.
As I push the half-finished plate of food toward the center of the table, Isaac catches me off guard when he grabs my hand.
“Dance with me, Red.” Before I can utter a protest, I’m pulled off the chair and dancing my way across the floor in Isaac’s arms.
At first, I try to keep a respectable distance, but after a couple turns, my body melts into his with each step we take.
The songs blur together. Being held in his arms feels magical. I soak it up, knowing I’ll never have the opportunity again. The warmth of his hard body pressed to mine. His hand heating up the small of my back. The roughness of his palm against the softness of mine.
When the band announces they are going to take a break, Isaac leads me back to our table and pushes the remaining bottle of water in my direction, encouraging me to drink. We haven’t been sitting at the table more than a couple minutes before the waitress is back with another round of drinks and a flirtatious grin, but her smile falters when he gives her just a passing glance. His eyes remain firmly on me, causing me to blush to the roots of my hair. Grabbing the bottle of water, I drink the remainder hoping to cool myself off.
Keith makes his way over to the table a huge smile spreading across his face when he spies Isaac sitting at the table. The excitement coming from the two men after reuniting years later is palpable as they embrace and give each other a hearty slap on the back. While the guys talk about music and reminisce about the old days, I drink. And drink. And drink. I’ve lost count of the of how many glasses of punch I have imbibed as the conversation drones on, blending into the music and murmur of the other patrons.
Tilting over, I start to slide off the side of the chair before Isaac catches me, pushing me upright. Hearing my name being said, and I swing my head toward Sarah and blink to make her less blurry.
“Don’t worry, Sarah. I think she’s done for the night. I’ll get her home safely. You two have a good night. Keith give me a call sometime, and we’ll see what we can work out. Sarah, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for getting her out of the house. I know it probably wasn’t easy.”
Turning to face me, Isaac reaches for my hand. “Let’s get you home, Red. I think you’ve had enough fun tonight.”
With him touching me again, I’ll let him take me anywhere. Warmth spreads through me, and my heart starts to pound. Please let it just be the alcohol. I don’t think I can take being hurt again.
Waking up to Isaac saying my name was not how I imagined my night going. His hand on my shoulder gives me a gentle shake as the heat from his hands bleeds through the denim. Glancing around, I realize we’re sitting in the driveway outside my duplex.
“Where’re your keys?”
“In my purse.”
Reaching over, he grabs my purse off the floor and rummages around until he finds the keys. In what seems like the blink of an eye, he’s opening my door and helping me to my feet. As soon as I stand up, I get dizzy, and my knees get weak.
“Easy. Lean on me, and we’ll get inside,” he says as he wraps his heavy arm around my shoulders, drawing me into his side.
Eyeing my front door, it looks miles away. “Damn, I’m never going to make it that far,” I mumble. He chuckles as he starts up the walkway, as I lean heavily on his side.
“I’m glad you’re strong, Isaac. Otherwise, I’d be knocking you over.”
“Don’t talk that way, Camryn.” His voice rough with disapproval.
“What way?”
“Talking down about yourself,” he replies with a frown.
“I was just making an observation.”
Unlocking the door, he turns on the light before helping me inside.
“No, you were complimenting me, but talking down about you. I hate it when you do that.”
“You do?” I ask, squinting against the hall light. It’s brighter than the damn sun.
“Yes. You’re beautiful. And it pisses me off when say stuff like that.”
“I guess I didn’t realize I did.”
“Maybe you don’t, but you do. You always seem to undermine your worth.”
“Wait, did you say I’m beautiful?” A humorless laugh escapes before I realize it. “Are you drunk? Got beer goggles on?”
“Jesus Christ, Camryn, stop it!” I flinch at the volume of his voice and stumble to the side, my equilibrium taking a nose dive right along with the rest of me. Isaac’s arms come around me, drawing me close as I stabilize myself once more. His breath whispers across my cheek, and my blood thrums.
“You are fucking beautiful.” Gazing up, my eyes lock with his from under my lashes. The honesty I see there almost has me believing every word he says is the undeniable truth. And something else is there too. Hope? Lust?
My eyes dart to his lips, then up again. I lean closer, praying this isn’t a mistake, then turn and brush my lips against his.
“Camryn,” he moans, his voice desperate, yearning, but unsure. His fingers flex into my hips, and in the next breath, he possesses me—hot, hard, and hungry. Never have I been kissed like this. The softness of his lips on mine. The controlled strength of his hands holding me close. Excitement hums through my veins. Nothing else matters. Needing to be closer—needing more—I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him closer, crushing my breasts against his hard chest.
His hands glide from my hips to palm my ass. In the next instant, he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Isaac!” I squeak out against his lips, my pulse hammering.
Before I can say anything more, he pushes me back against the wall, and his lips are on mine again. The hard ridge of his dick rubs against my pussy through his jeans. When he hits the right spot, I softly moan.
“Right there, Red?” he whispers in my ear.
Biting my lip to keep from crying out, I nod. Little nibbling kisses trail down the side of my neck as he circles his hips, driving me higher and higher. When his bites the juncture of my shoulder and neck, the slight pain adds to the pleasure, setting me off. My shout of pleasure ricochets through the room, bouncing off the walls of the otherwise quiet house.
I lean against the wall, any remaining energy I had drained. My legs lower from his waist down his legs until they touch the floor. The only thing holding me upright is that hard body.
“Come on, Red. Let’s get you to bed. Which way to your room?”
Mumbling something unintelligible, he chuckles at my answer. As soon as he moves away from me, I start to slide down the wall.
“Whoa there,” he says, stopping my descent. Sweeping me into his arms, he moves through the living room, trying to locate my room.
Setting me down on the side of the bed, he removes my boots, then helps me slide off my jacket. The sound of the zipper lowering has me lifting my eyes to his face. Our gazes lock as he slides the dress off my arms.
“Damn it, Camryn. You make it hard.”
Blinking at him, I tilt my head in confusion. Cool air hits my nipples, and I glance down to realize he’s somehow unhooked my bra without me noticing. Following my gaze, his breath hitches and releases with a muttered, “Motherfucker.”
“I’m not a saint, Camryn. Damn it.” His eyes bounce from my tits to my face and back again. “I just want to touch you.”
“Do it.”
“Cam…”
“Please, Isaac. I ache. Make it better,” I plead.
“I’m going to hell,” he whispers.
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head up to look at him. Licking my bottom lip, his eyes focus on the wet path my tongue leaves. Leaning in, he nips my lower lip, then soothes the hurt with a swipe of his tongue. I raise my arms and wrap them around his neck, pressing my naked breasts against his shirt-covered chest.
“Isaac…”
“Yeah, Red?”
“Take your shirt off. I want to touch you.”
Rearing back, he grips the bottom of his shirt, rips it over his head, then crushes his chest to my breasts. My nipples rub deliciously against his skin.
“Kiss me.”
Before the words finish leaving my mouth, his lips are back, tongue twining with mine. One of his big hands moves to my breast, filling his hand to overflowing. He pinches my nipple and draws a pleasure filled moan from me.
Trailing his lips down my neck and chest, he lifts my breast to his mouth, wrapping his lips around my nipple and sucking hard. The mixture of pleasure and pain has me arching my back toward him, begging for more.
Leaning me back on the bed, he lies beside me, never breaking contact with my body. My hand moves to his head, clutching his hair, keeping him pressed against me.
“More,” I moan out.
He releases my nipple with a small pop before dropping to his knees beside the bed. Gripping my dress, he shimmies it farther down my hips.
“Lift up,” he orders.
Raising my hips, he slides my dress until it pools around my feet on the floor.
“Damn, you smell delicious. So wet for me.” His nose trails up the inside of my thigh.
At the light touch on my pussy, I press closer, eager for more. The next thing I know, my legs are on his shoulders, spreading me open wide and he’s attacking my pussy like a starving man at a buffet. Lips, tongue, and fingers everywhere all at once. Sensation overwhelms me as I wind up tighter with each second. The warm wetness of his tongue circles my clit before sucking it between his lips, his fingers stretch my sheath. With a come-hither motion and a nibble on my clit, I break apart into a million pieces.
Raising my head off the pillow, I try to remember how I got here. A sleep-roughened voice sounds from behind me as muscular arms pull me closer to his warm body.
“Go back to sleep, Red.”
With a little smile, I do just that.
Waking up the next morning, my mouth feels like the desert. The bright light shining through the blinds sears my retinas. How much did I freaking drink last night?
I sit up, a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water catching my attention. After I take four of the little blue capsules, I pull the covers back up over my head and go back to sleep.
A couple hours later, I wake back up, and I don’t feel near as bad. Moving off the bed, I make my way to the bathroom for some much-needed relief. Passing the bathroom mirror, I do a double take when I see what I’m wearing. A man’s black t-shirt—just like the ones Isaac wears all the time. My bladder makes itself known before I can contemplate what that means. As I take care of business, I lift the shirt to my nose. It even smells like him.
What the fuck did I do?