Never say never.

That’s all I can say.

Season five of The Walking Dead has me so nervous that I’m biting my fingernails. Seriously, do they have to make it so full of angst? I have no idea how I’ve managed to watch this series all by myself.

A zombie jumps out of the shadows and I scream. My pulse is racing so fast that I have to cover my head with my blanket. Honestly, I might have just had a heart attack.

Knock. Knock.

“Ahhhhhhh!” I scream even louder.

Realizing it isn’t a zombie coming to get me, I release the breath from my lungs. Someone is at the kitchen door, and the sound against the glass only made my heart beat faster. Get it together, Makayla. You’re a big girl. There are no bogeymen in the dark, or zombies in this case.

Maybe I can pretend I didn’t hear the knock and whoever it is will go away and let me finish this episode. It’s either Maggie’s latest beating her here before she even gets home from work—he has a habit of doing that—or Brooklyn and the door is locked, so he can’t get in.

Knock. Knock.

Hesitantly, I pull my head out from under the blanket and avert my attention away from the television, but it’s too dark outside to see who it is.

Setting my huge glass of red wine down, I hit pause on the remote and slowly rise to my feet. I spent all day making pieces and filling orders, and I am spent.

Another rap.

“Coming,” I call.

Wearing nothing but a T-shirt and panties, I wrap a blanket around me and start for the door. I flick the light on and freeze on the spot. Momentarily taken aback, it takes a few seconds before I begin to move again.

The closer I get, the faster my pulse races. There’s a distinct shadow in the dark of a man that looks very familiar.

A very tall, very handsome man who shared my bed all summer.

My heart stops at the sight of Camden Waters standing there. My steps falter, my breathing picks up, my mind spins into a daze of nothingness.

He’s back.

In a suit that fits his body perfectly, he looks ever so powerful. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top and his tie hangs loose. It looks like he’s been doing something important.

With a million tiny butterfly wings poking at my belly, I open the door. I have to grip the knob for support and to keep my knees from buckling beneath me. I draw in a slow, silent breath of relief because there he stands, leaning against the door frame with his head down and something in his hand.

That grin he gives me lights me up from the inside. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” I say back.

Trembling.

Uncertain.

And yet so thrilled to see him.

With a smirk, he holds out his hand. In it is a measuring cup. “I was hoping I could borrow a cup of sugar.”

Trying not to smile in return, I reach for the cup. “I’m not sure I have any.”

“Please,” he begs.

Okay he begged. I can’t turn him down now. I tip my head to the side. “Since you asked so nicely, let me check.”

“I’d appreciate it,” he returns.

With that, I close the door. And yes, he is on the other side of it. Setting the cup down, I hold onto the blanket and pretend to rummage through the cabinets with my heart pounding and my pulse thundering the entire time.

He’s back. He’s here. Now what?

Seconds later, Cam knocks on the door again.

Holding back my smile, I walk over to it, and with the blanket clutched in one hand, I open it wide with the other. This time when our eyes meet, warmth floods my whole body as we grin at each other. “Sorry, I don’t have any.”

Slowly, his gaze ravishes my face, and every feeling he has for me blazes in his eyes. “Let me try this a different way. Can we talk?”

No.

No.

No.

Yet, instead of saying no, I nod and move aside. I just can’t deny him. Honestly, I don’t want to.

That long, lean body of his strides in like he never left and I almost wish he hadn’t. Then I remember that we both had things we had to work out, and my stomach flips uneasily at the thought of Cam coming just to tell me he’s moving back to New York.

A wariness consumes his expression and he leans against the counter. “Makayla, I am so sorry,” he starts, his voice gruff with emotion.

My entire body is shaking.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before. In fact, there’s no one like you. You are everything I could possibly want and I screwed it up. I never meant to hurt you, or ignore you; I was only trying to find myself. Can you forgive me?”

“Cam,” I whisper, overwhelmed that he’s back, and not wanting to remember that day when both of us acted rashly.

He pushes off the counter and takes one small step toward me. “Shhh…don’t answer that yet. Let me explain to you what I should have explained that day in my kitchen, okay?”

Gripping onto the blanket, I nod and swallow the tears threatening to spill.

A complex mix of confidence and insecurity stares at me. “You are the most important thing to me. I will always put you first, I can promise you that, but you were right—I needed to get my shit together. I had already figured that out. I just didn’t know where to start, but I figured it out, and that’s what I’ve been doing over the past month. I want to bring companies back to life. I bought Simon Warren and I’ve been working with Katherine on a plan to revitalize it.”

My hands fly to my mouth and I can no longer hold back my tears. He really has been finding himself and this is what he should be doing, something he loves, what he was meant to do.

“My whole life I wanted to run a business, and I let go of that dream after Brandon died. The pregnancy scare made me realize I needed to do something with my life. And watching you going after what you wanted, it made me see my dream was still alive too. I just had to find it buried under all of that anger.”

He’s found himself. He’s really found himself.

Cam takes a step closer, and in the small galley kitchen we now stand only a foot apart. “Makayla,” he says, “we’ve been seatmates, frenemies, book club partners, friends, teacher/student, and lovers, but I was hoping right now you could just be mine.”

Tears roll down my cheeks, but there is no hesitation in my movement as I take that one step keeping us apart and fling myself at him. The blanket falls to the ground and I just don’t care.

Catching me, he cups my ass and whispers in my ear, “I’m so sorry. Do you forgive me?”

“Yes, I will always forgive you. I love you,” I choke out against his warm chest. “And I’m sorry too—I shouldn’t have acted like that. Can you forgive me?”

In answer, Cam gently pulls away but keeps his palms right on the lacy fabric of my panties, leaning back just far enough so he can look into my face. I am without makeup, exhausted, and overwhelmed. A mess. But he stares at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His voice is intense as he tells me, “I love you, too, Makayla Alexander, so goddamn much.”

My arms tighten around him and I never want to let him go.

Just then the pause timer from the television releases and the sound of zombies travels into the kitchen.

Amusement curls the corners of Cam’s mouth. “Are you watching The Walking Dead?”

I bite my lip anxiously and gaze into his gleaming eyes. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

“I knew you would cave,” he laughs.

Cocky bastard.

Our eyes connect and it feels like minutes pass, but it’s only seconds. That electric pull is there, stronger than ever.

I feel like I’m wearing a raspberry beret.

No, I’m Madonna dancing in all my jewels.

Better yet, I feel happy, so happy that I want to clap along.

Cam smiles—not a full smile, but that half-grin. His lush lips are begging for me to kiss him and I don’t want to waste another minute as I throw my arms around his neck and crash my mouth to his. He puts one hand behind my neck and the other on the small of my back. We both open our mouths wide as our lips connect, and I feel the connection between our souls.

We kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

After he tosses me over his shoulder, keeping that one hand on my ass that is now inside my panties, he carries me all the way up the stairs and into my bedroom.

Very caveman of him.

Secretly, I love it.

Once inside, he sits on my bed with me in his lap and I curl my legs around him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

I blow out a long breath. “No more sorrys, okay?”

He nods and his eyes light up. “I’ve missed you and your body so fucking much.”

“This body has missed you,” I purr. “I even broke down and bought a new vibrator.”

“I jerked off every day to your naked picture,” he confesses.

I’m glad now that I never deleted it from his phone.

I squirm in anticipation at the thought of his long, thick cock. “Oh, God,” I moan. “I want you.”

My T-shirt is short and his hands easily slide into my panties again and start to caress my ass.

I thought he was a boob man, but I’m starting to think he’s more of an ass man. I might have to reconsider the forbidden zone. Someday.

“No condom,” I tell him.

“You sure?”

“I’m fertile free right now, so let’s take advantage of it.”

His face twists. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“Get over it,” I tell him and manhandle him. Unbuttoning his shirt, I rip it off him. With the fabric open, now I get to trace the perfectly sculpted lines that outline each lean muscle. Under my palm, I feel his heart pounding. I smooth my hands all over him and then push his arms from the sleeves so that he is shirtless.

Cam puts his mouth to my ear and with a low, husky voice tells me, “Stand up and take your clothes off. I need to feel you.”

His words rush through me like waves at high tide. I’ve never felt such an intimate connection to anyone. And because I secretly like when he takes control, I get up and get naked.

His hands are on my hips and pulling me back to his lap. With my hands on his shoulders, I look down at him.

He has the most intense bedroom eyes I’ve ever seen. I could melt under that gaze. It doesn’t last long, though, because soon his hands are cupping my breasts and his mouth is on mine. That wicked tongue of his finds its way to mine, and as it twists and turns, all I want to do is eat him up.

After a few minutes of an intense make-out session, he lifts me off the bed, turns us around, and sets me on my feet. Kneeling in front of me, he licks his lips. Our eyes stay connected every second. Even as he guides me to the edge of the bed, even as he places my legs over his shoulders, and even as he kisses the inside of my thighs.

His eyes are still on me as he runs his fingertips up and down the backs of my thighs and places his hands behind me, pulling me closer to him. And then. Then. Oh, sweet oblivion, his face is in between my legs and his tongue is on me.

Getting right to it, he licks up my slick flesh.

Once.

Twice.

Oh, God, I’m seeing stars.

Then I have to close my eyes when his fingers open me and his tongue strokes deep inside me. There is nothing like it in the world. Category four hurricane taking place right here.

Already leaving this planet, as soon as he strokes his tongue to that area he wants me to give up to him so much, I start convulsing. My body is a trembling mess as I take off like a rocket. “Oh God, Cam,” I call out, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking me even through my orgasm, pushing me farther. Gripping my hips tightly, he licks, kisses, and laps every inch of me. I don’t even feel like my body is my own when another wave blasts through me. “Yes, oh God, yes!” I scream and when I know I have nothing left, I gently push his shoulders back. He looks up at me and I drop to the ground to sit in front of him.

I kiss him and he smiles through our kiss. “I wasn’t finished. I wanted to hear you scream my name again.”

“Oh you will, I promise.” I unbutton his pants and run my hand inside his boxers, just needing to feel him. “Take these off,” I order him. “For what I have in mind, there are no pants required.”

Getting to his feet, he quickly removes his shoes, pants, and boxers and stands there looking so incredible, his taut muscles on full display. With the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, he takes my hand and tosses me to the bed. “It’s time to fuck,” he laughs.

Laughter bubbles out of me, but he isn’t wrong—it is time to fuck. And I want to feel every inch of him, so I roll us over and hover over him. He groans and pulls me down to him. With a tongue that should be declared illegal, he traces around the shell of my ear and then whispers all the dirty things he wants to do to me for the next three days.

“Three days, that’s all?” I ask.

“You’re wicked,” he says. “I can keep you up here until Monday, then we both have to go to work. But I want you up here, naked and waiting, when I get home.”

“With your slippers and martini?” I joke.

“Preferably wet and ready for me.”

“You are such a perv,” I tell him, dragging my tongue down his neck, his chest, and then getting serious when I take him in my hands and gently stroke him.

That groan of his gets loud. Really loud. I worry he might alert the whole neighborhood that we are in here having sex.

Screw it! Who cares?

Hovering over him, I place a knee on either side of his legs and glide my lips down his stomach. My hands continue to move up and down his length and when my lips meet his tip, he shudders. I lose myself in the moment. This is the intimacy that I’ve missed. But when my mouth covers him, he pulls me up.

Crashing down onto his hard chest, I press my naked body into his and peek up at him. “Why’d you stop me?”

He lets out a sigh and another loud groan. “I want to be inside you when I come.”

I move my mouth to his ear so I can whisper, “You can be.”

“I will be,” he growls, and then molds my breasts with his palms before moving my hips.

Elation sweeps through me as he easily slips in. His hands move to my backside, pressing me into him. When I fold my knees beneath myself and sit up, he lets out a long, tortured groan.

Control freak in bed that he is, when I try to control the pace by interlocking my fingers with his on either side of his head, he just grins and shakes his head.

That’s okay. I just rock into him over and over, rolling my hips. Before long, his hands are on me. But you see, I got this.

Leaning back, I rest my palms on his knees and move slowly, rising just far enough so we both feel the thrill of him sliding back inside. With every passing moment, I sink faster and deeper but stay close. My pulse pounds with excitement. Before I know it, he’s clutching my legs, focusing on my every move. Our eyes meet, and we are hypnotized by each other’s expressions of pure pleasure. When I reach between us and alternate stroking and squeezing whatever flesh I can get my hands on, he groans and curses so loud I lose myself.

Continuing with this rapid pace, I feel nothing but complete bliss. The pressure builds swiftly and I am quickly on the brink of climaxing again. It’s heavenly.

Unexpectedly, he pulls me to his chest and seals his lips to mine, thrusting his hips up. Breathing heavily, I know he’s close. He rolls us over, never breaking our connection. Pulling my hands over my head, he takes control and it’s perfect.

I watch as his body flexes rhythmically with mine. He moves faster, kissing me furiously. I’m pushed over the edge the second his tongue hits the roof of my mouth. “Oh God yes, Cam, yes!” I scream once again and he stills, shouting my name as my waves of ecstasy bring on his climax.

When we are both spent, we fall into each other’s arms and cuddle close together. “I love you, Cam,” I say.

“I love you, Makayla. I love every single thing about you.”

I can’t contain my smile. “I missed you,” I whisper.

He smiles at me and palms my behind. “I missed you too, and this hot little body of yours.”

Feeling extremely thirsty, I reach for the open water bottle on my nightstand from last night. I can’t believe I forgot to bring it down with me this morning. Oh well, turns out to be a win for me. As I rise on his hard muscles, I catch sight of our novel next to it. “Book club?” I ask, grabbing the water bottle.

Cam glances at the nightstand and grabs Summer’s Ménage before I can. “Yes. We have to finish this. I’m dying to see how it ends.”

“Me, too,” I tell him, flopping onto the pillow beside him.

Cam eyes me. “Did you read it without me?”

“No, I swear.”

He’s still looking at me.

“I didn’t.”

“I’m going to choose to believe you because good girls don’t lie,” he tells me, and opens the book.

Not sure about me being a good girl anymore, but I’ll go with it.

Getting cozy, I snuggle beside him. I really have missed the sound of his voice, so much caramel oozing down a hot fudge sundae.

The window is open and there’s a cool breeze coming inside. Cam pulls the sheets over us and holds the book up. “‘It was the last day of summer, and Summer took a moment to look at the sprawling property that stood on the South Shore of Long Island. She took a cautious sip of her wine and tried not to think about going back to the city. To her life of social obligations. To her husband.’”

My eyes snap to the page. Did he read that right?

Cam choked out the last word. “She’s married?”

“There must be a reason she goes to the Hamptons alone, though?”

“Yeah, obviously her husband doesn’t meet her needs. Must be a workaholic.”

I bump his shoulder. “You don’t know that. Keep reading.”

“‘The off-the-shoulder cocktail dress drew attention to her breasts, and she knew it. Tonight she would say goodbye to both her lovers. Gabe, the sinful bad boy with the “I don’t give a fuck” attitude that drove her wild, and her sweet Owen, the one who made sure her every desire was met. Taking two lovers was something to think about for next summer. Would she do it again? She’d decide when the night was over.’” Cam pauses and looks over at me. “Told you she likes Gabe better.”

I nip at his shoulder. “You do not know that. Nowhere on the page does it say that.”

“Let’s see who she says goodbye to first.”

“Let’s,” I say.

Shifting on the bed, he starts to read again. “‘Both Gabe and Owen were waiting for her in the dining room, in the tuxedos and cuff links that she had purchased for them. She nearly lost her breath. Earlier they’d dined on lobster and drank the finest wine. She’d admired their good looks then, but now, tipsy on wine and fueled by desire, they looked edible. Which was good, because tonight they would fuck on the dining room table. Why? Because they could.’”

Cam pauses and looks at me. “Would you let me fuck you on the dining room table?”

I laugh. “Sure, if we had one.”

He raises a curious brow. “And you’d eat on it after?”

I rise on one elbow. “Let me think about that. I’ll get back to you later.”

He laughs. “You do that.”

“Just read.”

“Okay. Okay,” he laughs. “‘Summer circled her men like they were prey. Looked at them. Appraised them. Waited for one to break. Tonight, neither did. Good boys deserved to be rewarded, and that’s what she did. She pushed each back against the table and one at a time unzipped their pants. They were fully erect, but she knew they would be. Her breasts showcased like they were as she moved around them guaranteed that. She ordered them to sit on the table and then bowed her head over Owen’s lap. With her mouth around Owen’s cock, her hand found Gabe’s and she stroked him.’”

Cam coughs a little. “That’s a lot of dick.”

“Oh, God, Cam, stop with commentary—I need to know how this ends.”

Cam stretches out on the bed fully and puts an arm behind his head. “‘Summer didn’t hold back as she brought Owen to orgasm, and then Gabe. Now, it was her turn. She stripped out of her fancy dress and lay naked in the center of the table. Gabe and Owen circled her. She was theirs for the taking, to do with what they wanted. She wouldn’t tell them what to do. Not tonight. It was her departing gift to them. No rules. All summer she had never allowed them both to fuck her pussy in the same night. They had to take turns. Tonight they would both get to penetrate her pussy. Summer was surprised when Owen hovered over her first. She had thought Gabe would take the lead. She was happy Owen did. He had grown this summer. Become more confident. He fucked her, soft and sweet as he was. She came in a state of calm oblivion, and she wanted to remember it. It would have to last her until next summer. Gabe didn’t give her much time to recover as he mounted her minutes after Owen came. He was wild and rougher, normally, but tonight he was just intense. He had learned patience. He thrust into her, hard and fast, and she wanted to come so much her muscles leaped. Unlike Owen, he drew it out. If she were in charge, she’d have ordered him to fuck her faster and make her come. Still, she came soon enough and pleasure rocketed through her.’”

“Wow,” I comment, fanning myself.

“Yeah, wow,” Cam repeats.

Desire fills my room as sure as the words from the page do.

Sighing, he turns the page. “Last chapter.”

“Already?”

He nods and gives me a little squeeze. “‘The summer was over. It had flown by. Summer never allowed the men to kiss her, and tonight was no different. The only rule she kept in place. There would be no goodbye kisses. She stood at the door as the car drove up to take the men back to town, where she’d found them months ago. As they walked away, they talked to each other and Summer could hear them. They talked about going for a drink, which made the corners of her mouth tilt up. And then the men talked about next summer, about looking for a woman to share, which made Summer wistful. But they knew she wouldn’t be with them again; she’d made that clear. It would be too messy. Once Summer closed the door, she leaned against it and smiled. It was time to see her husband. She missed him. Bedridden and paralyzed from a skiing accident that took place ten years ago, he was still the love of her life. Unable to do anything that someone didn’t do for him, he was dependent on a team of people. Every summer his mother came to stay with him, and Summer spent that time at their summer home. Taking a summer lover had been his idea. Two as well. He’d even suggested three—one for each month. For variety. He hated that he couldn’t satisfy her. Yet, he did just by suggesting this. Next summer, she’d take two lovers again, but perhaps not at once. She liked having the good with the bad. They were traits her husband had once exhibited, and although he didn’t see it, still did. In fact, maybe she’d take three for added variety as he suggested. Summer wasn’t certain about that. She’d have to think about it. Then again, she had a whole year to decide. Didn’t she?’”

I bolt up with tears in my eyes. “I so didn’t expect that.”

Cam reaches over me and sets the book on the nightstand. “Yeah, that was…I don’t know. Different than I expected.”

“Good different?”

“Yeah, good different.”

Emotion in my throat, I say, “I liked it.”

Cam kisses me. “I’m not so sure I could be as unselfish as Summer’s husband.”

I look into his eyes. “I think he loves her and wants her to have what he can’t give her. He knows she loves him. I think he’s more secure than unselfish.”

Cam kisses me again. “You know, I think you might be right.”

“What?” I gasp in mock surprise.

His lips slide down my throat, and the vibration of his laughter feels so good. “Yes, I said it. You heard me. Now, moving on . . .” He kisses the tip of my breast. “Do you think Summer’s Ménage Two is out yet?”

My head falls back. “I’m not sure, but I’ll look tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” he murmurs, licking around my nipple.

“I like that,” I whisper. “Do it again, a little lower.”

As if practicing being obedient, he obliges. Then he moves lower, and lower still, making me squirm in the most delicious way. And he doesn’t stop there.

Later, when we finish for the second time, he takes me in his arms and holds me tight. Cuddled up against the heat of his body, I can’t stop thinking about Summer and how completely she and her husband loved each other.

Realization dawns. I think I was wrong before. You don’t love someone and set him free to see if he comes back to you.

You hold on tight and never let go.

And that’s just what I intend to do.