TWENTY-FOUR
Cammie
“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this. I feel as though I should have a different car, be wearing a wig or something.” I glance around the streets as we wait to turn left, but nobody seems to pay any mind to my distinctive BMW.
“Relax,” Duke says with a laugh. “You’re so on edge all the time. What are your employers going to do if they find out you’re not actually sick? You’re entitled to use those days however you like, you know.”
“I know.” I sigh and shift the gears as we head toward the first stop on my fly-by tour of Burbank. “I don’t like letting people down, is all. I feel like I’m being dishonest.” I glance across at him as he reclines in the passenger seat. “This is paramount to shoplifting for me, you realise?”
“Chill, woman.” He rolls his head my way, gracing me with a wide smile.
To think that he would only give me a slight smirk at the start, and yet he hid that gorgeous smile all along. Makes me feel even more special that I get to receive one.
“What’s the plan, Stan?” Duke asks, straightening up in his seat as we turn into the public parking area next to the riverbank. “What are we going to do here?”
“Go for a walk.” I bring the car to a stop under the overhanging branches of an oak and switch it off. “It’s not far. Like, literally just to the riverbank.”
He seems satisfied with the idea, and gets out. I snag a bottle of water from my bag before locking the car, and then pocket the keys. Duke stands a little distance away from the car, hands in his pockets as he stares over his head at the branches of the tree.
“What are you doing?”
He breaks from his trance and reaches for my hand. “Something I used to do with Piata when we were bored on patrol.”
“Piata?”
He swallows, his jaw flexing as he stares ahead. “He was my best mate. We trained together, ended up in the same unit.”
“Was,” I echo.
He doesn’t say any more about the guy, but I get the distinct feeling Piata was one of the casualties in the attack that maimed Duke.
“Anyway,” he says, sucking in a deep breath as we head for the riverbank. “Because the sky was more often than not bluer than blue, we couldn’t fuck around making shapes in the clouds. So we’d make shapes between the leaves of the trees. Same principle.”
“You must have been bored to do that,” I say.
“Insanely so. There’s sweet fuck-all to look at in the more remote parts. We could travel for hours without seeing another person. It was eerie to begin with, like driving through a ghost town.” He jerks his chin at the river as we come to a stop where the gravelled car park runs out. “What’s special about this place?”
“Nothing really. It’s just pretty here. Peaceful.” I give his hand a squeeze, making him look down at me. “I thought you might appreciate the quiet.”
The smile that spreads across his lips and stays there is nothing short of heart-warming.
I end up taking Duke for a walk along the riverbank, pointing out where my friends and I would come as kids in school to swim in the summer months. He appreciates everything I tell him, listening intently as I recount happier times. Times when I was young and had the whole world at my feet, when I wasn’t so shaped by the choices I eventually made.
When I was simply me and not my mistakes.
The day disappears in the blink of an eye, our travels taking us back to Donna’s café. His company makes me relaxed enough to not care what anyone thinks if they see me on my day off. Like he told me, I’m entitled to them, so why not enjoy the day? We grab a bite to eat and take it with us, ending the tour of my home town at the lookout near the summit of the mountain everybody in Burbank has conquered at least once. The trek is like a rite of passage for anyone who grew up around here, to have made it to the top without passing out. Four hundred and seventy metres, damn near straight up. They don’t have ropes on the track for no reason.
Which is why today we drove to the top—took the easy option.
“I forgot how amazing the view is from up here.” I lean back against the windscreen, our afternoon snack laid out between us on the hood of my car as we kick back and enjoy the sight.
Duke stretches out, folding his arms behind his head to give me the best view of his incredible physique. “When was the last time you came and parked up here?”
“Gosh, not since I had Taylah.” I’d park at the base and walk the track every couple of months to keep my fitness in check, challenge myself.
But motherhood has that sneaky way of absorbing all your free time without you even thinking about it, and before I realised exactly how little I got for myself, I’d gained fifteen kilograms and consigned myself to a life of stretchy waistbands and comfortable footwear.
Taylah was my only concern, and as long as she was happy, I was happy, and in turn, Jared was happy. At least, I thought he was. I sometimes wonder, with how quickly our relationship broke down, if perhaps he wasn’t. Was Taylah’s death simply a catalyst for something that already lurked beneath the pretty exterior of our relationship?
“We should do the track before you go,” I say, rolling awkwardly to my side so I can face Duke.
He picks at the sausage roll laid out on the paper bag between us, tipping his head to the side. “I guess we could do it on the weekend.”
“Sunday,” I confirm. “Because Saturday I’m in the theatre all day.”
“Deal.”
A while passes where neither of us say a thing, too busy picking at our food and staring out at the patchwork of green that covers the flat farmland beyond. Yet I don’t feel uncomfortable in our silence. With most people, the lack of conversation gets to me, niggles at my subconscious until I feel panicked into saying something, picking up where the dialogue left off in case the other person is bored by my presence. But with Duke, I feel as though he doesn’t expect anything of me. As though the sheer fact we’re here together, sharing this amazing view, is enough.
Duke scrunches up the rubbish and twists to his side, reaching around the car to toss the bag in the open passenger’s window with a flick of his wrist. I lick my fingers, eyeing his body as he elongates himself. The guy is seriously smoking hot, and I have to bite down on my finger to remind myself that this isn’t some fatigue-induced dream.
“Satisfied?” he asks as he rolls onto his back, his head turned my way.
So much. “Feeling good. Thanks.”
He extends his closest arm to me, gesturing for me to scoot closer. I slide across the warm metal and tuck myself against his side, resting my head on his bicep. He hums, a melodic sound from deep in his chest, and closes his eyes. “This is nice.”
I close my eyes also, inhaling the woody scent of the forest around us mixed with Duke’s musky cologne. If perfection could be defined as a moment, a coming together of the senses, this would be it: Duke’s smell, the warmth of the dying afternoon sun on my back, his heartbeat beneath my hand, and the sound of the birds as they move through the trees. It’s perfect harmony, inside and out.
I relish the peace it brings me, loving the way we don’t need to speak to enjoy each other’s company. I let my eyes slip closed and tuck into Duke a little tighter as I allow myself to relax completely. Before long I’m fighting the pull of sleep, sated and warm against his side.
“What time do you have to be at the theatre?” Duke asks quietly, his eyes still closed.
I prop myself up on one elbow and look at his gorgeous face as he relaxes in the sun. “Half five.” His lashes are dark, his cheekbones strong. He has a classically masculine appearance that adds to his intensity when he watches me with those rich brown eyes of his.
I’ve never liked being the centre of attention all that much, but I find that as I stare at Duke, wishing he’d open his eyes and look at me, that that gaze of his is what I appreciate the most. The way he looks at me as though I’m the sole focus of his attention, the centre of his world—while he’s here in Burbank, at least. Knowing he’s leaving, that the feeling won’t last? It hurts. Still, I choose not to ruin the now with the what-ifs of the future.
I lean in and place a kiss to his cheek, adding another to his lips. He comes to life as he reciprocates, his lips teasing mine with quick, short sweeps. I pull back to find his eyes open, that chest-warming gaze fixed squarely on me. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”
“As long as you think so, what does it matter if I know it or not?” I’m sceptical, sure he’s wrapped up in a bubble of lust that won’t last. But hey, I’m not going to stop him if he chooses to see only the best parts of me for now.
Duke reaches up, tucking my hair behind my ear. His fingers linger on the side of my neck, the very tips dancing a line between my earlobe and collarbone. It’s soft, sweet, and so damn sensual.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For making me take the day off. I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed out on around here until you made me stop to look at it all again.” I drop to my shoulder, tucking in tight to his side again.
“You notice a lot when you pause long enough for everything to stop spinning.”
“That you do.” Like how I’ve kept myself shut off from love, thinking I could never deserve to feel that kind of tender connection again.
Jared was the one to walk, but I handed him my heart to take with him. If he didn’t want it, neither did I. But at the time, I was heartbroken, and I couldn’t see how I’d ever have need for it again.
Not until now.
“We better get moving if we’re going to cook you something better than pancakes for dinner again.” Duke silently chuckles under my touch.
“Don’t dis the fare, man,” I tease. “Those pancakes sustained me for most of my twenties.”
He shifts, jostling the arm underneath me until he lies on his side, propped up on one elbow. “How old are you, Cam? That’s one thing we’ve never discussed.”
“How old do you think I am?” I love this game …
He traces my cheekbones with his thumb, his eyes roving over my face. “You seem like an old soul, so I’m going to guess … mid-twenties.”
He can stay. “Thirty, as of two months ago.”
“Huh.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Although, seeing how your mum’s aged, I should have known you’d be older than you appear.” He grins. “Your turn. What about me, smartarse?”
I twist my lips to the side. “Hmm …” He has lines around his eyes, and his skin is tanned, as though he sees a lot of sun. But how much of that came from serving overseas in a dry and arid climate? “Mid-thirties?”
He slams a hand to his chest, hissing air in between his teeth. “She slays me.”
“You dork,” I say on a laugh. “Tell me then.”
“Close. Thirty-two.”
“What’s the big deal?” I tease. “Not as though I said you were forty or anything.”
“Would it matter if I was?” He cocks an eyebrow, walking his fingers from my bellybutton up between my breasts to tap me on the chin.
“No. Not at all.” I smirk. “You’d make a sexy sugar daddy, I reckon.”
The chuckle that rumbles from deep in his chest warms me. It’s the most natural, most beautiful sound.
“I don’t know how I feel about you calling me ‘daddy’, babe. Not really my thing.”
“Oh yeah?” I wriggle my shoulders back into the hood of the car, making my tits pop. “What is?”
His gaze drops to my chest. Bingo. “That’s an intimate conversation you’ve started, Cam.”
I run my hands up his chest, squeezing the muscles in his shoulders. “I do believe we were relatively intimate last night, Duke, so surely it doesn’t matter.”
His lips tilt up in that grin I fell so hard for the first day we met, as he looks at me with hooded eyes. “I guess not.”
“Then tell me,” I dare him. “What’s your thing, soldier?”
“The connection.” His palm skates a lazy path around my neck. “Getting lost in the moment, in the person.”
Damn, it’s hot out here.
“Doesn’t matter how the act is done,” he tells me in a low, husky tone. “As long as I forget where I am, time, everything—that’s what makes sex good.”
Why the fuck did I start this conversation out in the open? Holy shit. I swallow, fighting as my throat sticks. The way he looks at me right now, as though he could devour me … damn.
“Did you?” I murmur. “Last night?”
“Feel that connection?” he asks as he dips his head to leave hot kisses on my neck.
I arch my back, my eyes closed as he palms my side. “Yeah.”
Duke’s thumb slides along the ridge of my underwire, slow, precise, torturous. “What do you think, Cam?”
“Yes,” I barely manage to breathe out. “Yes, you did.” His bottom lip drags a line from the base of my throat to the point of my chin. “We did.”
“Damn straight.” He takes my mouth with his, a hungry, dominant kiss that tells me I’m all his. If only it was enough to make him stay.
“As much as I’d love to repeat last night,” he murmurs, “I’ve got more respect for you than to do it out here.”
I sigh in frustration as he pushes himself off me, lying to the side.
“We should get back before those dark clouds turn nasty,” he says, jerking his chin at the now grey and formidable sky. “Get you ready for your show.”
Have a cold shower, more like. “Yeah. We should.”
I slide off the hood with another sigh, unable to hold back my frustration any longer at how quickly this week is passing us by. If Duke notices, he chooses not to say anything, slipping off the side of the hood without a word. We get in the car, the tension from our snatched kisses still thick in the air as I turn the key in the ignition.
Duke slides down the seat as I make my way onto the road, assuming what I’ve come to know as his position: one foot propped on the side of the centre console. He rolls his head over to look at me, but I don’t glance across, watching at him in my periphery instead. If I look at him and catch that smile one more time, I’m liable to cry. Why do I have to find such a perfect guy when he’s got a life elsewhere, when our time together has an expiration date?
I’ve never been one to complain that things aren’t fair, but this right here? It’s so fucking unfair I want to stop the car and shout it from the roof.
“Tell me what it is that got you into theatre.” Duke nudges my leg with his hand, clearly doing his best to break me from my state of self-loathing.
And as much as I hate to admit it, it kind of works. The simple sound of his voice, the soft way in which he shows me he’s genuinely interested in what I have to say—it calms me.
“Mum and Dad,” I say. “They met doing a show for their college. He was crew, and she was the leading lady. The sweet irony is, over the years, the roles reversed—Mum ended up backstage, and Dad took to the spotlight. I grew up running under the feet of their drama club, so it was only natural that I got roped in when I was old enough to sling stuff around.” I glance across at him, hoping that was enough to satisfy his need to break the silence. For once, this chatty girl just wants to wallow in pitiful silence. I’m going to miss this guy, and if simply thinking about how much that is going to hurt pains me like it does now, then how the hell am I going to feel when he actually drives that rat-shit car away for good?
“It’s pretty cool that your whole family is into it.” His eyes wrinkle just the slightest bit at the sides, and I know he thinks he’s got me lured me into more conversation.
The bastard’s right. As morose and crappy as I feel right now, I can’t help it. I’m a conversationalist—it’s what I do.
“Not quite right. Dad doesn’t do it anymore. He gave up about the time they split. Sort of awkward, showing your face in your group of friends when everyone knows the reason for the divorce.” I chuckle as I prepare for the next bit. “He left with his tail between his legs.”
“Why did they split?”
“Affair. There was this woman who came out to our little Podunk town here to fill a vacant spot on the cast. She was from one of the big production houses in town.” I pause to take a breath, the basic thought of that woman making my blood boil. “Anyway, I remember her because her perfume always made me gag; I was about seven at the time. Dad got busted helping her with more than a costume change between scenes, if you catch my drift.”
“That’s pretty shit,” he says.
“Yeah.” I shrug, flexing my hands on the steering wheel. “But better to be confronted with the issue and deal with it than have him sneaking around for years, right? I mean, as much as it hurt to know, I was always thankful that I knew exactly why Jared left. I would have hated for him to get away with it for years, for him to have the chance to waste my life away like that. At least—even though it’s taken me a while to regain myself—I have the chance to move on.” With you.
Duke says nothing, simply staring at me, his hair all messed up where it’d dragged down the seat in his slump. “I guess. Being overseas would mess with my head sometimes, make me wonder what was gong on back at home, you know?”
“You didn’t trust your wife?”
He frowns before looking away. “Yeah, I trusted her. That’s why I felt so shit about still wondering, being jealous like that. It wasn’t fair on her when she never did a thing to give me reason to worry.”
“It must have been hard on her, huh? Having you away for so long?”
“It was hard on both of us.” He falls silent, staring at the road ahead for a while before he continues. “Still, that stuff is in the past. I don’t want to be thinking about it when I’m here spending the day with you.” He reaches across, taking my hand closest to him in his.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I whisper, afraid that if I don’t say it now he’ll never truly know how deeply the thought cuts at me.
“I know.”
We continue on in silence, Duke seemingly lost in his thoughts as he stares out the side window, and me trapped in a battle between wanting to let go of his hand, wanting to cry if I don’t, and wanting to hold on.
The first spots of rain hit the windscreen as I slow for my driveway, a sickness laying root in my gut at the thought that another day is almost at a close. The sickness turns to nausea when we near the house and find a black truck already parked outside.
“Shit.” I stop the car, Duke ramrod straight in the passenger seat beside me.
“Is that who I think it is?”
“Jared.” I pull the keys out as the man in question steps off the porch.
Duke’s out of the car before I can say another word. I scramble to get out, the pace at which Duke strides towards Jared unsettling.
“What are you doing here?” I call out, interjecting before Duke can get a word in edgeways.
Jared eyes Duke from head to toe, and then walks straight past him to meet me halfway as the drizzle turns to rain. “I have a contract for you to sign.”
“For Amanda?”
“Terry.” The arsehole smirks. If Duke doesn’t deck him first, I think I might.
“I told you I wanted Amanda,” I remind him in a low, level tone that belies my rage.
“And I thought Terry was a better fit.” He thrusts the envelope, no doubt containing the contract, toward me.
I snatch it before it falls to the wet ground and then promptly throw it back at him. “Come back when you have the right one.”
Jared opens his mouth to speak, yet stops as Duke steps in between us, his back to me, one hand to Jared’s chest. “I think you should leave.”
“Get your hands off me.” Rain soaks Jared’s shirt where Duke presses it, sticking the navy cotton to his hard chest.
I step out of the way as Duke lifts his hands and backs away with a tip of his head. “No problem, mate. But if I hear about you making Cam upset again, my hands on you is going to be the least of your worries.”
“Are you threatening me?” Jared crumples his face up, making out he can’t believe what he just heard. He looks to me, rain dripping off his nose as he thumbs at Duke. “Did he threaten me just then, Cam?”
“I believe he did.” I turn the corners of my mouth down, lifting my eyebrows as though surprised.
The rain intensifies, running in rivers down my face, over my arms. Yet I don’t care. It’s relief, a reminder that I’m alive. I’m doing okay. I’m strong enough to stand my ground with this and not let Jared bully me into doing what he wants like he has during the past three years.
“I can’t believe this shit.” Jared bends down, snatching up the sodden envelope. “First you kill our kid, and now you refuse to move out of the house like some goddamn squatter.”
Kill our kid … “What did you say?”
Duke lunges forward, shoving a hand into Jared’s shoulder. “Get in your fucking truck and go.”
I don’t even have time to say anything as Jared draws his free arm back and throws a wayward punch at Duke. My heart leaps into my throat as Duke dodges and then promptly takes a hold of Jared’s arm, twisting it behind him. The men tussle, hair wet in their faces as Jared tries to regain the upper hand—which should be easy, given he’s taller—yet he fails. A height advantage is nothing compared to a trained fighter. Duke tangles his foot in Jared’s, effectively immobilising him unless my ex fancies a date with the driveway.
“Calm your shit, man,” Duke warns. “This doesn’t need to get out of hand.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Jared bellows, breaking free with a violent twist of his shoulders. He throws the envelope in the open door of his truck and turns back to face us both. “If these are the kinds of people you welcome into our home, Cam, then I may as well let your mum know she should plan your funeral now.” He throws a hate-filled glare at Duke. “Because with a violent arsehole like him, you’re bound to end up raped and murdered.”
Duke cracks up laughing, tossing his head back, his thumbs hooked in his jeans as Jared gets in the truck and slams the door. It unsettles my ex, which I couldn’t love more. Yet what intrigues me is that he doesn’t even appear to be doing it for show—Duke’s genuinely amused by Jared’s attitude.
The truck kicks stones up toward the house, spattering them over the veranda, yet they don’t appear to make a sound thanks to the deluge we’re now caught in.
“He come here to do that often?” Duke asks as we head the house.
“I’ve seen him more in the last month than I have in the last year.” I shake my dripping hair off my face, wiping it out of the way with my hands.
Duke takes one look at me and chuckles. “Oh, Cam.”
“What?” I fish through my bag for where I tossed the keys when I went after the men.
“You’ve got makeup from your lashes down to your jaw.”
I roll my eyes at him before I slot the key in the door. “I can imagine.” My gaze returns to him as I twist and open. “You’re not all that put together yourself, you know.”
His light grey T-shirt is drenched, sticking to the planes of his muscles, his hair dripping water onto his face that runs in slow lines down to the sharp edge of his jaw before falling to the deck.
“We going inside?” he asks quietly, drawing my attention to the fact I stand in the open doorway with my fingers still wrapped around the handle.
“Oh, shit. I mean, yeah. Of course.”
My favourite smirk returns as I step into the entrance and drop my bag. Duke shuts the door behind us as I hop around on one foot, trying to peel my sodden boots off. I manage to wrestle them into submission and drop the shoes on the floor before peeling my cardigan off as well. Silence echoes between us as I let the clothing hit the floor with a wet thwack.
“How long have you got before you need to go out again?”
“About an hour.” I turn to face Duke. “Why—”
Oh, my.
He’s stripped off his wet shirt, standing in my entrance in only his soaked jeans with his belt and the button of his jeans undone.
“I thought I should take them off so I didn’t make your carpet wet with the bottoms on the way to the laundry.” He gestures at the dark legs of his jeans, and then my hallway rug.
“Yeah.” I swallow, glancing down at the pools my leggings make on the floor. “I should probably do the same.”
Duke’s wet jeans swish across the hardwood floor as he closes the space between us in three long strides, his hands rising to my hips to lift me off the floor and carry me with him until my back finds the wall.
I hit the plaster with enough force to knock the air from my lungs, my chest burning given I don’t get a chance to draw another breath before Duke’s mouth is on mine.
Holding me in place with his hips, he brings both hands to my face, pushing my wet hair out of the way as he tilts his head and deepens our kiss. I allow his to consume me, wanting to be as much a part of him as he already is of me. He’s been inside my head since he first admitted he needed help on the roadside, so it’s only fair that I get a chance to infect him also.
Maybe then he’ll stay? Maybe if he gets enough of me, feels the way I need him here in order to keep treading water and being able to breathe, he’ll come back?
God, I hope so. Because with how deeply I’m falling in love with this man, I can only imagine the separation will tear me apart when he takes a chunk of who I am with him.
“You deserve so much more,” he mutters, his eyes closed as he presses his forehead to mine, his hands still braced against the sides of my face. “You deserve love.”
“I deserve yours,” I whisper, lifting my chin to kiss his nose.
Duke drops me to the floor, my feet only just getting under me in time to take my weight as he hooks both hands in my leggings and shoves downward, hard. I step out of the wet fabric, helping him as he yanks them off in what can only be described as murderous frustration.
He pauses to look at my thong, and frowns. “No time.”
I gasp, my arms wrapping around his shoulders on instinct as he hitches me up his body again, using one of the hands braced under my arse to hook the thin strip of fabric over my pussy aside. I reach between us, my heartbeat thundering like a marching band as I wrestle his boxers out of the way and free his hard length.
He enters me in one short, rough thrust, shunting me up the wall with determination as he drives into me over and over.
I close my eyes and moan at how full, how complete he makes me feel. His lips are hot on my neck, his tongue hotter still as he tastes the water that runs across my flesh. Duke’s forearms cage me in, pressed flat against the wall on either side of my head, and I couldn’t love that more. I feel wrapped up in him, lost in him … as though I’m his.
“So … fucking … beautiful,” he grinds out between thrusts hard enough to make the bruises that linger from last night ache. All I can do is hold on as this man destroys me in the most beautiful of ways. Hold on to my heart for fear I’ll lose it again to another man who’ll leave me when I need him most.
Duke’s legs buckle as he jerks his release, our bodies entwined as we fall to the floor. I’m so close, and he must know it, as he shuffles back, taking me with him so he can keep going missionary style on the wet timber.
The sight of this man holding me to him, the intensity in his eyes as he focuses on my pleasure—it doesn’t take long before I follow him over that cliff, diving into the deep and sinking in his embrace. Realising that as much as this man has managed to bring my life, my love back into the light, he’s also the very thing that’s going to finally kill me.