It was so good that for a few moments, I can’t talk. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t do anything but get swept up in the way my entire body feels lit with desire.
Nothing has ever felt that intense. It feels even better when my eyes finally flutter open and I find him staring right at me.
I feel powerful knowing I’m the reason Camden looks imperfect right now. He’s on his knees, my cum all over his face. His hair sticking out in every direction where my fingers pulled at the dark locks. His wrinkled shirt from where I clung to him, trying to hold him closer. The outline of his large, thick cock. Every messy, out-of-place part of him right now is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
My chest heaves up and down as I try to recover from the intensity of the orgasm—the intensity of the moment. It was so powerful that for once in my life, I’m speechless.
Camden must be feeling the same way. He stares back at me, his shoulders rising and falling in quick, successive breaths.
Moments ago, the room was filled with our moans. Now, the only sounds are our loud inhales and exhales as we both recover.
I can’t look away from his crystal-blue eyes. They’ve got me in a trance. Or maybe it’s because I’m still reeling from what just happened. Either way, he’s the first one to look away.
He stands to his full height, giving no indication of what he’s thinking when he runs his hand through his hair.
“That was definitely more than two minutes,” I tease, knowing damn well he kept his word. My words do nothing to ease the sizzling tension between us. If anything, his fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose throw cold water over us.
I’m about to brave reaching out to touch him, my body aflame with the need to get familiar with him. His cock seems to agree with the way it angrily fights the fabric of his slacks, just begging to join in on the fun.
He beats me to it. Except instead of closing the distance between us, he rips the front door open and bolts.
I stare out at the walking path in front of us, watching his figure disappear, shame creeping over my skin.
27
CAMDEN
I can’t get away from her fast enough.
I’m completely fucked, and even as I bust into the front doors of the gallery and put distance between Pippa and me, I’m scared that no amount of distance can rid the memory of what just happened.
It was achingly, frustratingly perfect. She’s perfect—except for the fact I’ve made an ass of myself to her and she can’t stand me unless my tongue is milking an orgasm from her.
I attempt to suck in air, to calm myself from just having one of the best sexual experiences of my life—and she didn’t even touch me. All I did was have the chance to make her come all over my tongue, and nothing has ever destroyed me more.
She’s exceptional. And I ran away from her, leaving her completely exposed as I escaped her presence. I’ve already given her enough to make her not like me, leaving her partially naked as I ran out of her shop probably didn’t help things.
I couldn’t help it. I had to get away before I pushed every boundary and demanded even more from her. Every fiber of my being wants to fuck her, to make her mine and pull orgasm after orgasm from her until I can rewrite the beginning of our story—or at least make her forget all of the messy, heated arguments that have happened between us.
I’ve never regretted being an asshole until now. I’d do anything to switch our fate by changing our beginning. I wouldn’t be a dick when we collided at the stupid bar. I wouldn’t call her names when she ran into me. I wouldn’t have bought the gallery if I knew she wanted it for her own business.
There are so many things I’d redo if I could, but I can’t, and I hate it because no woman has ever gotten underneath my skin the way she has.
“Fuck,” I yell, slamming the door behind me. My footsteps echo off the floor as I pace around the gallery.
I bow my head, wondering how the hell I’m going to get myself out of the mess I’ve created.
I should’ve never kissed her. Going further back, I should’ve never asked for her help. Maybe if we hadn’t been pushed together by her silly idea to get me to appreciate this small town, I wouldn’t be giving in to temptation when it comes to her.
My shoulders stiffen when the front door is pushed open. A smacking sound fills the room moments before the door closes. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
I can feel her.
“Leave,” I plead, knowing my voice doesn’t sound convincing. It sounds weak and resigned.