I take a bite of the pastry, my eyes closing because I hadn’t realized how starved I’d been.
Camden watches me scarf the food down, taking the trash from me and setting it down on the nightstand as soon as I’m done. We stare at each other for a few moments before he sighs.
“Scoot over. I’m going to lay with you to make sure nothing happens.”
“I’ve got a fever. What do you think is going to happen to me?”
He doesn’t wait for permission. His long legs are pushing against mine as he forces his way into my bed.
“Camden!” I scold, shoving against his hip. “This is my bed and my sick day. You can’t just barge in.”
“Sure I can.” He slides an arm underneath my body, pulling me into his chest. The movement stuns me.
I’m pretty sure Camden Hunter is cuddling me. And I’m fairly confident I love it.
“Any more arguments?” he quips, reaching across the bed for the discarded remote. He begins to flip through Netflix as I stare up at him, my cheek still pressed into his chest.
“Uh…” I don’t know what to say. I like feeling his body pressed against mine. I like the comforting way his fingers play with my hair. It’s tender, making my heart leap inside my chest. I don’t know if he even realizes he’s doing it.
His chest rises and falls with a deep breath, moving me with it. “Look, shortcake. I think you and I are a lot alike in some ways when it comes to the way we run our businesses. I know you must’ve felt terrible to take a day off work, so just let me stay here and take care of you, okay? Please?”
All I can do is nod because the emotion clogging my throat is overwhelming. His words mean too much to me, and it terrifies me.
I think between all of the arguments, I’ve started to develop feelings for him. At first, I thought it was sexual attraction, but there’s nothing sexual happening between us right now, and he has my pulse racing.
Before I can think too much into it, my eyes flutter shut as I fall into the best sleep of my life—nestling deeper into the chest of a man I have no business developing feelings for.
31
CAMDEN
I’m deep into reorganizing my email inbox when Pippa finally stirs against me. I look down, finding her eyes still closed as she gets more comfortable, draping a leg over me.
We’ve been in this same position for two hours. I’ve watched two complete episodes of Supermarket Stakeout and am well into a third episode, and she’s barely moved a muscle during all of it.
My arm tingles, needing to move to get some blood flow, but I don’t want to risk waking her up. Her body clearly needs rest, and I’d sit here all day feeling like my arm might fall off if it meant she’d stay sound asleep.
I don’t know if I’ve ever held still for so long. It isn’t in my nature to sit on my phone and do nothing. Every now and then, my gaze drifts to her as I allowed my eyes to drink her in without her knowing.
She’s breathtaking, in a way that’s both quiet and loud. She doesn’t have any makeup on, yet her features are striking. The upturned nose, full, slightly parted lips. Her eyelashes dance along the apples of her cheeks. Every time I look, I want to run my thumb along her cheekbone, but I fight the urge so I don’t wake her.
She’s stunningly beautiful in a way that makes my chest hurt. I want to capture her features forever so I can carve them into stone later. People would stare in awe at it, marveling at how the closer they get, the more she’ll steal the air from their lungs.
I keep lying to myself that I’m here because it’s the decent thing to do. But I’m not a decent man. I’ve done ruthless things in my life if it worked out best for me. But when it comes to her, I can’t stay away. It isn’t because I’m a nice guy. It’s because she has a magnetic pull that I can’t deny, not that I’ve been any good at attempting to fight it.
It’s a catastrophic thought to think that the pull I feel toward Pippa isn’t just surface level. I’d love to blame it on the way it felt to have my cock down her throat, my fingers buried in her pussy, the anticipation of finally sliding into her and pushing her body’s limits.
But it’s much more dangerous than that.
Pippa Jennings—the woman I yelled at the moment we met—is stealing pieces of my cold, black heart. She’s breathing life back into it, and I don’t have it in me to fight, even when I know it can’t end well. I didn’t come here today because I wanted something from her. I wanted to be around her. I wanted to take care of her. And I can’t think too deeply into what all of that means.