The room is quiet around us. Cami is smiling up at me, something sweet and warm and sexy in her eyes. My heart is thumping in anticipation. We’re finally alone. I have her all to myself, like I’ve wanted since pretty much the first moment I saw her.
She’s mine.
I watch her smile slowly fade. We stare at each other for a long time.
I have no idea what I’m thinking. Or if I’m really thinking at all. And I certainly don’t know what Cami’s thinking.
I bend my head and brush my lips over hers. I feel them tremble. Not in passion. It’s not that kind of kiss. I don’t know what it says; I just know it’s something I want to say.
When I lean back and look into her eyes, they’re violet pools that hold some allure I’ve never encountered before. I feel like a mariner who, after months at sea, spots the bright flash of the lighthouse. I don’t want to think of anything past that. Because there can be nothing past that.
Until she speaks. And changes everything.
“I love you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - Cami
My head is fuzzy, but I know where I’m at. And who I’m with. And it makes the morning bright and full of promise, even before I open my eyes.
I smile to myself as I think of Trick, of how awesome he is, how charming and handsome and—.
An uncomfortable thought intrudes on the pleasure of the moment, like maybe something that was a part of a dream, but I can’t be sure.
After a second, it begins to feel less like a dream.
And becomes alarming instead.
Holy shit! Did I tell Trick I love him?
I squeeze my eyes shut against the thought that I’d done something so stupid.
Maybe I dreamed it. Or maybe I imagined it. I had a crapload of tequila after all.
I start praying desperately.
Please God, don’t let me have told him I love him! Please God!
Then, when I realize it’s a little late for that, I try another tactic.
Please God, don’t let him remember it. Please God, let me have mumbled. Let me have stuttered. Let me have slurred. Anything!
As hard as I can, I try to focus on the details of the night. A warm flush sweeps through me as I think of the more intimate things, the things that are much, much clearer. Trick is amazing! And I mean a-mazing!
But I probably screwed it all up by telling him I love him.
The longer I lay here thinking about it, the more certain I am that I didn’t dream the horrific deed. Or imagine it. I think it’s real. I think it really happened.
Finally, when I’m in a near panic, I get the courage to turn over and look for Trick. The way he’s acting will tell me all I need to know probably. And I’m a big girl. It’s time to face the music.
Slowly, I lean up a little and turn my head on the pillow. To my surprise, disappointment and consternation, the bed is empty. But there’s a note. I reach over and grab it from his pillow.
It reads:
Good morning, gorgeous. I’m getting coffee. BRB—
Trick.
I feel the huge smile spread over my face. That doesn’t sound like the note of someone freaked out by the premature launching of the L-word. Maybe I didn’t say it after all.
Suddenly feeling light and gleeful, I grab his pillow, pull it over my face and inhale. It smells just like him.
I lay there for a second until I realize what an idiot I’m being then I put the pillow back. Scooting quickly out of bed, I head for the bathroom to clean up before Trick gets back.
I brush my teeth and try to freshen up last night’s makeup. I put on my clothes and spray some perfume on them. They still smell like smoke.
After a couple minutes, I realize I still stink like a stale bar maid, so I turn on the shower. I might as well do it up right. If Trick gets back too soon, he can just come join me.
That thought alone makes me take my sweet time in the shower.
I get out and dress. Then put my makeup on. Then do my hair. Then undress and put lotion on and dress again. After all that, still no Trick.
Now I’m worried.
Surely he wouldn’t get freaked and bail. Surely not…
I’m perched on the edge of the bed, looking out at the perfect morning sky when I hear the lock click on the door. Trick creeps in and closes it silently behind himself. He’s carrying a bag and a tray of coffee cups. When he sees me, he stops and smiles.
“I don’t guess I need to worry about waking you.”
“No, I’ve been up for a while.”
He walks to the dresser and sets down his load then turns to the bed. He plants his fists on either side of my hips and leans in. “I can see that.” He sniffs my neck, giving me cold chills. “And smell that. You smell…edible.”
The way he says edible—his voice low, his drawl evident—brings back flashes of the night. Late. Very late. After we’d both dozed off. He woke me up kissing my stomach.
My pulse flutters with remembered excitement.
“I do?”
“Mmm,” he mumbles, kissing the corner of my mouth.
I’m torn between nervousness and desire, but nervousness wins out. I clear my throat. “So, you brought coffee?”
He leans back and I see that he’s smiling. Wryly. Another good sign.
“I brought breakfast, too. Those two losers downstairs were still sleeping, so I got us a little something. That way we can eat and head on over to the horses.”
“Perfect!” I exclaim. “I’m starving.” I squeeze past him and go for the brown paper bag.
“Wait! I’ll get it,” he says, but he’s not fast enough. I’ve already opened the bag. On top is a box of condoms. “Please don’t be insulted.”
I turn to him. “Why would I be insulted?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. It might come across as…presumptuous.”
I smile. “After last night, I don’t think that’s possible.”
He laughs. “Well, I usually keep one on me for emergencies. Because, you know, nowadays you have to boil people. But these are for you.”
“For me? What do you mean?”
He cups my face in his hands. “I mean I wouldn’t use anything if it were up to me. I’m clean. And I’m pretty sure you’re clean. I think you’d have told me otherwise. I trust you that much. And I’d give anything to feel you. Really feel you. All of you. Wrapped around me. But I’ll wait until you’re ready for that. That’s what I mean. These are for you.”
As I look up into his eyes, into the beautiful collage of pale greens and grays swirling together, those three little words bubble to my lips again.