Page 89 of The Backup Plan
The energy in his hands set her tingling as they roved her body. When she pulled back from his kiss to catch her breath, he nipped at her neck and a jolt of lust went down her spine when he pressed her to the wall.
Holding tight to him with jittering hands, she fought every desire to drag him down to the floor. It would be too much, too fast, too soon, too something, especially for a girl who just called it quits with his friend.
But the ache that rose inside her pulled her hands under his T-shirt again without thinking, and after a second, she gave in and pulled it over his head, sending his orange hat tumbling to the floor with the shirt.
She stared.
Cam poked his stomach and smiled, glasses slightly askew. “A little chunky for a quarterback. Believe me, I’ve heard.”
“I bet I know who said that. You tell Shelby she’s the one with vision problems.”
He prodded his stomach again, then moved a hand quickly to his head to flatten his hair when he realized his hat was gone. “I did not prepare well for this,” he laughed. Leaning close, he stroked her cheek. “Beautiful girl, you have me at a disadvantage. But the smooshy belly and messy hair are all yours, if you want me.”
“I want you. Cameron Porter, you have no idea how attractive you are to me.”
Dancing her fingers over his skin—the chiseled curves of his shoulders, over the dark curls on his chest and down where a thin trail of hair guided her hands lower—she breathed him in as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Holding him close in the studio ignited her, and her body screamed to just keep taking—taking everything off him, taking him inside her and obsessing his mind and heart, just taking the way she did when need overwhelmed her. For weeks she basked in the comfortable warmth of the sparks between them, quietly battling the desire to dive headfirst into the flames like she had before. It’s better this way, she told herself every time she watched him disappear after an hour of talking and not touching. The slow burn. Get it right, and you won’t scare him off.
Then he leaned into another kiss, and with a twist of his hand with a fistful of her hair, the last of her resolve buckled with her knees. “You could even the playing field,” she whispered, guiding his hand to the hem of her shirt.
He wasted no time stripping it over her head. “I like close games,” he murmured into her neck before catching the strap of her bra between his teeth. Tugging it over her shoulder, he squeezed a hand between her and the wall and unclasped the back. Avery gasped when the heat of his mouth met her breasts as his lips teased her nipples into stiffness.
Kneeling before her, Cam undid the button of her jeans and spread his discarded shirt on the thin carpet. “Come down here,” he whispered, tugging her hands. “You’re melting me, Avery.”
She lowered herself to the floor and into his arms. The tease of him straining against her raised the heat in her blood. When he rolled on top of her, her mouth watered for the taste of him, the burn in her cheeks giving away her thoughts. He would read her eyes faster than a playbook and know precisely what she wanted.
Cam loosened her jeans and slid them down. “You destroyed me in those little dresses, you know. Some nights, it felt like you were taunting me with these legs, and I wanted…”
He trailed off and leaned into a kiss, nudging his fingers upward, and smiling at the slickness already between her thighs.
“What did you want?”
“I wanted to sit you on the counter and wrap your legs around me, leaving you wide open under that little dress in a room full of people, but where only I could see or feel you.”
“In front of everybody?” She shivered at the twitch of his fingers.
“Yes. I want to slide my fingers inside you and make you try to keep a straight face. I want secrets with you. Avery, I am so fucking hungry for you, and I was sick with jealousy.”
Her heart thudded. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”
“I know. But the idea of touching you where anyone could see us isn’t going anywhere.”
“I wore yoga shorts under those dresses so I didn’t flash anybody.”
He shook his head. “You won’t wear anything under them when we go together.”
The picture he painted with only a few words imprinted on her eyes, and she saw them, lost in each other’s lips and hands, and surrounded by a crowd of people. Her breath caught in her throat as her fingers flew over the drawstring and the waist of his warm-up pants. The deep groan he released shook his body. He tightened his hand in her hair again. “Please,” he whispered. “I need you to touch me.”
She grazed her thumb along his waist and slipped her hand lower.
A noisy conversation outside the door breached the soundproofing, and they froze in each other’s arms until the voices faded.
“Oh my God, Cam.”
“What?” His eyes darted around the tiny room.
Crass jokes and girlish giggles about length were consigned to dust when a girth she couldn’t close her hand around sent her pulse into orbit—and sent the dismal, practical part of her brain thinking there was no way that would work in a stolen moment in a practice room.
She’d need him too much, too fast, and that sort of thing never ended well, anyway.