12
Shep
Thesunsatlowin the sky by the time we returned to the cabin. Cam insisted that since I’d been the one working, I should take the first shower. She took her own soon after.
I already had a chicken roasting in the oven and half the potatoes peeled when she entered the living area. She wore gray boxers, her white tank, and a khaki button-down shirt of mine, which she’d knotted at the front. Sweet Jesus, how did she make my clothes look so good?
“Can I help?” she asked, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Sure. You wanna wash the beans and shuck the corn?”
She nodded before curling her loose hair behind her ears and getting to work.
We moved about each other in a comfortable silence as we prepared the food. It didn’t take long with her help.
With the chicken almost ready and vegetables on the stove, I grabbed us two beers. We clinked bottles and both took swigs, our backs resting against the kitchen counter.
Cam gnawed on a fingernail. “Have you heard any news about Justin?”
“No.”
“I guess that’s good, right?”
I grunted and took another pull from my beer. Was it good news that Franky hadn’t found that dipshit yet? I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t mean to be short with Cam, but the more I got to know her, the more frustrated I was that I wouldn’t get to deliver Justin’s punishment myself.
She sighed. “I know you don’t think much of my brother, but Justin wasn’t always such a screw-up. He had my back when we were kids.” She sipped her beer, then stared at the bottle. “When Dad drank, he would get… angry. Justin bore the brunt of it, mostly. In fact, he made sure he did, so I wouldn’t have to. And when he was old enough to leave home, he didn’t. That house was hell for him, but he stayed to protect me until we could go together.”
Fuck. Hearing about their father’s abuse cut me up. That someone could hurt a child, their own flesh and blood, made me see red. It didn’t excuse Justin’s treatment of his sister now, though.
“I understand your loyalty, Cam, but you shouldn’t let it cloud your judgment.” As I turned to check on the vegetables bubbling away on the stove, I bumped the handle of a pot, splashing boiling water on my hand.
I hissed. “Dammit!”
“Are you all right?” Before I could answer, Cam grabbed my forearm, dragged me to the sink, and held my hand under cool running water.
“I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”
“Quit being stubborn. I’ve had enough burns from engines and exhaust pipes to know that they never seem like much at first.”
The injury was minor, but I let her fuss since she seemed determined to do so.
I watched as she turned the tap off and inspected the burn, her brow furrowed and lips pressed tight. Fingertips brushed across the reddened skin on the back of my hand.
Cam’s touch moved beyond the burn to trace over the bumps and ridges of my knuckles. The contrast between our hands was glaring. Mine were big, scarred, and ugly. Hers were slender and graceful, even if the nails were short-trimmed and a little chewed. It might have been my imagination, but I thought they trembled. What was she doing? Fuck me, the contact felt electric. Did she feel this, too?
She avoided meeting my eyes, but I was desperate to peer into those pale green pools to see what I’d find. I turned her hands over and held them in mine, rubbing slow circles over her soft palms. She drew in a sharp breath, but her focus remained on where our hands were joined.
Dammit, Cam. Look at me.
I let go of one hand to hook my index finger under her chin and tilt her face upward. What I was about to do was a bad, bad idea, but I still couldn’t stop myself.
Blood quickened through my veins. When Cam’s eyes met mine, fuck, that was my undoing. All logical thought dissolved. I wanted her. Under me, on top of me. I could think of a thousand ways to make her come, and I was eager to try them all. Never realized I was so damn inventive. I needed to see the look on her face when she was at the edge and hear the sounds coming from her mouth the moment that release tore through her. I didn’t deserve her, but that wasn’t enough to stop me from wanting it.
Her eyes flickered. She took small, panting breaths. Her pupils dilated, and yet her feet shuffled as though preparing to run. The messages were conflicting. The only thing overriding my need to press my lips to Cam’s this instant was the thought of scaring her or pushing her into something she wasn’t ready for. Because as much as I wanted to taste her, I’d never take more than she was willing to give.
She retreated one small step. It could’ve been a mile.
When her hands pulled away from mine, I tried not to let my disappointment show. Cam was making the sensible decision, and a part of me was glad one of us had the willpower to shut this down before it went too far.