“Where can we go?” he whispered.
As if on cue, a bottle broke, and the sounds of fighting filtered in through the opening.
“I want to roll my eyes at the triteness of it all—my high school prom after-party. I’d had a bit to drink but not too much. The boy I was seeing…” She spoke to her lap, shame leeching off her like a scent. “I didn’t say no, but I didn’t say yes. I wasn’t ready.”
Cam wanted the guy's name. He wanted to ruin him. All Miguel Ramirez could do was continue to stroke her leg with a gentle touch and say, “I’m sorry.”
“The worst part? Afterward, I said I wanted to leave. He wanted to stay and party, so I called a taxi. When I was walking to the car, he came up to me and handed me fifty dollars and said, ‘thanks for the fun night.’”
No wonder she had reacted so fiercely to his insult. Puta. On Miguel Ramirez's long list of crimes, it was a misdemeanor, but somehow in this intimate cocoon, calling her a whore felt like a capital offense. He didn’t know how she would interpret his silence, but Cam knew if he spoke, it wouldn’t be Miguel Ramirez's voice coming out of his mouth. So, instead, he continued to touch her leg gently.
“Ever since then, when men touch me with intention, I sort of panic. Maybe a bit more than panic. I doused a date with pepper spray in college when he grabbed me from behind to hug me. I spent the evening in the hospital waiting room explaining to campus security that the entire thing was a misunderstanding.” Evan laughed and shook her head. “I guess it wasn’t such a long story after all.”
Then, in a move that had his eyes flying to hers, she took his hand and moved it up her leg. “Do you, um, know what you’re doing?” she asked.
Cam squeezed her thigh.
“Could you…?” She swallowed.
“Could I what, querida?” He didn’t want to push her, but after what she just confessed, she needed to take the lead.
Just when he thought this little mouse couldn’t surprise him, she crossed her arms at her waist and pulled the T-shirt over her head. “Could you touch me more?”
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” she replied, her words sure.
As he circled each breast over her bra and ran his fingers lazily across her torso, Cam felt her body heat and arousal spread through her like an incoming tide. Her nipples were pebbled, her breaths shallow. He could imagine her toes curling inside her boots.
“If it's too much, just tell me to stop,” he breathed near the shell of her ear.
“I said yes, Miguel. Don’t treat me like damaged goods.”
Quick as a cat, Cam loomed above her. “Maybe the little mouse wants to be taken?”
He felt Evan arch into his body; then, she scraped her teeth over his chin.
“See, angel? When you offer your body, it can be very…” He sank his teeth into the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder as he unbuttoned her pants. He whispered into her skin, “Satisfying.”
Evan circled his wrist and pushed his arm past the barricade of her waistband. Cam dipped his hand beneath her cotton underpants, pleased with the rush of arousal that met his fingers.
“Quick or slow, Evan?”
“I want…” she panted. “You choose.”
A wicked grin spread across his face.
“Let's give this body what it's been wanting.” He opened her pants.
With the expertise of an accomplished lover, Cam plunged two fingers inside her, eliciting a gasp. He had earned his reputation with women but not for the reasons his SEAL teammates assumed. He was good because he paid attention. Every squeeze of her fingers, every arch of her back, every quick inhale, every shudder. It mattered. For Cam, bringing his partner pleasure was as satisfying as achieving his own—a fact that was never more true than it was right now. Cam would stop the earth from turning if it meant pleasing Evan. He withdrew his fingers, held her clit, all the while watching the silhouette of her beautiful face, flushed with rapture and awe. Cam unleashed his fantasies, imagined himself pushing into her. His erection was a steel pipe threatening to burst the teeth of his fly as he pictured taking her completely, Evan giving herself completely, for the first time. He released the bud and circled it, alternating firm then gentle strokes. Evan trembled and gripped his biceps, her short nails digging into his flesh. Cam continued his ministrations, moving closer to her body, needing to feel her beneath him. Evan lifted her face to his chest, and, with a muffled shriek, she exploded.
Cam moved beside her, slipped an arm behind her head, and cradled her as she came down from the high. She opened her caramel-colored eyes and said one word.
“Wow.”
Then she rolled into the shelter of his body and fell asleep.
Cam didn’t bother analyzing which of his personas had delivered this woman's first orgasm from a man. He knew the answer. What's more, he didn’t care. He didn’t think about the implications, didn’t worry about the consequences. He didn’t do anything but watch over the angel in his arms, entranced.