He wanted so much more than to just take her. She knew it, she could see it building in his expression, in the battle for control in his eyes. And she watched him, felt him, lose that control.
She arched, twisted, felt the hard thrust that burrowed the length of his cock inside her, stretching her, burning her, taking her with a desperation that rocked her soul.
The hard, plunging strokes fired a pleasure and pain that tore past preconceived notions of pleasure. It whipped through her mind and left her reeling, and it tore through her senses and left her fighting for the breath to scream.
She felt the sensations rising, building. Each hard thrust, as he shafted inside her, threw her higher. Her nails bit into his shoulders, her legs tightened around his plunging hips, and a second later she dissolved around him.
“Fuck. Fuck. No.” He was shaking above her, spilling into her, and those haunted, beautiful eyes of his blazed. With possession. With love.
16
Cam stomped into the house, pulling Jaci behind him, before releasing her in the living room and heading to the enclosed bathroom for towels. Chase was gone. She didn’t know when he had left, or how long he had stayed.
Seconds later Cam was wrapping the thick, thirsty material around her wet body, then drying himself off and wrapping the towel snugly around his waist.
He stared at her, horrified by his loss of control, by the sheer thoughtlessness of what he had done. Or what he had nearly done. What he had wanted to do, with a hunger that even now drove spikes of need straight through his balls.
Hell, he still wanted her. He would always want her.
“At least you didn’t wait until I was asleep to pull away from me,” she said tightly, as she secured the towel over her naked body.
He shot her a glare before stalking to the fridge and beer. His control was still shot. He clenched his teeth and fought to hold on to what few threads were still left.
“Don’t push this, Jaci,” he finally told her, twisting the cap off the bottle before turning to face her.
Her arms were crossed over her breasts, her hip cocked, her expression as confrontational as any pissed-off redhead. If he were a smart man, he’d have been terrified instead of turned on.
“Don’t push this,” she drawled. “Excuse me, Cam, but do you think I can’t see what’s inside you right now? What’s inside you every time the three of us come together?”
Hearing the words pass her lips was enough to make his blood boil with that need. He could see her, flushed, screaming, drowning in pleasure.
“Did you expect something different?” he growled. “You knew what I wanted seven years ago, and you knew what it would come to when you invited me and Chase into your hotel room.” He stalked toward her. “You came here, and you came to Alexandria, knowing I was here. You knew what you were walking into. You knew you wouldn’t be leaving here without this.”
And then she smiled—a slow, knowing smile that made his back teeth grind with desire.
“Oh, I knew.” She shrugged, and it infuriated him. “Just as I know that I’ll be damned if I’m just one of a long line of little pets you and Chase share.”
“Did I ask you to be a pet?” he snarled, continuing to advance on her, watching as she retreated until he had her against the wall, until all he could think about was taking her again—plunging inside her, holding her to him, and feeling her hot and tight around him, bare and so slick, so sweet, as he felt every ripple of that snug little pussy. “I warned you, Jaci.” He caught her to him. “I warned you that you’re mine.”
“And what does being yours mean?” Her voice was tight, angry. “And why the sharing? Why do you want it?”
“Why do you want it, Jaci?” he asked.
She froze at the question. Her lips parted, her heart stuttered in her chest as she pulled in a shocked breath.
“You love it.” He leaned closer, his voice lowering, his body tightening. “Just as much as I do. Tell me, Jaci, why do I see that same need in your eyes?”
Dominance and arrogance filled his expression and his eyes. He was primal, and he knew it—and she should have known there was so little she could hide from him. He had the experience she didn’t have. He knew women, he knew lust, and he knew desire. And he knew her.
“I enjoy it,” she admitted. “Sometimes, yes, I would crave it. But for God’s sake, Cam, I need more than a threesome when you take me. I need more than that for you, for both of us.”
Hurt and need welled inside her, tore at her heart and had her shuddering with the attempt to hold it back. “I need more from a relationship than a man that can’t bear to spend more than five damned minutes with me alone. Forget sleeping with me. Damn you Cameron. I need you to hold me. I need you to need me, not me and your brother.”
She pushed at his chest, the anger building inside her again. No, it wasn’t anger, it was fear. What the hell made her think she could come here and not risk every part of who and what she was?
She had promised herself the last time he left her alone she wouldn’t be seduced into what he wanted, without owning his heart as well. And she’d be damned if it was working out that way.
Surprisingly, he let her go. She could feel his eyes on her back as she gripped the front of the towel and paced away from him. But he didn’t have an answer for her, and she hadn’t really expected one.
“What good does it do me to love you?” she finally asked him when she turned toward him. “You’re going to destroy us both. Because you won’t be honest with me, and I can’t trust everything to you, Cam, without the same in return.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “Start telling me what happened with the Robertses. You want trust, Jaci. Give it.”
She stared back at him, wishing with all her soul that she could tell him, that she could trust him not to keep his promise to kill any man that hurt her. And perhaps he wouldn’t, but she knew Cam, he would spill blood, and it wasn’t blood that she needed to neutralize those two.
“Trust you first, huh?” She smiled sadly. “Doesn’t work that way.”
She moved back to the balcony. The rain had eased to a drizzle, the soft breeze that blew through was almost cooling. She collected her clothes, wrung them out as best she could, then moved back into the apartment. “Where’s your dryer?”
His gaze raked over her, then the clothes. “Subject’s not changing that easy, sweetheart.”
“Conversation is over,” she told him.
A second later she was against the wall again, staring at his furious face in shock. The towel was lying on the floor, and Cam was holding her in place. Not painfully, but carefully, as he glowered down at her.
“You’re not leaving here,” he snapped. “When I said you were mine I wasn’t joking. I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go again this easily.”
“Does that mean you’re sleeping with me tonight, Chase?” She pressed her hands flat against his chest, and knew the answer when she felt the flinch that raced through his muscles. “Can’t do it, can you? Well, guess what? I can’t let you leave me feeling like something you bought for the night, either.”
He released her slowly, but she saw the struggle in his eyes, in his expression. Letting her go was just as damned hard for him as it was going to be for her to walk away.
“I need to dry my clothes,” she told him, forcing herself to hold back the tears.
How could she have let this happen? Hadn’t she hurt enough over the years? Lost enough?
She clenched her teeth and breathed in roughly as she watched him jerk the wet clothes from the floor and stomp away toward what was obviously an enclosed bathroom on the other end of the cavernous room.
A few minutes later he returned, dressed himself, and brought her a T-shirt.
“Put this on.” His voice was still tight, savage.
Jaci stared back at him miserably, aching for things that didn’t even have a name. She stared around the open apartment, seeing so much emptiness, and wondered what made her think that Cam would be able to let her fill any part of his life.
God, she wasn’t twenty-one any longer. She should have stopped dreaming of fairy tales a long time ago. Cam’s heart was as empty as his apartment, and she knew she couldn’t survive loving him with nothing in return. She needed his love just as desperately as she needed to love him.
Pressing her lips tightly together to hold back the pain, she finished drying off, then pulled the T-shirt over her head. It was obviously his, or perhaps Chase’s. Though she doubted that in his present mood, he would give her one of Chase’s shirts to wear.
“I want you to move your things from the hotel to here.” His voice was strained, as though he knew the request he was making was ludicrous.
Jaci just stared back at him silently for a long moment before staring around the sterile apartment.
“No.”
“Look, you don’t like this place? Do whatever the hell you want to it,” he said, waving his hand stiffly to indicate the large area. “I don’t want you at that hotel. I want you here. With me.”
“And where will you sleep?”
He drew in a hard, deep breath. “I don’t sleep in the bed. I use the couch, anyway.”
“I’m not looking for a roommate, Cam.”
She watched his jaw clench spasmodically and felt her heart ache at that sudden flash of pain in his eyes. He stared around the apartment as though searching for answers, searching desperately for the argument that would sway her.
“Look, we could try it for a while.” He flexed his shoulders as though shifting a weight he suddenly realized he carried. “What the hell will it hurt, Jaci? You want to be here, you know you do. This isn’t something either one of us can walk away from now.”
“You appear to be quite good at walking away from it,” she argued. “What’s going to happen, Cam? You and Chase have me, but it’s Chase you would allow to wrap his arms around me and hold me through the night, while you lie in solitary splendor on that big couch?” She waved her hand toward the couch. “Doesn’t it ever get lonely? Don’t you ever wish you were brave enough to cuddle your lover on your own?”
“Not until you.” His voice echoed with despair. “Not until you, Jaci. And you have more of me than any other woman could ever have.”
Cam watched the emotions flicker over Jaci’s face and felt the fragments of his heart cracking, breaking. She didn’t bother to hide her emotions. They were there for him to see, and he hated seeing the pain in her eyes. He hated it even worse, because he had put the pain there.
His gaze flickered to the couch. The wide frame, firm cushions—the piece of furniture had been bought solely because of its sleepability. Because, since his teens, he couldn’t fucking bear sleeping in a bed for more than a few hours at a time.
He could still remember the sensation of his flesh crawling, awakening to the feeling of hands touching him, a whining voice demanding him. The last time it had happened, he had nearly killed.
He flexed his hands. He could still remember the feel of her neck in his grip, the soft flesh giving, watery brown eyes wide and filled with horror, as dry, aged flesh clenched beneath his fingers.
God, he hated that bitch. Her and her fucking friends, and the hell he had lived through for five fucking years before he found the guts to get out of it. Until he found a way to get out and still hold on to what little pride he had left.
He had no idea what kept him standing, what kept his shoulders straight. He moved to the only woman who had ever filled more than just a passing urge for sex. The woman who had filled his imagination, the pieces of his heart, and his hunger, for so many years.
He had often asked himself, why this woman? He had tried to make sense of why she drew him to her when others didn’t. Why he wanted to be different for her, why he needed to give her parts of himself that he thought were dead long ago.
