Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1) (25 page)

“Yeah, I just want to talk to you about something tonight.” His lips touch the top of my head when worry creases my forehead. “When Livvy goes to sleep.”

“Okay,” I say slowly.

“Everything’s fine, Yan. I promise.”

Dinner continues, and everyone is content. I don’t even bother scolding Olivia when she reaches for a second and then third cup of Coke.

After dinner and when everyone else has left, Camden, Olivia, and I settle on the couch to watch a movie. We fall silent as the movie plays before us, happy to just be together.

When the movie finishes, Camden picks up a sleeping Olivia and carries her to her room. Nisa follows us excitedly but stills when I put my hand on her head. I kneel down in front of her for a hug, grateful that she’s still with us. That the repercussions of Camden’s disease didn’t steal my boisterous but sweet dog from us.

I call Nisa to the bed where she lies by Olivia’s feet after Camden sets her down and covers her with her blanket. Olivia rolls onto her side, and I brush a soft kiss on her cheek. Camden takes my hand in his, and together, we walk to our bedroom.

It’s ours—the bedroom, the house. Everything that surrounds us belongs to both of us. Our life, our daughter. Our trials and perseverance.

I keep a watchful eye on Camden as he undresses, his hands trembling slightly when he fumbles with the button on his jeans. His strength and determination are admirable, and I find myself falling in love with every part of him. The boy, the man, the addict, the survivor. I love every piece of Camden. The broken, scared fragments along with the parts we’re starting to put back together.

Taking his hands in mine, I kiss his fingers and then help him unbutton his pants, the sound of his zipper breaking the silence. His tongue darts out and wets his lips, but he keeps his eyes trained on me.

Prickles of pleasure skate down my spine when his hand takes the back of my head and pulls me to him. My lips part, and my belly tightens. I meet his urgent, unrestrained passion with my own hunger as we strip ourselves of our remaining clothes.

When he sweeps me off my feet, my back lands on the soft mattress, making the bed bounce. Kneeling in front of me, he rubs my knees, guiding my legs to spread apart. He leans down and hovers over me, his cock twitching against my stomach. His hands tangle in my hair, and his taut muscles strain in his arms as he places his palm against my neck. Heat gathers where our skin meets and I feel his palm print long after he trails his touch to my chest.

I look up at him, and the muscles in my stomach clench with the building anticipation. Camden smiles down at me, his eyes looking into me, as he slowly goes inside me and thrusts once. He thrusts again harder, his eyes clouding, soaring, as he lives in the ecstasy. My heart lurches forward with every perfect motion, and I grip his shoulders, digging my fingers into his skin.

I sigh his name, my senses obliterated of anything but Camden. There’s nothing but him kissing, touching, biting, exploring every inch of my body with his lips, tongue, and hands. Pleasure moves and flexes throughout me, setting me on fire, as I watch Camden’s expression intensify.

His name rasps from my throat, and my body goes languid. He brings himself closer to me, his chest pressing against mine, his thighs against mine, with my legs wrapped around his waist. His body twitches after his final thrust, making his cock throb to the beat of my heart. I bask in his musky scent. He’s all masculinity with a delicate heart.

My breasts heave, and my nipples remain hard as he lies down next to me and brings our naked bodies closer together. Shocks of electricity ignite and course over me, giving me goose bumps that he brushes over with his long fingers.

My teeth graze over my bottom lip as a small smile spreads across my face, and for the hundredth time today, I murmur a silent prayer of thanks that Camden has come back home. Sure, he’s come back after one of the bleakest times of his life—when he believed himself too weak, too unworthy for any goodness to spill into his life—and we both have to fight fervently for his bruised heart.

Camden’s arms tighten their hold around me, filling any gaps between us, and he plants a single kiss on my forehead.

“My whole life, you’ve been everything to me, Yan. My smile, my strength, my peace.” He kisses my cheek when I look up at him and trace a hand over his chiseled chin. “I’m going to be the same for you and Livvy. I’ll be your faith when you’re feeling unsure. I’ll catch your dreams and help you chase them. I’m yours. All of me belongs to you.” His voice quakes, and his gaze falls to my lips before he looks up at the ceiling. “But there are some things I need to do, so I can move forward.”

I inch away from him, resting the side of my face on my elbow so that I can see him better as he speaks.

“My mom tried to kill me.” He purses his lips together, forming a thin line, and painfully, he closes his eyes shut. “She set the building I was sleeping in on fire because she wanted money to feed her addiction.” Rough hands run over his face, and he pulls strands of his hair. Wild eyes meet mine, seeking, begging for something I’m not sure I can give him.

“I know, Cam,” I whisper into the dense air. “I went to see her while you were still in the hospital.”

His eyes trace over my face, confusion clear in his expression, as he takes ahold of my wrist and squeezes.

“I just
knew
she’d had something to do with the fire. After I left you at the hospital, I went to find her. I’m sorry, Cam.”

“Wh-what happened when you saw her?” he stammers.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I steady my hammering heart and recount the events of our encounter, smiling a bit when I confess how I ended up behind bars because I’d attacked his mom. His face falls and grows somber when I mention how she bargained her way out of serving time.

“I got the heroin I overdosed on from her,” he reveals on a loud whoosh of air.

I gasp as tears collect behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them shed. Although I want to look away from his regret, his shame, his sadness, I keep my eyes trained on his, hoping he feels my love through his inner turmoil.

“It was her way of apologizing for the fire.” He laughs a mirthless laugh, his eyes darkening as even more despair creeps in.

“Cam,” I mutter, the only word I can say through the lump in my throat.

Gentle fingers glide over his face, and he closes his eyes for a few beats before he opens them again. I trace the outline of his features, trying to absorb his pain so that I can carry it for him, if only for a short while. Maybe I can keep some for myself so that his load doesn’t feel quite as heavy.

“It’s okay.” He takes my hand and kisses each of my fingers.

Warmth spreads inside my chest, and my heart races with the sweet affection.

“I need to talk to her.” His eyes seek understanding, so I nod.

With bated breath, I wait for him to continue, but when he stays quiet, I ask, “What are you going to tell her?”

His body shifts away from mine, and he stares at the ceiling. “I’m going to claim my inheritance and offer her a portion of it if she gets clean and stays clean for a year.”

He looks back at me, and I hold my breath, unable to comprehend the kindness that lives within him.

“I’ll support her during that time—pay for her to go to rehab and live in an apartment and everything. She doesn’t have to talk to me or anything.” His eyes darken. “She just needs to get clean.”

“Okay.” I lean toward him and kiss his cheek and then his lips.

I start to back away, so he cups the back of my head and pulls me to him for a searing kiss. When he finishes, I press a finger to my tingling lips, making him grin.

“I also want to talk to Livvy. I know she hasn’t known me for that long—”

I interrupt him with a simple, “Okay,” and place my hand against his chest where I can feel the rapid beating of his heart. “She loves you, Cam. Maybe it’s because my parents and I spoke so much about you while you were gone, or maybe she sees you the same way I’ve always seen you. But she loves you.” Sucking in my bottom lip, I let out a thoughtful breath through my nose. “She’ll have questions, and she might not understand why you left, but she’ll come around. Knowing you’re her dad, she’ll love you more and more every day.”

He nods, his eyes misting over with raw emotions. “I love her, Yan, so much. The minute I saw her, my heart claimed her as mine.” He hesitates. “I’ll never leave either of you again. I swear it. I’ll prove it to you every day if I have to.”

“You’re silly.” I smile. “You’ve already proven everything.”

“There’s something else.” He eyes me with uncertainty.

“You can tell me anything.” Sincerity falls from my lips, and he smiles, the simple joy of my words reaching his eyes.

“I want to open up a center for foster kids, like the group home I went to,” he says.

My heart clenches into a tight fist.

“But I want it to be more than just safe. I want the kids to grow there and learn.”

“No dull walls,” I add.

“Or stained ceilings.”

“Oh! We can have a pet program, too.” My fervor grows along with Camden’s smile.

“That’s a good idea.” He covers my hand still resting on his chest with his. “So many of these kids have never been treated with anything but cruelty. Bringing in dogs could teach them compassion.”

“And empathy if we get the dogs from the shelter I work at.”

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand, his eyes speaking to me, drawing me in, with our mutual excitement. “ Does that mean you’re in? I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave your job…” He trails off.

“Camden Riley,” I scold. “Of course I’m in! This sounds amazing.”

His smile grows sheepish, and pink stains his cheeks.

“You’re adorable.” I giggle, crawling to him so that I can rest my head on his chest.

“You’re perfect. You’ve always been the best part of my life.”

My eyes glint as a devilish smile spreads across my face. “You’re sweet. Now, tie me up and ride me hard.”

Camden’s eyes widen momentarily before he flashes me a wolfish grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he growls into my ear.

With one agile movement, he flips me over so that I’m lying on my stomach with his erection pressing against my back, and he pins me to the bed.

THIRTY-FIVE

CAMDEN

In Yanelys’s backyard, Olivia and I kneel by the privacy fence with our fingers covered in fresh dirt as we plant miniature white roses. Olivia’s soft voice dances in the unseasonably warm air as she chatters on about everything she learned from YouTube about maintaining flowers.

Yeah, YouTube. How any of us ever survived without modern technology is beyond me.

After we pat the last small bush into the dirt, I lean toward Olivia and wipe my dirty fingers over her face. Agile and fast, she stands up on a squeal, and I take off running while she tries to catch me. Her laughter chases me, and when I pretend to fall, she jumps on top of me, covering my face with the dirt on her hands.

“Children,” Yanelys calls out.

We both look back at her with innocent expressions.

She shakes her head on a laugh and brings out the hose to water our freshly planted garden.

“Go inside to clean up,” she orders. “Or I’ll spray you both down.”

Shrieking, Olivia runs indoors while I walk to Yanelys, who has her back to me. When I reach her, I cup her ass that’s barely covered in her short denim shorts.

“Cam.” She laughs, leaning her body toward me.

Pulling her closer to me, I wrap my arms around her waist and lean my chin on her shoulder, kissing her neck. Her breath comes out quick and erratic, so I lift the bottom of her shirt, tracing small circles over her stomach.

“Livvy,” she breathes our daughter’s name. “She’ll be out any minute.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” I tease, making her chuckle. “Besides, she might as well get used to seeing me hug on her mom every chance I get.”

“And leave handprints on my butt and breasts?”

“I haven’t touched your breasts. Yet.” I waggle my eyebrows even though she can’t see me. “But I will be later. A lot. With my tongue, teeth, and hands.”

“Cam,” she says my name on a sigh.

Giving her time to gather herself, I pull away after placing a kiss on her cheek.

I watch her, drink in her every subtle curve, the way the sun lightens her hair, the way she moves when she thinks no one is watching. And, for the first time, my fingers itch
—
not for a pill, but for Yanelys. To touch her, to own every part of her.

When she finishes and puts up the hose, she walks to me and looks at me through dubious eyes.

“What?” I ask.

She bites her bottom lip, so I repeat the same words she always tells me, “You can tell me anything.”

She lets out a long whoosh of air, takes the hair band from around her wrist, and quickly picks her hair up into a messy bun. Tendrils of hair fall around her face, framing it.

“Pastor Floyd gave me the letter your dad, uh—Herb wrote you.” She stays quiet, waiting for my reaction.

I keep my face placid, despite the thrashing of my heart or the feeling of betrayal that washes over me.

“Don’t be mad, Cam,” she pleads. “Pastor Floyd wanted me to understand better, and I did. I do. I wish you’d been the one to tell me.”

She reaches for my suddenly cold hands and squeezes, so I push past the anger and manage a small smile for her benefit. Still, my annoyance settles along with my hatred for the man who was never my dad.

Claustrophobic, I turn away, ready to leave, but before I can put my back to her, Yanelys stops me, wrapping her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest, neither looking at me nor refusing to let me go. Without thinking about it, I run my hands in circles over her back, and my frustration begins to dissipate as she calms the brewing storm.

As the tension leaves my body, she takes a step back and cups my face with her hands. I take her wrists, connecting me to her so that the fury stays at bay.

“I think you should find him,” Yanelys says, her voice strong, her eyes warm.

“Don’t.” I push away from her, but she takes a step toward me with every step I take away from her. “I can’t talk about this.”