Starting Over (13 page)

“I’m so sorry, Vanessa,” he says, his dark eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them before as he steps back to give me some personal space.

Standing up, and in a sudden urge to get out of there, I say, “It’s okay, really. Listen, I have to go. I’m so sorry. Dinner was great, thanks.”

Cameron runs his hands through his black locks, clearly confused by what is happening. He tries to stop me by the front door. “Please stay, we’ll just talk, I promise.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” I stand up on my toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Looking dejected and still confused, he stands as I bolt out the front door and down the walk to my car, where I climb in and go home. Alone.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I
make it as far as the end of his street before stopping my car and pulling over.

Taking a deep breath, again and again, helps me to regain focus on the situation, because my head feels as if it was literally spinning for a few minutes.

Skipping from thought to thought, I come to the conclusion that I’m crazy. Well, not crazy, like, loony-bin crazy, but crazy over all of this sex stuff. Poor Cameron, he probably thinks that I’m actually crazy at this point.

I’m an adult, single, red-blooded female who wants to have a sexual relationship with a man that I like a lot and have grown to care about. Has it been in a short time that this has happened? Yes, but the fact remains I’m a grown woman and can do this . . . if I want.

And I do want to do this with him. But now I think I’ve screwed it all up for good with that scene that just played out a few minutes ago.

God, you’re an idiot.

How do I fix this? What could I possibly say to make him understand? I bet he didn’t count on this when he signed up to ask me out that first time, and I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he didn’t want to listen to me attempt to explain myself. Where do I even start?

I make a decision in that instant, which may backfire, but the hell with it. Putting my car back in drive, I spin the wheel and make a U-turn back to Cameron’s house. Pulling into his driveway again a second later, I put the car into park and open my door, not letting any hesitation enter into my mind this time. I walk up the steps, but my hand freezes before knocking on his front door for the second time that night.

Then I remember a saying from a book or a movie that goes something like “if you can bear having embarrassing courage for twenty seconds, something good will come of it.”

So I knock and the ticking clock of twenty seconds begins as soon as Cameron swings the door open in complete surprise.

“Vanessa, thank God you’re back, I was going to call you because I really think we need to—”

“Cameron, can I please come in again?”

He steps aside. “Yes, of course.”

I walk straight to his living room while he shuts and locks the front door. When he joins me, I ask him to please take a seat so I can explain myself.

“Vanessa, you don’t have to explain yourself. I was pushing you to move too fast and I’m sorry, but when I start to kiss you, my head feels like it’s going to explode and—”

Not even recognizing myself, I lean down and grab his face in my hands and kiss him to shut him up. He stills but lets me kiss him fully on the mouth, with just a hint of our tongues grazing each other’s. It’s enough to dissolve whatever lingering doubts I had earlier and helps to convince me that what I’m about to do is the right thing, right here and right now with him.

I break the kiss and whisper against his lips, “Don’t say another word. Okay?”

He nods.

I stand up straight, and with my eyes locked on his, and with the clock running down on the twenty seconds I sorely need to keep my bravery up, I begin to unbutton my blouse. His eyes, already black as the night sky, grow darker with need and want as I reach the final button. When I start to pull the blouse open to slide it off my shoulders, he abruptly stands up and pulls it together again to stop me.

“Why are you—?”

“Are you sure about this?” he asks in a low voice, his hands still holding my blouse together and covering me up.

I search his eyes once more just as the twenty seconds are up and say yes.

“Then I want to be the one to undress you,” he says.

I nod in agreement, because I prefer to hand over the reins. He brings my right hand up to hold my blouse together and takes the other in his. He walks me to his bedroom in silence, with the only sound our steps echoing against the hardwood floor the entire way until we reach the foot of his bed. With the small amount of light filtering in from the hallway, I can tell that it’s a light-colored comforter thrown over the bed haphazardly, as if he was in a hurry to attempt to make the bed this morning.

He turns me around so that the backs of my knees graze the footboard. I’m in this moment right now with him, and I will follow him down any road he decides to take me on.

I drop my hand, and the unbuttoned blouse separates an inch or two, letting the silk material billow slightly between us as I wait for his next move.

Cameron slowly runs a finger down the sliver of exposed skin, then back up again. It trails up to my collarbone and then down, stopping between my breasts.

“Did you know that attraction is a scientific process that is mostly dictated by our brains, but the body can give off certain telltale signals?”

I swallow some air and let out a breathy no in response. I can see the grin on his face as he dips his head and places a string of kisses across my collarbone. My hands weave into his black hair to bring me closer to him. They stay looped around his neck when he stands up straight again and says, “One physiological response is pupil dilation, it can dictate to a man when a woman is experiencing unbridled lust and vice versa.”

Cameron pulls my arms down so that they are hanging limply by my sides. Not a second later, he’s tugging the shirt off of each shoulder, and it lands on the floor. My heart is practically pounding in my chest as I note every single action and reaction etched across his face. I feel like putty in his hands, and the more random facts he spouts, the more turned on I become. And if I had to guess, my pupils can’t possibly get more dilated right now.

He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. With our bodies pressed together, he licks his lips quickly before dipping his head once more and kissing me gently; a simple kiss in execution but erotic in its delivery, and it makes my toes curl.

While he’s kissing me and his tongue rubs against mine, his hand cups my breast. I moan into his mouth at the sensation when he plucks my nipple between his fingers. Then he pulls away, leaving me heady and desperate for more.

Cameron starts to unbutton my jeans and then slowly unzips them, with his eyes on mine. He crouches down in front of me and starts to slide them down my hips. I kick my shoes off as if they were on fire before he reaches my feet so he can remove them completely.

Now I’m standing before him in only my bra and underwear. For a second, I want to wrap my arms across my chest and cover myself up; my hands twitch with the urge to do just that, but he holds them to the side. From his position, he looks up and says, “Don’t, you’re beautiful,” before placing a kiss on my navel.

When he stands, he starts talking in a low voice again. “A classic symptom of sexual attraction is the release of norepinephrine in the brain. It usually means that your skin will break out in a sweat as a result of the pleasure you’re experiencing.”

He’s saying this as he spins me around so that my back is pressed against his front. And then his hands come around my sides: one sliding up to angle my chin to face him and the other sliding down the length of my torso and farther still, stopping at the edge of my panties.

My breathing is already jagged at best, and if it weren’t for his arms around me, I’d probably fall on the floor. The anticipation is killing me, and the science of sex and the calm and erotic way he’s explaining it all to me as he touches and kisses me is driving me crazy in the best way possible.

Cameron’s hand dips lower still and underneath the small shred of lace fabric. My eyes close and my head falls back onto his shoulder when I feel him touch me there finally, and I moan into the darkness. And with his fingers moving in small circles in just the right spot, he brings me to the brink of climax and then stops as suddenly as he brought me there.

“Here,” he whispers and tilts my chin more so his mouth can capture mine.

As our tongues meet again, stroking and stoking the flame inside of me that is dying to burst, his fingers start their ministrations once more, and there is no stopping this time; it’s amazing. He swallows my moans, growling into my mouth while he slows the pace of his fingers working against me.

“Are you okay?” he asks tenderly, removing his hand from my panties and swiping a wet trail up my chest.

“Yes.”

I’m so okay right now, it’s not even funny how okay I am. My chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath when he turns me around to face him again. For the first time, a cocky grin flashes across his face.

“You’re sweating,” he says with a hint of mischief in his voice.

“I am,” I say with an equal amount of mirth. “And you’re still dressed.”

It’s almost as if saying those words out loud sets off a chain reaction inside of me that results in me almost tearing off his button-down shirt and T-shirt. His skin is hot to the touch and smooth with only a smattering of dark hair. And he’s fit but not too muscular: as Goldilocks would say, “Just right.”

My hands roam the expanse of his chest and down farther still; then he stops me from unbuckling his belt.

“What’s wrong? Are we stopping? Please tell me we’re not stopping now?” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own, but I mean it. I need more from him. I want to feel him move inside of me and finish what we started.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head once in silent negation. “No, we’re not stopping. I just need to get something.”

He places me on the bed, and I drag my body up until my head reaches the pillows. Cameron walks around the corner of the bed, his eyes focused on mine while he rummages through his nightstand and takes out a condom.

When he’s holding it in between his teeth and going for his belt buckle, I surprise even myself by reaching behind me to undo my bra. It slides down my arms, and I toss it on the floor at his feet. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare as my hands trail down my sides and latch on to the tiny scrap of lace fabric that is my underwear just as he’s undoing the buttons of his jeans. And when the buttons hit the hardwood floor with a long ping, I slide my panties down and off my legs, tossing them to land on his discarded jeans.

The urge to cover myself is obliterated. I want him to look at me and appreciate what he sees. In fact, I feel as if my life depends on it suddenly. And his reaction to me being completely bare is worth its weight in gold. Because without another word, he climbs on the bed and pushes my legs apart, staring for a second at the apex of my thighs. It’s searing and sensual and makes me want to see every part of him that much sooner.

“Cameron, please,” is what I choke out between labored breaths as I writhe on the bed, his dark gaze on me.

On his knees before me, he removes his boxer briefs and tears the condom open finally. I watch as he covers himself with it and leans down over me, holding himself at my entrance. And we both look down between our bodies and watch as he enters me for the first time.

We moan at the feel of it, the sight, one of the most erotic things I’ve experienced and seen in my entire life. And then he starts to move, setting a pace that makes it beyond pleasurable for me as evidenced by the impending climax that hovers beneath the surface of my already flushed and sweaty skin.

When I do finally break that peak of pleasure, with my legs wrapped around his hips, my hands are gripping his back to guide his movements to a slower pace to prolong the sensation racking my body. Once I reach the crest, he props up on his elbows to look down at me, telling me without voicing it out loud that his desire for me is real and raw. That’s when he starts to move faster again, chasing and ultimately reaching his own release. Even with the barrier of the condom, experiencing him pulse inside of me, I feel more like a woman than any other moment before this.

I take his entire weight when he drops his head to kiss and burrow into my neck, my hand caressing his back in slow circles. And the warmth of his body draped over mine is a feeling that I already know I want to experience over and over. As our breathing comes back to normal and I can actually catch a breath and form a coherent string of words, I tap him on the shoulder.

“Am I too heavy?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at me.

His hair is a mess from my hands having wreaked havoc in it, and it makes him look even more perfect than before.

I shake my head. “No, you’re not too heavy. I was going to ask if you have a T-shirt that says ‘I love science,’ because as it turns out, I really, really, really love science.”

There is a dance that couples do as they sleep that is uncoordinated yet perfectly timed and attuned to their partner’s needs and wants as the night goes on.

While this dance happens with Cameron for the very first time—I don’t count that other time since I was in a fever fueled haze—I’m amazed at how in sync he is with what
I
want and need from him. Because at one point in the middle of the night, I wake up craving more of him, and he gives himself over to me without question, a sleepy and leisurely discovery of each other’s bodies that ends as the morning dawns.