The Dysfunctional Test (18 page)

“I am not going swimming, without a suit, in the dark, surrounded by woods.”

Oh yes, she was. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She gave him an incredulous glare. “Where’s your sense, period? Is this even legal?”

He shrugged. “Probably not. Let’s do it anyway.”

She crossed her arms, ever defiant. He was beginning to love that.

“You give me no choice, Camryn Covic.”

He picked her up, walked to the water’s edge, and flopped into the water still holding her. The shock of warm water was several degrees higher than the air. It was like jumping into a sauna. He let her go and rose to the surface. When he opened his eyes, she was glaring at him, literal steam pouring off her face from the cool air hitting the hot water.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

She blinked as water ran off her hair, over her face. Her white dress molded to her breasts, and as he glanced downward, he could see all the way to her toes through the water. Those huge eyes of hers looked back at him, starlight reflecting off the water, and suddenly
he
wanted to do the spontaneous thing.

Lifting his hand, he traced a water droplet from her throat, to her collarbone, and over the swell of her breast. Her skin, so soft beneath his rough fingers. Warm, inviting. Like cream. She inhaled, shivered.

As they stared at each other, chest-deep in spring water, her expression changed from anger to surprise to heat. Her lips parted. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. And he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling this kick in the gut. This crazy, impractical, could-only-end-badly, attraction.

Then again, when did he ever do the practical thing?

Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her to him. She melted instantly against his mouth, pressed her curves to fit the hard contours of his body. No woman had ever responded like Cam did. None of them had ever felt as good as she felt. His hand fisted in her hair, holding on, holding back, until a moan bubbled from her throat, and he lost it.

His hands gripped her waist, dove under her dress, grabbed her backside to haul her closer. She wrapped a leg around his hips, flush to the throbbing he thought would never cease. Her fingers bunched in his shirt, her head tilted for a deeper kiss, and…there were too many damn clothes between them.

A rustling sounded behind them. He broke away and turned to look, not seeing anything. Still panting from their mind-blowing kiss, he tried to listen for what he first heard, but far off in the distance he heard a growl instead.

Oh, shit.

“Cam, we need to go now.”

Without waiting for her response, he hauled her over his shoulder, trekked through the water, and ran for the car. His legs dragged due to the extra weight of soaked clothes. She flopped over his shoulder with every step. Imaginable things clawed through his mind, like being ripped to pieces.

Go. Go. Go.

Finally reaching the car, he threw down the towels he’d brought to cover the seats, and dropped her. Slamming the door, he came around the driver’s side and jumped in. Then he hit the door lock, just in case bears and wolves had evolved to opposable thumbs.

Leaning forward, he glared out the windshield, out the side window, the rear. “I don’t see anything,” he said, winded.

When he looked at her, she had her lips pressed together. Quickly, she covered them with a hand. Her shoulders shook, and she…laughed. Deep, thunderous laughter before she sobered and pointed at him, then burst out all over again. Her head flew back, exposing her throat.

He had a very strong urge to strangle that throat, then kiss it better.

“
Friday the 13th
is just a movie, you know,” she said, wiping her eyes and sighing. “Jason’s not real.”

“I heard a growl.”

“Uh huh. Was it Bigfoot? ’Cause we need pictures of that.”

She laughed again, and he just shook his head in awe. His skin heated, his pants shrank, and his heart stopped mid-beat. He’d never seen her like this. More importantly, he’d never felt like this.

“God, Camryn. You really need to laugh more often. It’s a beautiful sound.”

On a dime, her laughter stopped as she stared at him. Something in her eyes lost all humor, and a bitter sadness replaced the joy.

His heart cracked wide open inside his chest.

It was one thing to lie to the family and pretend they were dating. There was safety in that, knowing there was an end. A breakup coming. No harm done. It was another thing entirely to start acting on that lie with no one around but their conscience. If they did this, gave in to some strange attraction for each other, he would end up on the losing end.

Once upon a time, all he had was a broken home and a couple of trinkets as reminders of good memories. Good memories so few he could count them on one hand. They were all tied to her. The woman before him who had more inside her than she even realized. Through the years he got a family. Her family.

The kisses they shared before tonight were nothing in comparison to what almost happened back there in the spring. He’d almost… They’d almost…

Swallowing, his gaze flashed to the steering wheel. She was different. She was more. He started the car and backed out.

Troy had flopped on his back, his side, and to his back again more times than Camryn could count, but she didn’t dare move from her spot on the bed. Her legs were going numb, but she didn’t care. For some reason, some idiotic and irritating reason, she couldn’t hold her tongue, or her sanity, around him. Her defense mechanism threw up mental blocks whenever they were alone. Nothing worked.

She could smell his soap. He’d showered after her most recent humiliation, which actually turned out to be quite fun. And hot. Very hot. Troy and his list. She wondered if he called it
101 Ways to Make Camryn Look Like a Fool
. Worse, she wondered if there were one hundred and one things on his list.

The smell of soap shouldn’t be sexy. In fact, it should be against the law…

“Camryn,” he whispered.

Do. Not. Answer.

“Camryn, are you awake?”

Under any circumstances.

She sighed. The way he whispered her name had her insides turning into a combustible engine. “Yes, I’m awake.”
Idiot!

She rolled over and looked at him, seeing something in his expression that had her nervous. She’d hoped it wasn’t for something else on his supposed list, ’cause for some reason, she couldn’t tell him no either. Well, yeah she did. He was just more persistent than she was strong.

“I’m not going rock climbing in the middle of the night,” she said. “Or tiptoeing through the tulips. Just for the record. I don’t care if they’re on your list or not.”

His expression didn’t change, but his jaw muscles tensed and loosened. “Why?”

Auntie Em
was blaring from her stomach again. “What do you mean, why? Why what?”

“Why are you still awake?” he asked, his voice dangerously, deliciously low.

She didn’t like where this was going. Or maybe she did. “I don’t know, Troy.”

As she said his name, his eyes closed as if in pain. “Yes, you do.”

When he reopened them, she looked into his dark eyes, over his face. The inside of her mouth lost all moisture. “No, I don’t.” But she did. The tremor in her voice gave her away. And why was he baiting her?

In one swift, jarring move, he pushed her flat on her back, straddled her, and pinned her arms above her head. She wheezed in air. Her stomach brushed his. Skin to skin. Heat to heat.

“Yes, you do, Camryn. You’re awake for the same reason I am. I need you to admit it. I went this far, meet me halfway. Make the next move.”

Oh God, was this really happening? Was he really doing this? Everything south of her naval throbbed, wanting him inside her. His erection pressed against her belly, and that throb turned to a painful ache.

Please, please don’t let this be another thing on his stupid list. An action to prove a point.

“Make a move, Cam.”

His voice, barely above a whisper, pleaded. His eyes, so dark, demanded.

Don’t think. For once in your miserable life, don’t think
.

She closed the distance between them and crashed her mouth to his.

Her head hit the pillow when he came down, pressing the full length of his body over hers. Arching, she deepened the kiss, opening to him. His tongue slid against hers, and everything inside her went mad. Her wrists fought his hold. Her legs wrapped around his waist.

Dropping her wrists, he reached for her tee, tugging it over her head without so much as a pause. It caught her hair before he tossed it aside. He looked down at her breasts, her stomach, a determined eye examining what was before him.

No. No, don’t look. Just touch.

When she crossed her arms over her chest to hide, he took her wrists again and held them at her side.

Every insecurity seeped out. He’d had so many women before her. She’d be no match for him. If Maxwell thought she was sexually retarded, Troy would too. After this, every time they saw each other, he’d look at her with disappointment. Remembering her as the one who didn’t measure up. The grandest let down.

“Never cover up, Camryn.”

Sobs wracked her chest, and she couldn’t even have the decency to hide it. Add basket case who cried during sex to the mortification list.

Before a tear could fall, he let go of her wrists and cupped her face. He stared down at her. “It’s just you and me, Cam. No one else. Get him out of your head.”

Erratically, she nodded her head, sobs subsiding. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare apologize to me.” He took one of her hands and pressed it to his chest. Below her palm, his heart thumped violently. “That’s for you. That’s what you do to me.”

He looked at her a second more, and lowered his head, kissing her with the same force but with more passion. More…everything.

Her chest eased, releasing the panic. She let go, wrapping her hands around his back, lower still to the elastic of his pajamas. As she tugged them down, she broke their kiss to place her mouth over the pulse on his throat. Bringing her leg up, she slid his pants down the rest of the way with her foot.

He rolled them to his side of the bed and fished inside his bag on the floor, drawing out a condom, then rolled them back so he covered her once more. His forehead dropped to hers. Their gazes locked as he brushed his knuckles over her belly, to her hips, and inside her boxers.

Every hair on her body stood erect, anticipating more. Fearing more.

Her boxers and panties skimmed off, down her thighs, across the room. He positioned himself between her thighs, the weight of him demanding, the feel of him so new. There was nothing between them now. Without separating so much as a centimeter, he donned the condom. His forearms pressed her hips in the act, causing an unraveling effect to every sensory nerve.

They were doing this.

Staring down at her, so intense she held her breath, he flicked a finger across her swollen wetness.

She gasped, closed her eyes, and arched off the bed to meet him. One of his hands slipped under her head, cradling her as his mouth closed over her throat. His other hand snaked behind her back, drawing them closer. She didn’t think they could get any closer, and yet it wasn’t close enough. She’d never felt such demand in her life.

When he entered her, stretching and filling her absolutely, there wasn’t a trace of emptiness left inside. He groaned against her skin, part whimper, and all male. Her ache became tremors, the tremors became shudders, until her entire body tensed and erupted.

Her head flew back, a cry ready in her throat. His hand closed over her mouth, containing the noise, riding out the crest with her.

As her quaking ceased, he removed his hand and replaced it with his mouth. Fevered, frantic kisses that had her insides churning again.
Again
. She could feel the long, hard length of him, still pulsing, still wanting.

“Troy…”

“Not done,” he murmured against her mouth.

Right. He wasn’t done.

He broke away and looked down at her. “You’re not done. I’m not done with you.”

“Oh,” she said, heart pounding, throat closing.
Oh
.

While watching her, he cupped her breast, brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple. A stifled hum escaped her throat, and he moved inside her. His hand slid down, over her side, and locked on her hip. The other hand did the same, and her pelvis rose from the bed, thrusting him deeper.

So, so much deeper.

Her skin lit like fire, her bones liquefying. His mouth fell over her breast, biting, sucking, until the only thing she could do was hold on. She fisted her hands in his hair, dug her heels in his backside.

He cried out, the sound muffled by her breast, and as he pounded inside her, she came undone a second time. His arms slid between the mattress and her back, enfolding them together, closer yet. The rhythm he set was tormenting. Maddening. Without warning, she came a third time, and by then all she could do was whine.