All Over You (All Falls Down #3) (14 page)

He's such a contradiction…sweet and gentle one moment, and then rough and wild the next. I love it.

"Spent half the night trying to track your ass down," he tells me. His hand comes down on my ass again, and then again. "Needed to make sure you were okay. I can handle most things, but not knowing if you were okay wrecked me. Never felt that way before. Don't put me through that again, kitten. Please."

That one word wrecks me in the best way possible. I have a feeling this man doesn't ask for much from anybody, and I doubt he
ever
has to say please to get what he wants. He's pleading with me to give him this because he needs it. From me.

"I'm sorry," I sob, writhing in pleasure as he spanks my ass and whispers to me, telling me what he went through, looking for me. It's too soon for him to care so much and yet…it's not.

His hand comes down against my ass a final time, and then his cock nudges at my entrance.

"Yes," I plead. My entire body is on fire. I need him inside me now.

"Are you on birth control, kitten?" he asks, running his cock through my folds, gathering wetness.

"Yes."

"I'm clean, but I'll get a condom if you want."

I know I should tell him yes―a condom is safe and responsible―but I don't tell him that. I don't want safe and responsible. I want rough and wild.

"I want to feel you," I confess. "Just you."

A soft growl rumbles in his throat. "Gonna take you until you feel like you're going to break in half. And then I'm going to do it again," he warns me, gripping my hip in his left hand to hold me steady, and then he surges forward, filling me in one deep thrust. A pleased groan rips through the room.

"Oh God," I moan loudly, writhing beneath him as pain and pleasure mingle, driving me higher.

"God can't help you now, sweetheart," he says, holding himself still to let me adjust to his size. And then he begins to move. Just as he promised, he doesn't take it easy on me, instead driving his cock into me hard and fast, over and over.

The bed rocks and groans beneath us, the headboard thumping against the wall. I don't even care. Let the entire hotel hear us, just so long as he keeps fucking me like this. I claw at the sheets, holding on for dear life as he takes me like he owns me, like he can't stop.

Moans and grunts fall from my lips in a steady stream as I rock back against him, taking him as deep as I can. He presses down on my back, pushing my torso closer to the bed and lifting my ass higher. The change in angle causes the head of his cock to nudge at my cervix with every hard thrust. I go wild as the small pain explodes into an intense pleasure, rocking back against him faster.

"Goddamn," he growls, his balls striking against my ass with solid slaps.

One hand digs into my hip as he holds me in place so hard I know I'll have bruises. That's okay with me. I
want
them…want proof that he was here. His other hand drifts down my back and over the swell of my ass, and then his finger is right there, pressing against my back entrance. He teases me relentlessly before slowly easing a single digit inside me.

"That's it, kitten," he says when I unravel, any lingering reservations or restraint annihilated. "Go wild for me. This tight pussy is mine now, and so is this sweet ass. No one else gets in here. No one else gets to touch you. Just me, you understand? Just me."

His possessive words and the dirty things he's doing to me send me over the edge into a screaming orgasm. His name rips from my lips so loud my throat aches. I lose control, bucking beneath him as wave after wave crashes over me, drowning me in so much pleasure, the world momentarily goes black.

When I come back to myself, Cam has flipped me over onto my back. His gaze is locked on my face and sweat drips down his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are on fire. He's still moving within me, one of my legs wrapped around his hip as he takes me slower, fucking me through the aftershocks.

"Wish you could see what you look like coming on my cock," he says, his gaze so hot it burns. "I gotta see it again. Give me another one, sweetheart."

I shake my head against the pillow he's placed under my head. My body can't take any more. Every inch of me is overly sensitized, throbbing. "Can't," I groan, trembling as another aftershock runs through me.

"Don't fight me, kitten. Give me what I want." He lifts my leg higher, pressing a kiss against my calf before his pace quickens. His free hand slips between us, dancing through my folds to my clit.

I cry out when he circles the swollen flesh, instantly catapulting me back to the edge.

"Fuck," he growls, leaning down to take my mouth in a brutal, punishing kiss. He bites my bottom lip hard before he pulls back, his hand dancing over my clit in dizzying circles. "Wanna feel you clamping down on my cock when I come in you. Give it to me, kitten."

"Please," I whimper. "Please, Cam."

"Come for me again, kitten," he growls, sinking his teeth into the hollow between my neck and shoulder. He sucks the skin into his mouth, tonguing it. "Let me feel your juices dripping down my balls."

I come hard at his words.

"Fuck yes!" He loses it, driving his cock in and out of me hard and fast.

Every deep thrust sends another shockwave of pleasure through me, extending my orgasm until I feel like it's never going to end. Until I'm certain this is how I want to die: with Cam above me, fucking me so hard I can't catch my breath.

He thrust into me a final time and stills, roaring my name as he comes. His cock jerks as he fills me, his hand clamped down hard against my thigh. I can't take my eyes off his face. His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted, ecstasy stamped across his flushed face. He looks like sin.

I moan loudly at the gorgeous sight, my inner muscles still clenching around his cock, coaxing every last drop from him.

He collapses on top of me, his forearms on the bed on either side of my head to keep from crushing me with his weight. He's breathing hard, his chest moving rhythmically as he gulps one lungful of air after another.

I'm breathing heavily, too, drained of energy.

"Goddamn, kitten," he says when he's caught his breath again. He nuzzles his face into my throat, placing a gentle kiss to my racing pulse. "You made me come so fucking hard, it hurt." With a groan, he eases back, allowing his still hard cock to slip from me, and then he drops down beside me, tugging me over until my head rests against his chest.

His heart pounds beneath my ear as he places a sweet kiss to my sweaty forehead, brushing wet strands of hair back from my face. I lay there for long moments, snuggled up against him, completely sated and floating in euphoria as he runs gentle hands all over me.

I could easily become addicted to him and the things he can do to me. No one has ever made me come so hard before. I'm almost certain no one else ever will again. This man already owns my body, and I'm not stupid enough to ask for it back.

When I can move again, I push against his chest, intending to go to the bathroom to clean up.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks, grabbing me before I can slip away.

"To clean up."

"Nu-uh," he says, rolling me underneath him. He cages me in with his big body, holding me hostage. His lips find mine again, his hand sliding down my side and over my hip to hitch my leg over his. "You aren't leaving this bed, sweetheart. I'm only just getting started with you."

chapter eleven

nirvana

"So your dad was a cop, too?" I ask Cam, dipping my spoon into the almost empty container of fried rice before bringing it to my lips. With a full belly and a satisfied ache between my legs, I feel better than I have in days.

"Yeah," he says, offering me a piece of General Tso's Chicken on his fork. "He was the Sheriff of San Mateo County when he decided to retire five years ago. He spent most of his life on the force. I wanted to be just like him when I was a kid. I enrolled in the academy as soon as I turned twenty-one."

"What did your mom do?" I ask after swallowing the bite of chicken.

"She worked in advertising for a tech company. Now, she and my dad travel the world. What about your parents? What did they do?"

"My mom was a teacher," I murmur, shaking my head when he offers me another piece of his chicken. I'm too full to eat anything else. Putting my spoon down, I set my container aside and curl my feet under me on the sofa.

"Like you."

"Yeah." I smile wistfully. "I idolized her growing up."

"Bet she'd be proud of you," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and then tracing the plane of my cheek. "You're pretty incredible, kitten."

I blush, which makes him smile, that dimple popping out.

"What did your father do?"

"My dad was a professional competitive surfer. He blew his knee when I was thirteen and had to retire. After that, he spent his time as a sports photographer."

"Really?"

"You didn't look them up when you were investigating me?"

"I did," he admits and then he pauses, focusing inquisitive eyes on me. "The kid who caused the accident was never prosecuted."

I glance down at my lap to escape his probing gaze, tugging on the hem of the t-shirt I borrowed from him. "It was an accident. He was driving too fast and trying to text his fiancée. He had a baby at home. Prosecuting him wouldn't have changed anything for my dad or brought my mom and sister back."

He's quiet for a moment, absorbing this information. "Were you and your sister close?"

"Yeah." Memories of the two of us immediately spring to mind, bringing a swell of emotion with them. "Amelia was two years younger than me, but she was my best friend. We were inseparable. I've never known anyone as smart as she was, or as sweet. There was this light about her that just attracted people. Everyone loved her. When she laughed, you couldn't help but laugh with her."

"Losing her must have been hard for you."

"It was hell. It took a long time to learn to live without her. Meeting Erin my freshman year at UCLA helped, but I still sometimes find myself picking up my phone to call Amelia when something exciting happens in my life." I tug on my hem again, frowning sadly. "I miss her every day."

"I'm so sorry, kitten."

"Me too."

Cam sets his food down and pushes the small table out of the way before sliding closer to me. He picks me up and settles me on his lap, wrapping his arms around me. I lay my head on his shoulder and breathe him in, letting him ease the pain I'll always feel over losing my sister and parents. Even before my dad died, the man I worshipped was gone. I'm not even sure if he knew who I was after the accident.

A traumatic brain injury, the doctors called it.

It felt more like hell to me.

I absently trace the edges of the sunburst tattoo on Cam's chest, loving the way his skin feels beneath my fingertips.

He rubs my back, his lips against my forehead.

"I should probably go soon," I say a few minutes later, reluctant to leave the comfort of his embrace.

"You should stay."

"My car," I remind him.

"Do you want to leave, kitten?" he asks, tilting my head so I have to look at him.

"No."

"Then stay."

"I can't leave my car on campus overnight," I say softly. "They'll tow it if it isn't gone by midnight."

"What's your license plate number?"

"I don't know. What's yours?"

He rattles his off without hesitation. I'm honestly not surprised. He seems to remember everything. Whether that's because he's a cop and it's a necessity of the job or because he's Cam, I don't know. A little of both, probably.

"You drive a Kia Optima, right? A blue one?"

I nod, not even bothering to ask how he knows that.

He stares at me for a moment, rubbing his thumb across my cheek, and then he shifts beneath me. His hand disappears into his pocket before he pulls out his phone.

"Who are you calling?"

He shoots me a little smile, but doesn't answer. I watch with interest as he dials a number, placing the phone to his ear. With me sitting on his lap, I can hear the line ringing.

"UCLA Police Department, how can I help you?" a friendly female voice asks after the third ring.

"This is Detective Cameron Lewis with the San Francisco Police Department," he says and then rattles off his badge number.

"Yes, sir. How can I help you?"

"I've left a blue Kia Optima parked in the lot outside of the Alumni Center there on campus. My placard isn't in the vehicle, but I'd like to ensure it isn't towed if it's left overnight. You can check my credentials with Lieutenant Cook if necessary."

"Oh, that won't be necessary, detective," she tells him. "He sent out an email letting everyone know that you'll be here for the next few days, following up on leads in reference to the Clark case. What color did you say that Optima is again?"

"Blue."

"I'll let our guys know about the car so they don't have it towed."

"I appreciate it," he says and then hangs up. He turns to me, a smug look on his face, and a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. "Happy now?"

"What if they run my tags and see that it's my car instead of yours?" I ask instead of answering, still uneasy at the thought of dragging him down with me. A cop sleeping with a suspect is definitely not something anyone would find amusing.

"What if they do?"

I pull away from him, glaring. He's so frustrating.

"Don't look at me like that, kitten. I told you I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." He climbs to his feet and starts gathering up the remnants of our dinner. "This isn't my case and we're not doing anything wrong, so stop stressing out about something that isn't going to happen."

"Fine." I throw my hands up, knowing arguing with him isn't going to get me anywhere. But still…staying the night is huge. Bigger than I'm ready for, I think. "I don't have clothes here," I say instead of telling him that.

"Where are you staying?"

"Um, not far," I mumble and then grab a couple of containers and hurry toward the kitchen to toss them in the trashcan. Once done, I turn the faucet on to wet a few paper towels to wipe down the coffee table, trying to avoid looking at him for as long as possible.

I jump when he presses into me from behind, caging me in against the sink.

"Where, kitten?" he growls in my ear, sending goosebumps up and down my arms.

"Mid-City," I say, giving in with a sigh.

His body tenses, his arms going rigid. He curses before spinning me around. His face is a thundercloud, his eyes dark and stormy, pissed. "You're kidding me," he says.

"I can't exactly afford to stay anywhere else. I've been placed on administrative leave," I remind him. Mid-City isn't the greatest area of Los Angeles, but it's not the worst, either. And, unlike him, I don't have an income at the moment.

"Hell no," he growls, not in the least mollified by my reminder. "You aren't staying there. We're going to get your shit in the morning before we pick up your car. You can stay here with me until we head back to San Francisco."

"No." I push against his chest, forcing him to back up a couple of steps.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not staying here!" I shout, frustrated that he just doesn't get why this is a problem for me.

"Then I'll pack up my shit and stay with you," he says as if I didn't just shout at him.

I gape at him, trying to decide if he's serious.

He is. Deadly serious.

And I am so not having this argument with him.

Shaking my head, I storm past him to my pile of clothes in the chair by the desk. Before I can yank my pants on though, he's there, taking them out of my hands and tossing them behind him. And then I'm flying through the air again, tossed on the bed as if I weigh nothing.

He's on top of me before I can roll off the side, straddling me so I can't get away.

"Stop manhandling me," I huff, pushing against his chest. It's useless though. He's like a mountain, too damned big to move. I stop struggling and glare up at him, so mad I can't see straight.

"Then stop trying to run from me," he says, grabbing my arms and pinning them to the bed on each side of my head.

"I wouldn't have to run if you'd stop trying to boss me around." Maybe I am a little submissive at times, but that doesn't mean I can't support myself or make my own decisions about where I'm staying.

He narrows his eyes on me. I'm not sure what he sees on my face, but his expression softens. "Talk to me, kitten. What'd I do to piss you off?"

"I don't need a keeper," I growl at him. "I may not have much, but I can take care of myself."

He eyes me for a moment and then shakes his head like he can't figure me out. "You think I don't know that? You've been taking care of yourself since you were a teenager."

"Exactly!"

"But you aren't alone anymore, sweetheart. I'm here. Let me help."

"You aren't helping," I mumble, sounding like a petulant four-year-old. "You're trying to boss me into doing what you want me to do."

He brushes my hair back from my face. "Mid-City is rough, especially for a woman alone. I don't want something happening to you because you're hell-bent on proving to the world that you can survive on your own. You've already proved that, kitten. You've been proving it since you were seventeen years old."

I stare at him, not sure what to say.

"I want you with me," he continues before I can find words, his voice a quiet rumble. "In this bed or in one in Mid-City if that's what makes you happy. I don't care. But I want to know you're safe while we're here. Not because you can't take care of yourself, but because you don't have to. I'm not going anywhere." He leans forward and brushes his lips lightly across mine. "Stop fighting me."

"I already owe you so much," I whisper.

"You don't owe me anything. I'm right where I want to be."

"My entire life is a mess. What if being with me messes up yours, too?"

"I already told you I make my own decisions," he says.

"What if your decision ruins your career?"

He shrugs like the thought doesn't concern him, but it still concerns me. Whether he's on this case officially or not, he's still involved with it. The rest is just semantics, and he knows as well as I do that if anyone finds out about us, he's screwed. I don't want to be responsible for ruining his life, and I'm terrified I will be. I like him, more than I should. More than is good for him. I don't want him to have a reason to regret being with me.

"I'm so scared, Cam," I admit through tears. My body goes limp beneath his when I confess the truth.

"You think I don't know how scared you are, kitten?" he asks, wiping my tears away. "You think I don't see how much you're struggling? You think I don't know how much this entire investigation is hurting you? I
know
this is killing you, sweetheart. And I can't protect you from what's already happened, but I can help you through it. You just have to let me."

"I'm trying, but I'm not used to having someone else to lean on." I should probably stop while I'm ahead, but now that I'm talking, I can't seem to stop myself. "I've never been with anyone like you before. It's overwhelming, Cam.
You're
overwhelming, especially when you get bossy."

"Kitten." He shakes his head. "I don't tell you how things are going to be because you can't take care of yourself. I tell you how things are going to be because you need to know that you're safe with me. I've got you, kitten, and I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. Trust that I know what you need, and that I'll give it to you."

"I'm trying," I say again.

"Good." He grins down at me. "That's all I want from you. A chance."

"Promise me I won't ruin your life," I plead quietly.

"You could never ruin my life, sweetheart." He sounds so certain. That same confidence is stamped across every gorgeous line of his face.

I take a deep breath and nod, praying he's right. He has to be, because I'm not sure I can live with anything else.

He smiles at me, giving me that dimple again, and then his eyes darken with desire. "Now let's see how good you can be," he whispers, leaning down to kiss my lips once more before working his way down my body, leaving a trail of fire everywhere his mouth touches.