Be Mine Forever (15 page)

J
o folded her legs beneath her on the leather couch in Cam’s living room, still shaken by that kiss and the secret Cam had finally shared.

Molested.

It had never occurred to her. What were the signs? She had no idea, but she didn’t think he’d exhibited any that would have alerted her. Cam had a more-than-healthy sexual appetite. He’d been angry and belligerent when he’d first come to their camp, but a lot of the foster kids had been. He’d quickly adapted, and it hadn’t taken long for his naturally wicked, twisted sense of humor to emerge. He’d kept them all laughing and had been the life of the party most of the time. Sure, he had his broody moments, and she had realized there were things in his past he’d never discussed, but this?

Glass slamming on the coffee table snapped Jo back into the moment. Cam was about to pour himself another glass of whiskey, but she leaned forward, hand covering his on the bottle.

“Hey, let’s give Dr. Daniel’s a rest.” She raised her eyebrows, nodding toward the glass on the table. “And you need a coaster for that.”

She knew she had calculated correctly when he grinned, sliding the bottle away and leaning back on the couch. He pulled her bare feet into his lap and massaged some secret, knotted places in the arch of her foot.

“As heavenly as that feels, you will not distract me, Cameron Mitchell, from the subject at hand.”

“I’m worried about your feet, not your hands, baby.”

“Cam.” She pulled her feet away and scooted over until she could tuck her shoulder under his arm. “Talk to me.”

She was close enough to hear him swallow. Close enough to hear the
thump thump thumping
cadence of his heartbeat. Close enough to feel his muscles go tight against her.

“Maybe you could ask me questions, because I’m not sure where to start with all this crap.”

She leaned her head back to look up at him. One arm was over her shoulder, and he was toying with one of the many errant curls swelling around her shoulders from the humidity. The other hand lay in his lap, and he was tapping some rhythm with his fingers against his palm. His knee bounced like Mexican jumping beans had hatched in his pants.

Of course he was nervous.

“Okay.” She touched his knee, stilling the frenetic bounce. “I’ll ask questions.”

She settled herself against him, stroking her hand up and down his forearm. Cam’s chest rose with a deep breath like he was going underwater.

“The man who did it, is he dead yet?” Jo had never used her family’s power for evil, but she had never felt the black rage enveloping her at the sound of that man’s name, and she knew that she would if that man was still alive.

“Yeah, he’s dead.”

“How’d he die?”

“He’s just dead.”

“Okay.” Mental note to revisit later. “When did this happen?”

“Off and on from the time I was ten ’til I was eleven. Maybe a year or so.” He pressed his eyes closed, long lashes brushing his cheeks. “I can’t do details, Jo, so don’t ask me.”

“I don’t want to know details.” Jo pulled away from the warmth of his body, sitting forward with her elbows on her knees. “How does what happened affect you now? Did you ever get help?”

“I don’t need help.”

She allowed a slow push of breath through her nostrils before looking at him over her shoulder.

“Is this what your nightmares are about? Is this why you don’t sleep?”

Cam dragged his eyes away from hers, fixing them on the empty fireplace, dormant in the summer heat. He nodded.

“For a long time, I thought I had gotten away scot-free.” He swallowed. “A lot of people talk about how after something like this, they can’t have sex or feel conflicted about their sexuality. Fear of sexual contact. I didn’t have any of that. I liked girls and I loved sex.”

“I do recall.” She offered him a wry grin.

“You remember when I was eighteen and I got word that my mom had died in prison?” Cam reached for his glass of Jack, knocking back the last little bit. “I had my first nightmare that night.”

“What do you dream about?” Jo didn’t know why she whispered, but it suddenly felt like they weren’t alone anymore. Like some evil presence lurked and listened in the shadowy corners.

“Him.” Cam’s fingers tightened around the glass until the color ebbed away under his skin. “The things he did to me.”

Cam’s expression was an open wound she couldn’t make herself probe. Even though he had asked for questions, she sensed it was time for her to be quiet.

“It was like…it
is
like…it’s happening again. It’s so real I smell him. I hear him.” Cam’s fingers dug deep trails in his wild hair. “I feel him like it’s happening again, and I’m just as helpless as I was then.”

“Have you considered talking to anyone about it?” She knew it was one of those questions she already knew the answer to. “I think talking to someone might help.”

Cam’s brows jerked together, and Jo almost wanted to pull the words back between her lips. Except they needed to be said.

“I’ve got this, Jo. It’s under control.”

“Under control?” Jo willed her voice to remain even, though her whole body felt like a hiccup. “We’ve spent every night together this week, and you’re gone every morning when I wake up.”

“I’m an early riser.” Cam stood and walked over to the fireplace, knocking his shoe against the stacked stone. “I like to paint in the morning. All that natural light.”

“You said you wanted questions…well, here’s one for you.” Jo approached the next words like a kamikaze mission. “Is this why you won’t make love to me?”

Cam stroked the poker by the fireplace, and Jo knew if he could run that poker through this conversation and put it out of its misery, he would. His shoulders stiffened and then fell. He faced her, leaning his back against the mantel.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Well, untangle it for me, Cam.” Jo sat cross-legged on the couch, tucking her hands under her thighs.

Cam looked down at his feet, crossed at the ankles.

“I started having the dreams a lot more a few years ago, after Kerris and I got married.” Cam shrugged and shook his head. “Not that it was her fault. That’s just when they started more regularly. Still not every night, just more frequent than they had ever been.”

“And now?” Jo held her breath while she waited to hear about what she only suspected.

He lifted his eyes from the floor, but it was like he peered through blinds, letting out tiny bits of information through the slats.

“Now it’s every night.” Cam sat down on the stone hearth. “And I feel unstable.”

“What do you mean, unstable?”

“It’s like all my emotions are right there at the surface, and I sometimes feel like I’m this spark that could turn into an inferno if I’m not careful.”

He loaded the look he gave her with meaning.

“And I don’t feel very careful when I have sex.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, rubbing the denim covering his thighs. “So I haven’t in a while.”

“What’s a while?”

“The last time was in Paris a few months ago.” Cam hung his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “She said I was rough.”

The word “rough” abraded Jo’s nerves and commanded the hairs on her arms to attention. Fear built a bridge to fantasy in her mind and she started running across it right away. Rough sex with Cam sounded like a heavenly spiked dream.

“Rough how?”

“I don’t know.” Cam shrugged. “It’s not that I blacked out or anything, but I kind of lost myself for a few minutes.”

“I think that’s pretty typical.”

“She had marks on her I didn’t remember leaving, Jo.”

“What kind of marks?”

“Bruises where I gripped her thighs too hard. Bites on her…” Cam swallowed and Jo could have sworn she saw red creep under his olive skin. “Bite marks on her ass. Scratches on her back.”

Jo popped to her feet and lifted the hair off her neck. She fanned her face.

“I think I need some air.”

She walked out to the front porch and sat on the swing, dropping her head into her hands. Good God, was it too dark to run? Did she have her knitting kit? She was so wet and hot between her legs, like a kerosene fire. Bite marks on the ass? Was it so wrong that all she could think was, “Yes, please”?

Cam walked out onto the porch, leaning against one of its beams.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” He walked over to sit beside her on the swing, taking her hand between his. “If you want out, tell me now. I don’t blame you for being scared. I don’t even know what I’m capable of. I’d kill myself before I’d hurt you, Jo. Even if we don’t go any further, you have to believe that.”

She could pretend that it was fear that had run her out of the cottage, or she could own up to the steamy truth that him bruising and scratching her basically left her sopping wet.

“Cam, I don’t want out.” She covered her eyes with her hand, even as her words gave up the truth. “I want way in.”

Cam pulled her hand down, forcing her to let him see. The porch light highlighted the confusion on his face.

“So hearing that didn’t scare you off?”

“After all these years, you think that is what will finally rid you of me?”

Cam pulled her onto his lap and set the swing in motion with one foot.

“Does it look like I’m trying to get rid of you?” Cam kissed the top of her head and laced their fingers together. “So you’re not scared I might bite you? Like lose control and hurt you if we…”

“
When
we, buddy. I’ll overheat like a radiator if we don’t soon.” She smiled when his chuckle rumbled through her back. “And I’m the opposite of scared.” She hid her face in the crook of his neck. “I hightailed it out of there because I was so turned on by the thought of you biting my ass.”

Cam pulled back so fast she almost fell off the swing.

“Are you shitting me?” His eyes widened, his mouth hanging open a bit. “Jo, we are a dangerous combination.”

“Let’s live on the edge together, then.”

“You’re into knife play, too? That’s a relief. I thought it’d be a problem.”

Jo went stiff and glanced by increments until she reached his face. Geesh. Knives!

The laugh he apparently couldn’t hold back bounced off the trees in the quiet around them.

“I’m just kidding, baby. I’m not into knives.”

Breath deflated Jo’s chest.

“What
are
you into?”

He cocked his head to the side, running a finger over her cheekbone.

“You.”

“Are you trying to distract me from the conversation we were having by being irresistible?”

“Pretty much.”

“Cam!”

“There’s nothing more to talk about. Now you know what happened. The nightmares. The fact that I’m afraid I’ll lose control and scar you when we finally do it.”

“Did you just say ‘do it’?” Jo laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Are we in high school? Should we also neck in your car or meet under the bleachers?”

“What
should
I say?” He leaned forward until the words misted her lips. “When I fuck you? Is that what you want me to say?”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me?”

Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.

The humor seeped from his eyes but didn’t leave them empty. Something Jo recognized as tenderness filled up those eyes that could undo her between blinks without much effort at all.

“I think that what I’m going to do to you, I’ve never done to anyone else. I fully expect to worship you, Jo.”

“I don’t want to be worshipped.”

“Too bad.”

P
retty impressive, huh?”

Cam looked away from the infinity pool and back to his agent Sebastian. You’d seen one pool drop over the edge, you’d seen them all.

“Sure. Yeah.” Cam studied the Malibu mansion grounds of the producer who had flown them in almost a week ago now. “Is this meeting gonna happen or what? We’ve been here a week and I haven’t met this producer yet.”

“We’ve gotten a lot done.” Sebastian’s fingers hovered over his perfectly pomaded hair but never quite touched it. “You scoped locations for the painting. And met the production team.”

“Yeah, I know. We found some good bridges, but I’d like to know more about the story before I start going too far down any path in my head.”

Cam’s art had been used before for music videos and even a couple of films, but this was the first time he was being commissioned to paint specifically for the story line, instead of pulling from pieces he had already created.

“I want to get this over with so we can head back home.” Cam coughed to hide his smile. Thinking about Jo did that to his mouth. So despite having to leave before they’d gotten to cover any more of his past—and, hey, no complaints from him on that score—he was smiling a lot more than he had planned to on this trip.

“You know, you’ve been a real spoilsport ever since we left Rivermont.”

“Dude, did you just say ‘spoilsport’?” Cam offered his open palm. “Give it. Right now.”

“What?” Sebastian furrowed his brow. (
That really was the only way to describe it. A real life furrow.
) “Give what?”

“Your man card. No guy says ‘spoilsport’ and gets away with it.” Cam chuckled when Sebastian just rolled his eyes and adjusted his lightweight linen jacket. “And did you come as Sonny Crockett? Did someone forget to tell me it was National
Miami Vice
Day?”

Sebastian allowed his stiff mouth to loosen just enough to crack a smile.

“Oh, and you’re such a clotheshorse.” He gestured to Cam’s battered jeans, Walsh Foundation T-shirt, and Chucks.

“Clotheshorse?” Cam shook his head. “If you weren’t already out of man cards, I’d have to take it for that one, too. You gotta stop watching BBC, Bash.”

“You know I love
Sherlock
and
Downton
.”

“To each his own.” Cam pulled out his phone, checking for the fifty millionth time to see if he had a text or voice mail from Jo.

Nope. Cam slumped in the teak patio chair. God, he missed her.

“You expecting a call?” Sebastian reached for the fruity appetizers that had been left out for them while they waited for this producer to finally show. “You keep checking your phone.”

“Was hoping for a call from my girl, but she’s in meetings all afternoon.”

With damn Peter.

Cam gripped the phone a little tighter. He knew Jo was all his, but being married to someone who’d hidden from her feelings for another man for years? Especially when that man was your best friend? Yeah, that chafed.

Chafed
? He was worse than Bash.

“You have a girl?”

Cam looked up from his phone a little at a time until he encountered Sebastian’s curious stare.

“You didn’t think I could get a girl, or something?”

“Obviously you could. You have.” Bash gave him an envy-sprinkled grin. “Quite a lot of them actually. I just didn’t think you had
a
girl. Like one.”

“Well, you’re my agent, not my BFF, so maybe there’s stuff you don’t know.”

“Who is she?”

Cam cracked his neck. He didn’t have time for this. He looked back toward the house, willing Producer Man to walk through the door any minute now. He wasn’t sure why he was so reluctant to talk about his relationship with Jo. Probably because anyone who knew her would wonder the same thing he did: What the hell was she thinking? Didn’t she know she could do better?

“Is this guy coming, or what, Bash?”

“Tell me who she is.” Now Sebastian was just enjoying himself. Cam had seen that glint in his eye once before. “Somebody I know?”

“Yeah, I guess you know her.”

Who didn’t?

“That hotel heiress?”

Cam had forgotten Bash and Etty met in Paris.

“No, Etty and I are just friends. Always. I’m not getting on that crazy train.”

“That art student you took home that night? She was American, right?” Sebastian wiggled his eyebrows. He was probably going for suggestive, but it just looked like a creepy Garfield.

“No. We just had that one night.”
And apparently I was too rough for her.
“That was more than enough.”

“What’s with all the guessing?” Sebastian’s impatience elbowed out the curiosity in his tone.

“It’s Jo.”

A moment of silence for the death of all Sebastian’s preconceived notions.

“Jo as in Jo Walsh?” Sebastian’s eyebrows almost disappeared into the small patch of hair he left hanging over his forehead to appear less uptight. “She’s not dating that guy Peter?”

“No, she’s not dating damn Peter.” The anger was irrational. Cam knew that, but he couldn’t stem the flow of it through his veins and out of his mouth. “Where’d you hear that?”

Sebastian raised his hands like Cam’s words were a stickup.

“I just saw them out a few times weeks ago. Must have been before the two of you were a thing. Easy.”

There was nothing “easy” about this. Waiting for this guy to show when he really just wanted to be back in Rivermont, sorting things out with Jo so they could move on.

Move on? Like to what was next? Like next level? Like take the relationship to the next level? Like intimacy? Like sharing and trusting and getting serious next level? Did he want that enough to risk hurting her? To keep himself in check so he
didn’t
ever hurt her?

A menagerie of images from the last few weeks flashed through his mind. As vivid and real as if he were painting them himself in the air. Jo at the hotel, looking more like a college student than the all-grown-up philanthropic titan she was becoming. Pushing him to trust her. Jo crying in the gazebo, saying she was ready to let him go but still fighting with her last breath to hold on. Jo at a run-down skating rink, slumming with him. Laughing and falling and dancing and making a trip back to his old neighborhood less hellish than usual. Jo by the river, laying out her hurts like diary entries she’d never shared with anyone.

What an honor. Jo, who guarded everything so closely and trusted so few, was always offering him everything. Consistently, systematically, she had peeled away all the armor she usually wrapped so closely around herself. For him. He realized it now. Saw it clearly.

Just as he turned toward the house, ready to leave and hop on the next plane back to Rivermont, a middle-aged man walked through the glass doors, paunch first.

“Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting.” He gestured toward the infinity pool. “Hope you’ve been enjoying the view.”

Seriously? Keep us waiting for days and we’re supposed to be placated by a freaking you-seen-one-you-seen-them-all domesticated waterfall?
Cam checked his impatience. Sebastian really wanted this deal to happen, so he settled into his seat and pushed his lips into a smile for the producer’s benefit. He’d cooperate. He’d play nice. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could get home to Jo.

That really did have a nice ring to it.