Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3) (5 page)

Chapter 12

Dusk is beginning to cover the City as Camila wakes up. She rolls over, half-surprised to see Marshall sleeping next to her. The way they’d spent the past twelve hours made it seems as if it were all a dream. She’s never met someone she hasn’t grown tired of after a few hours. The feeling is both troubling and exciting. Like walking the tightrope between doing what’s right and what feels good.

Camila gets out of bed quietly, pushing away those thoughts. In the real world, neither goes together perfectly, and she can’t afford to let anyone get in the way of her goals. Not even if that person has a beautiful smile, an incredible body rivaled only by his intelligence, and the ability to bring her to orgasm. A smile spreads across her face as she remembers the way he kissed her. She’ll never forget how good it felt to open herself to him that way and for that trust to be reciprocated.

She opens her eyes when she hears a knock on the bathroom door. “Everything alright in there?” Marshall asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Camila replies, flushing the toilet.

“I got worried when I didn’t feel you next to me,” he says through the door.

Feel
? The way he says that word makes Camila’s pussy tremble. He’s made her feel all sorts of things in the past 12 hours.

Camila dries her hands on a towel hanging by the pedestal sink and opens the door. “Where did you think I went? I’m the one who lives here, remember?”

Marshall smiles, his eyes raking over Camila’s naked body. “That’s precisely why I thought it was strange when I didn’t see you.”

Camila squeezes his cheeks between her damp hands. “You’re an irrational freak.”

Marshall gathers her into his arms. “Maybe. But this freak likes the way you feel to him.”

The tone of his voice is an invitation to Camila. She’s not quite finished with Marshall either. The
why
isn’t something she’d like to consider just yet. She allows herself to fall into his kiss, which they take deeper and deeper until his erection is pressed up against her sex.

“If we keep going this way, I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow,” Camila says between kisses.

“I’ll be happy to help you convalesce. I can massage those overworked muscles.” His hand sweeps over her pussy.

Marshall lifts Camila and brings her into the shower with him. “Maybe this will help.”

She shouts when he turns on the cold tap first. “This is no way to endear me to you.”

He pushes his cock into her sensitive cunt. “I thought this is how I endeared myself to you.”

Camila’s head rolls back against the shower wall. He’s had her in so many positions since this morning, but this is by far one of the deepest. His murmurs about the way she feels and tastes are all but lost on her now as he takes her slow and deep.

She bites her bottom lip, afraid her cries will echo off the cold tile walls of the bathroom.

“I’m not getting enough of you,” Marshall says, nipping at her neck with his soft lips. He brings them around to the other side and up to her ear where he traces the shell with his tongue. “Why is that?” He whispers.

Water falls down around them as Camila avoids answering him. She licks and bites along his collarbone, as he penetrates her even deeper, which she hadn’t realized was possible.

From her ear, he travels back to her mouth. He’s never known anyone to possess so many of the qualities he likes. Often, he’ll meet a woman who’s intelligent and attractive but rarely does she captivate him with both her ideas and her sex. Camila defied all of his expectations.

Marshall grips her waist tighter, pressing himself against her clit to give them more friction. Camila leans back and watches him move in and out of her cunt. She takes his hand and starts to suck his fingers, spending time on his thumb, which drives him wild.

He lowers his face to her tits and sucks each one, water continuing to cascade over Camila’s sensitive skin. She closes her eyes and allows the feeling of him inside of her and his lips everywhere else to take over. She doesn’t want to consider what her world will look like when he leaves her apartment because she knows it will feel a little bit empty.

Within minutes Camila’s back to that place of wanting and desire, of pleasure and pain, as he pushes himself further and deeper and harder, thrusting in and out of her slick pussy. Once again, her pleasure becomes his as he murmurs how badly he wants her to come around his cock, to milk it until he has nothing left. They cry out in mutual ecstasy as he releases himself into her. Marshall gently sets her down, kissing her face and her neck, holding her under the warm water until it runs cold.

Chapter 13

“Do you eat anything other than breakfast?” Marshall asks Camila as she wraps her hair in a towel.

“Of course. I just don’t usually have time because of my job so I mostly snack all day. Why? Do my eating habits disturb you?”

“I’m not one to lecture anyone about her habits, especially
you
,” he replies, hanging his towel over the shower rod. “I was merely trying to gauge what the chances would be of you agreeing to come to dinner with me tonight.”

Camila stares back at him through the mirror in the medicine cabinet door. “That sounds like a date.”

“There’s no need to label it,” Marshall says. “Two people eating dinner in the same restaurant and engaging in conversation is a perfectly civilized way to spend an evening.”

Camila continues to watch him through the reflection in the mirror, unsure of how to answer.
First a drink, then breakfast followed by another breakfast to life-altering sex and now dinner
? “It sounds like a date.” She stops combing her wet hair.

Marshall steps toward her and wraps his arms around her stomach. “So what if it is?” He buries his face in her neck.

Camila sets down the comb and turns around. “I don’t date, remember?” She replies. Although, by her fourth orgasm, when he had her almost upside down on her bed, even she had to wonder if it would be worth reconsidering her rules. But if she’s learned anything from the past thirty-six hours, Marshall would only distract her from her most important law school year yet. In less than five days, she won’t be able to afford to spend her weekends in bed with him. As it is, she won’t have a day off between seminars, Law Review and bartending.

“It’s just a word. Dinner, date, food, wine. Whatever. Let’s just go eat together. Then maybe it will lead to some conversation where you tell me what C.C. stands for, or perhaps I’ll find out the name of your pet goldfish. You know, first date stuff.”

The expression on Camila’s face makes Marshall’s smile disappear. “So that’s it then?” He asks, taking two steps back toward the bathroom door.

“I told you, Marshall, I don’t date.” A chill settles between them, sending prickles over their skin.

It surprises Camila how easy this is for her. Shutting down that part of herself that craves touch, that craves some connection—whether spiritual, emotional, or physical or all-of-the above like she had with Marshall. It was spectacular, but it already occupies the past tense in her mind.
Was
. She could plead with him to give her time, maybe find her during her winter break. They could hook up then, but she can tell by the look in his eyes what his answer will be. He has far too much self-respect to become her booty call. And she respects him too much to ask. He’s not like the others. He wants more, and he makes her want to consider that. It’s a dangerous combination that has to end before it can begin or she’ll regret everything.

Camila nods slowly, ignoring the nagging doubts and her body’s rebellion. So much of her is screaming not to do it, to at least try, but she refuses to sacrifice any part of her life and her future for anyone.

Marshall reaches behind him and opens the door.

Camila leans against the doorframe and watches as he dresses.

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?” He says angrily. “You think you need to be some lone wolf in this world? What the hell are you trying to protect yourself from?”

Camila stares back, leaving his questions unanswered. She won’t answer them because she already knows the answers. Of course she feels alone in this world. For as long as she can remember, her parents ingrained in her that the world was unfair to women, that it would destroy her if she let it. The only way to survive it is to get an education, and not give up her dreams for anyone. Meeting Marshall just when she’s on the cusp of embarking on her career isn’t just a cruel twist of fate, it’s the world showing her once again how unfair it all is. Allowing him to walk out of her life is Camila’s way of protecting herself from the expectations that come with being in relationship, sublimating her needs to ensure another person’s happiness. She refuses to fall into that trap.

Marshall throws his shirt over his head and grabs his keys, wallet and phone from the bookshelf by the window that overlooks Norfolk Street. “I don’t get you, C.C.”

“There’s nothing to understand. I don’t date.”

“Yeah, you said that already.” He narrows his eyes at her, a rage and fury emanating from them.

“Dating can lead to relationships which complicate everything.”

“I think you’re the one complicating things.”

Camila looks up to match his gaze. “Possibly, but I won’t change who I am for anyone.”

“You’re completely hopeless.”

“I warned you, but you refused to believe me.”

By her silence, Camila figures her cousin is already swiping on her Tinder app. She crawls into bed, not bothering to change the sheets. She wants to fall asleep with the scent of him on her.

“But he seems like a great guy. Why can’t you give him a chance?”

“You know why. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Apparently I’ve been doing a lot of that lately
.

“I should give him your number anyway. Maybe he can stalk you.”

“Don’t you dare! Besides, I’ll block his number if you do.”

“You know what?”

“What?” Camila asks, throwing her arm over her eyes. Talking about Marshall is beginning to gnaw at something inside of her, and it makes her miss him.

“You keep pushing away men like him, you’re never going to be happy.”

“Since when should I start thinking that I need a man to make me happy.”

“Not a man, you doofus, a connection, a relationship. The love that comes from that will sustain you longer than any career.”

“Says who?”

“I’ll send you some inspiring TEDTalks. Trust me. Giving yourself over to some career will not feed your soul. It’s an empty path if you have no one to share it with.”

“I have you,” Camila replies sincerely.

“Awww, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me in weeks. I love you too. I love you so much that I’m not going to give up on finding someone who will love the neurotic, control-freaky, gorgeous person that you are.”

“Good luck with that,” Camila replies. “I’m falling asleep. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course. And I expect to hear all about Mr. Marshall James.”

Chapter 14

Camila checks her watch for the third time. She’s only taken one other seminar with Professor Stanton and not once was the professor ever late. None of the nine other students around the table appear bothered, but she had told Todd she’d be there by seven. She won’t make it by then if the class runs over to make up time. There’s definitely no way she’ll leave before anyone else either.

She reaches down to take out her phone and send Todd a text. She can usually count on him not to dock her for being fifteen or twenty minutes late. When she leans down to drop it back into her bag, she hears a voice she thought she’d never hear again.

“Apologies for my tardiness. I’d been sitting in an empty room at Furman. I didn’t realize Vanderbilt Hall also has a room 212.”

Camila’s heart begins to race. She stares down into her bag, hoping it would magically open so that she could fall into it and disappear.

“For anyone who might be as directionally challenged as I am, let me just confirm that this is a seminar on Comparative Constitutional Law.”

Camila hears her classmates murmur their response.

“I know you were all expecting Professor Stanton, but she took a leave of absence following a family emergency.”

Camila closes her eyes, wishing herself to be anywhere but where she is at the moment. Already she’s running through the course list in her mind, thinking of what she can take in place of this class.
Shit
. She had her schedule lined up so perfectly.

“My name is Marshall James, although I guess you’re supposed to call me Professor James,” he chuckles. “Before coming here, I clerked for two Supreme Court Justices.”

“Which ones?” A student asks. Camila recognizes the voice belonging to another 3L, the term for third-year students, who had been in her Lawyering class their first year. He had gone to Harvard as an undergrad and made sure everyone knew.

“I’m sure my bio is posted somewhere on the school’s website.”

“Naturally you all have busy schedules, so let’s get started. I’d rather not have to let class run over because I was late.”

Blood is rushing to Camila’s head. She needs to get up, but pride is keeping her where she is.

“Since this is a small class, let’s quickly go around the table and tell me your name and your year. I’m sure we’ll find out more about each other as the semester progresses.”

Camila still has her head buried in her bag below the table. She hasn’t even looked up to see where he’s seated, so she has no idea when she’ll be expected to speak. She takes a deep breath, followed by another, and then makes a short plea to the Universe to spare her from horrible embarrassment. When she finally sits up, she spies Marshall fourth to her right.

If she was surprised to hear Marshall’s voice, he’s clearly shocked to see her in his seminar. His dark eyes grow wide when they land on her. She quickly looks to the young woman on her left who’s just said her name.

Camila clears her throat, praying her voice doesn’t crack when she opens her mouth.
Ugh
, the very same mouth that was sucking his cock less than a week ago. The sudden memory floods Camila’s mind.
Shit shit shit
. “Camila Cohen, 3L.”

She hears him repeat her name under his breath.

After that, his voice becomes muted in her mind. She replaces it with the sound of her own, thinking and assessing her next move. None of what he’s saying will matter because she’s dropping the class as soon as she can fill out the form.

Fortunately, he doesn’t address her for the next ninety minutes. She’s never been more grateful to the Harvard grad who attempted to monopolize the discussion. Before she knows it, she hears Marshall say, “Next week we’ll explore judicial review in the different systems we discussed today.”

Camila is the first to get out of her seat. Ten steps are all she needs to escape.

“Ms. Cohen. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you briefly.” Marshall shoves his notes into his messenger bag.

“Professor James,” one of the students says, “I have a question about what you were saying about . . . .”

“You are welcome to email any questions you have. My email is on the course syllabus,” he replies curtly, not taking his eyes off Camila.

This time she’s unable to meet his gaze. It’s easier to reject someone when you think you’re never going to see him again. She rolls her right foot from side-to-side, a nervous habit.

“I’m late for work,” she says as soon as the room clears.

“I’ll walk with you then.”

Camila turns without another word, hoping being on campus will make whatever he has to say short.

“Law student, huh?”

She nods.

“And bartender by night.”

She nods again.

“Why didn’t you mention it?”

“Maybe for the same reason you didn’t tell me you’re a professor.” Camila picks up her pace as soon as they reach the small courtyard. “It didn’t come up.”

“I wonder why that is?” He asks. “Doesn’t that stuff usually enter into conversations when you first meet someone?”

Camila stops walking when they get to West 4
th
. “For some maybe. But I didn’t see the point. It doesn’t define my life any more than bartending does.”

“Doesn’t it though? Is that why you won’t make time to see me?”

Camila shrugs. “Even if it is, it wouldn’t be the only reason. Although you teaching here really nixes any possibility, however remote, doesn’t it?”

Marshall doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to. He knows she’s right.