Wait for You (23 page)

My hips ground against my hand and it felt like a cord being pulled into a tight knot deep inside me. I could feel it and I knew that it was coming, seconds away. In an instant, I pictured Cam doing this—
his
hand,
his
fingers and that was it. A moan erupted from deep inside my body as the cord unraveled, whipping through my body and scattering all my thoughts.
 

As my heart rate returned to normal and the trembles subsided, I collapsed back against the pillows, arms and legs shaking. Holy crap, so that was what that felt like? I rolled onto my side, my lips spreading into a weak grin. The pillow muffled my throaty laugh.
 

Somehow though, even as the pleasant, languid peace invaded my body, carrying me off to sleep, I knew that whatever I just felt, was lacking. That with a guy I wanted to be with—
with Cam
—all of that would’ve been amplified and I wanted that.

I wanted to feel that with Cam.

#

Brit and Jacob were just as surprised as I was that I’d agreed to go home with Cam over Thanksgiving break. I’d been afraid they’d lecture me on how absolutely insane this was, but they hadn’t. Both had acted like it was no big deal. Maybe the crazy was contagious? Besides, they’d been more interested in the other details of the date.

“So is he a good kisser?” Jacob asked.

I glanced around the class, praying that no one was paying attention. The professor hadn’t arrived yet and most looked half asleep.
 

Brit giggled. “Tell him what you told me yesterday.”

My cheeks warmed as I thought about what I’d told her on the phone when she’d asked me the same question.

“So he did kiss you?” Jacob’s dark eyes widened, but thankfully he kept his voice low.
 

Clenching my notebook to my chest, I ignored the way Brit bounced in her seat. “Yes.”

“Tell him,” she whispered.
 

Jacob nodded. “Tell me.”

I closed my eyes. “He’s a good kisser—a great kisser.”

“That is not what you said.”

A frown pulled at Jacob’s lips. “Tell me or I’m going to start shouting you kissed—”

“Okay,” I hissed, my entire body heating. The first kiss had been tender and soft. Even the second one had been a controlled exploration, but when I had laid back and he’d hovered over me? The ache was back just thinking about it, and well, that was awkward being that I was in history class. “He kissed me like he wanted to… eat me up.”

Brit giggled around her Twizzler.

Jacob’s mouth worked for several seconds and then, “I bet he did.” His brows were raised as he jerked his chin down. “Like he really wanted to eat—”

“I get what you’re saying. Thanks. Back to the important stuff,” I said, placing my notebook on my desk. “You don’t think going home with him is insane?”

Brit shook her head. “People go home with other people all the time. You know Rachel Adkins, right? She’s in your art class. She’s going home with Jared instead of flying back out to California.”

“Aren’t those two dating?” Jacob asked.

My shoulders slumped.

“Not anymore,” Brit said, pulling a Twizzler from her pack. She pointed the ropey red candy at me. “They broke up, but she still goes home with him.”

Still didn’t make me feel that much better about this. Throughout class, I alternated between paying attention to the lesson on the Middle Ages and wondering if I was really going to go through this next week while I nibbled on the Twizzler I’d swiped from Brit’s bag.
 

The truth was that going home with Cam wasn’t really even the issue. Yeah, it was about twenty-one flavors of crazy, but a huge part of me was even looking forward to it. I wanted to know more about Cam—to see his family and how he interacted with them. I wanted to know why he quit playing soccer and what he did every Friday night.
 

And I wanted… I wanted Cam.
 

In the way I hadn’t wanted a guy before, hadn’t even thought I’d truly be capable of wanting one. What I felt when he had kissed me was what I was supposed to feel. A tiny bit of panic had been there, was still there, but the curiosity overwhelmed that fear. So did the baffling warmth I felt whenever Cam was near.
   

There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to kiss Cam again. I wanted to experience what I had after he’d left with him. Kissing him wasn’t the problem. Going home wasn’t the problem.
 

I just didn’t know how much of this I was capable of. How far this—whatever it was—would actually go before old fears overshadowed the warmth.
 

#

Over the next week, I talked myself into and out of going with Cam about a million times. Right up to the moment I packed a weekender bag, I wavered back and forth. It wasn’t until I was sitting beside him in his truck Wednesday morning when I realized I was really doing this.

“Are you sure your parents are okay with this?”

Cam nodded. I’d only asked the question around a hundred times.

I started nibbling on my thumb. “And you did actually call them and ask, right?”

He slid me a sideway look. “No.”

My jaw hit me lap. “Cam!”

Tipping his head back, he laughed deeply. “I’m kidding. Chill out, Avery. I told them the day after you said you’d go. They know you’re coming and they’re excited to meet you.”

Glaring at him, I went back to chewing on my nail. “That wasn’t funny.”

He laughed again. “Yes, it was.”

“Jerk.”

“Nerd.”

I stared out the passenger window. “Bitch-ass.”

“Oh.” Cam whistled. “Them be fighting words. Keep it up and I’ll turn this truck around.”

I grinned as we hit I70. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“You’d be distraught and in tears.” There was a pause. He reached over, pulling my hand away from my mouth. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” I glanced at him. “It’s a bad habit.”

“It is.” He threaded his fingers through mine, and my heart skipped a beat. Our joined hands rested on my thigh, and I wasn’t sure what to think about that. “My sister won’t be home until early tomorrow morning. She’s doing a show in Pittsburg tonight.”

“What kind of show?” My gaze flicked from our hands to the window and back again.
 

“I think it’s a ballet recital.”
 

My attention was focused partly on the weight of his hand in mine. “Is ballet her favorite?”

“I think it’s a mix between that and contemporary.”

Contemporary used a lot of ballet and it would make sense that she’d like a mixture of those. Cam eventually let go of my hand, which was a good thing because I was sure my palm was starting to sweat and that was just gross. The two hour drive went by way too fast. It seemed like minutes had passed by the time he got off the interstate and entered a small, hilly town that seemed to have been built into the side of the mountain.
 

And boy were we smack dab in the middle of mountaineer country. From every store front hung a WVU flag, as did the porches of the small homes. We continued through the town and out onto country roads that looked like they’d just been paved recently.
 

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this nervous. My stomach roiled as he slowed and hooked a right, onto what seemed like a private road crowded with tall oak trees. My mouth was completely dry as he rounded a bend and a large, stately manor came into view.
 

It wasn’t so much that it was a huge house. The thing was big—colonial style, white pillars in the front, and three stories, but it reminded me so much of my parents’ home. Cold and perfect on the outside and mostly likely the same on the inside.
 

Cam followed the driveway behind the house and I got a closer view of the manicured lawn and beautiful, rustic landscaping. I swallowed, but my throat wasn’t really working. He pulled in next to a detached garage that was probably the size of a small ranch style home. Beyond the garage, I could see a covered, in-ground pool.

He turned the engine off and faced me, a slight small on his face. “You ready?”

I wanted to scream no and then take off, running straight for the nearby woods, but that seemed like a bit of an overreaction. So I nodded and opened the door, stepping out into temps that were at least ten degrees cooler than what we’d been in. I reached for my bag, but Cam tugged it out along with his much smaller one.
 

“I can carry it.”

Cam grinned as glanced at the bag he’d slung over his shoulder. “I’ll carry it. Besides I think the pink and blue flower print looks amazing on me.”

In spite of my nerves, I laughed. “It’s very flattering on you.”

“Thought so.” He waited for me to join him on the other side and then we started up a slate pathway that led up to a covered patio at the back of the house. He stopped just outside the glass door, beside a wicker chaise lounge. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

I winced. “That bad?”

“Close.” He stepped closer to me and his hand moved so fast. Tucking my hair back behind my ear, he lowered his head slightly. A look crossed his face, deepening the hue of his eyes until they were the darkest shade of blue. My stomach fluttered in response. “You have no reason to be nervous, okay? I promise.”

My cheek tingled where his fingers grazed and as close as we were I thought about our kiss that wasn’t a kiss. He hadn’t done anything like that since the night of our first date, but right now, I think he wanted to. “Okay,” I whispered.

He stared at me a moment longer and then shook his head. Dropping his hand, he turned to the door and opened it. A wave of warm air that smell of apple and spice spilled out, an alluring, welcoming scent. I followed him inside, eyes wide as I took the room on the lower floor in.
 

It was a game room of sorts. A large pool table in the middle, a stocked bar to the right and in the back, near the stairs, was a large TV with several comfy looking chairs in front of it. My parents had something like this, but the pool table had never been used, Mom only drank from the bar when she thought no one was paying attention, and the TV in our basement had never been turned on.
 

But everything looked… lived in down here.
 

The balls weren’t racked up in the middle, but spread across the table like someone had stopped in the middle of a game. A bottle of scotch sat on the bar top, beside a glass and the chairs were worn, obviously older furniture that had been moved from downstairs. Unlike my parents who had to have new stuff in every room in the house.
 

“This is the man cave,” Cam said as he headed for the stairs. “Dad spends a lot of time down here. There’s the poker table he kicked my ass on.”

I looked over to the left and there was just an average card table sitting there. A small smile pulled at my lips. “I like it down here.”

“So do I,” he replied. “Mom and Dad are probably upstairs…”

Nodding, I pulled myself away from the center of the room and trailed behind him. We ended up in a living room, that like the basement, had a well lived in feel. A huge sectional couch took up most of the room, placed directly in front of another large TV. Magazines were scattered across the coffee table and potted plants instead of weird statues and paintings filled almost every corner.
 

“Living room,” Cam commented, going through an archway. “And this is the second living room or some room that no one sits in. Maybe it’s a sitting room? Who knows? And this is the formal dining room that we never use but have—”

“We do to use the dining room!” came a woman’s voice. “Maybe once or twice a year, when we have company.”

“And break the ‘good dishes’ out,” Cam commented dryly.

My legs stopped working at the sound of Cam’s mother’s voice. I hovered at the end of the table, heart in my throat as his mother came through the door.
 

Cam’s mom was as tall and striking as he was, with raven-colored hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes were brown and free of make up. Tiny crows feet appeared at the corners as a wide smile broke out across her face as she spotted her son. She wore a pair of jeans and a baggy sweater.
 

She rushed across the room, enveloping him in a hug. “I don’t even know where the ‘good dishes’ are, Cameron.”

He laughed. “Wherever they are, they’re probably hiding from the paper plates.”

Laughing softly, she pulled back. “Good to have you home. Your father is starting to get on my nerves with all his going hunting talk.” Her gaze fell over his shoulders and she smiled welcomingly. “And this must be Avery?”

“Oh, God, no,” Cam said. “This is Candy, Mom.”

His mother’s eyes widened and a bit of color infused her cheeks. “Uh, I’m…”

“I’m Avery,” I said, shooting Cam a look. “You had it right.”

She spun around, smacking Cam across the arm. Hard, too. “Cameron! Oh my God, I thought…” She smacked him again and he laughed. “You’re terrible.” Shaking her head, she turned back to me. “You must be a patient young lady to have survived a trip here with this idiot.”