Wasted Words (39 page)

We walked back up to the house, hand in hand, spending the rest of the day with my family. Dinner was a loud affair, full of laughing and stories of our childhood — the more embarrassing the better, as far as my sisters were concerned. And that night, we all sat in the family room and talked until Cam was tucked into my side half asleep and yawns stretched the faces of most of the Knights.

Mom had set Cam up in the guest bedroom down the hall, though once we were dressed for bed and the house was settling down, I met Cam in the bathroom where we brushed our teeth together like we always did.

We stood in the dim hallway and said goodnight in whispers and promises, hating to part, wishing we were at home where could be alone, where she could sleep in my arms.
 

I didn’t want to be apart from her for another minute.

But I made my way to my room, feeling her down the hall as tangibly as if I’d left a limb with her. Though I had, I supposed. She had my heart.

I tossed and turned for a long while, my mind on her until I couldn’t take it anymore — I snuck down the hall, avoiding the creaking boards, and opened her door, closing it behind me softly.

“You came,” she whispered.

“I always will,” I whispered back as I slipped in next to her.
 

She sighed and shifted until our bodies were flush, her head tucked under my chin. And I felt more at home than I ever had before.

We didn’t talk, just held each other in the moonlight. Didn’t kiss, just breathed. And when I finally drifted off to sleep, it was with her name on my lips and her body against mine.

Cam

IT WAS STILL DARK WHEN he woke, leaving me with a kiss and the brush of my cheek, and I slipped back into sleep with a smile. When I woke again, the sun was up, and I stretched like a cat, hoping he was already awake, wishing he were still in bed with me.

When I was dressed, I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, finding Tyler there, reading. I’d brought him
The Hobbit
, and he was bent over it, engrossed in the words. He didn’t see me approach, not until I was next to him, pressing a kiss on his temple.

His mom was making breakfast, eggs and bacon and hash browns, but the kitchen was otherwise empty.

“Morning, Cam,” she said. “Sleep well?”

I smiled at Tyler. “Great, thanks for asking. Are the girls at school?” I asked as I sat down next to him.

“They are,” she said, “and Carl too, but he’ll be by later to see you both off.”

Tyler frowned a little at me. “When’s your flight?”

My smile turned into a smirk. “I got on your flight coming home, thanks to your mom.”

She smiled at us over her shoulder. “I might have done some covert luggage digging for the information.”

He laughed. “Now I’m glad I brought my receipts with me for both flights.”

Mrs. Knight sighed. “I’m gonna miss you. This trip was a blur.”

I felt a little guilty. “That’s my fault.”

She waved her spatula at me. “Don’t be silly. Tyler wasn’t going to be home much whether you were here or not. At least yesterday we got to spend the day together. Will you two come back for Thanksgiving?”

He looked at me hopefully, and I smiled. “I’d be happy to. Maybe we could go to Walnut too and see my parents. It’s only an hour and a half away.”

“That’ll sure make the holidays easier,” she said with a laugh, as if she knew we’d be spending holidays together for the foreseeable future, as if it were the only natural course of action, and I hoped she was right.

We ate our breakfast and packed our bags, Tyler’s dad making it just in time to see us off, as promised. We all embraced with the promise to see each other at Thanksgiving, which made the goodbyes easier. And then we climbed into Tyler’s rental car and drove away, waving until we pulled out of the gate.

I sighed and sat back in my seat, and he reached for my hand, smiling at me, our fingers entwined for the entire ride.

On the plane, he lifted the armrest between us and tucked my legs in his lap as we read our books. He’d pause on occasion to talk to me about it, read a passage to me with my head resting on his shoulder. I did the same with
Mists of Avalon
, convincing him to read it too, undaunted by the fact that it was near nine hundred pages long.
 

New York was just as it had been when I’d left the morning before, but I felt lighter, happier than I’d imagined I could. Like he was the antidote to my crazy, somehow normalizing me, lightening the load of my burden.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, and we walked in the door, heading straight for our rooms to dump our things. He met me in my room and flopped down on my bed, and I did the same, giggling.

He propped his head on his hand and laid a hand on my hip, sliding me closer to him. I slipped my leg between his.

“I liked seeing you in my hometown,” he said, smiling.

“I liked being in your hometown. I loved your family when I met them last time they were in New York, but now I don’t know if they’ll ever get rid of me.”

He laughed. “I don’t know if you’ll ever get rid of them. Or me, for that matter.”

My heart fluttered. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

His face grew more serious, and he brushed my hair from my face, smoothing it to cup the back of my head gently. “What if you get scared again?”

“Then I’ll talk to you, and you’ll tell me you love me, and I’ll be fine.”

“No more running?”

“No more running away. Only toward.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” I searched his face, touched his cheek. “Now I’ve made you afraid.”

“No, not afraid for me. Afraid for you. I don’t want you to hurt, Cam. Especially because of me.”

“You never hurt me. I hurt myself. But I have faith. I have to, because being without you isn’t what I want. I need you, Tyler.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face to kiss my palm. I leaned into him, pulling him down to kiss me, his lips brushing against mine gently at first, then deeper, his tongue sweeping my bottom lip. I parted them, letting him in, letting go. Giving him all of me.
 

His hands were in my hair, our bodies pressed together as we came as close as we could. But I wanted to be closer. I wanted all of him.

My hands found the hem of his shirt and slipped under to the hot, soft skin of his abs. They didn’t stop, moving up his body, feeling the ridges and valleys of his chest. He broke away from the kiss long enough to strip his shirt off and toss it before his lips pressed against mine again.

I felt so small as he pulled me close, so delicate under his hands that stroked my chin and neck, my arm and hip, as careful as he was firm with me. He was tender and demanding all at once, pulling off my shirt, unhooking my bra with the snap of his fingers, and then they were gone.
 

His hands — they were so strong and somehow soft as he stroked my breast reverently, thumbing my nipple, bending to place his lips around it, circling his tongue until my eyes refused to stay open. He pinned me against him with a single hand on my back, the other around my breast, and my hips rolled, looking for his, wanting the connection my body ached for.

He moved down my body, the loss of his hot mouth on my breast instant, the cool air hitting it, tightening it just when I thought I couldn’t feel anything more exquisite. His hands deftly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them off, moving with certainty that made me feel helpless — I couldn’t move, my body surrendered — and powerful — he couldn’t stop, desiring me so much, his hands trembling with need. There was no ceremony in removing my panties, and I needed none. I only needed him.

He settled in between my legs, kissing my thigh, touching me softly, opening me, filling me, sucking — my head fell to the side, unable to keep my eyes open at the relief of him touching me like my body was his. He broke away, and my lids cracked to see him moving for the bed stand. I watched him roll the condom on, his big hands stroking the long length of him, his body in shadows, the curve of his shoulders and chest, the ridges of his abs, the V that led from his hips and down.
 

And then he lowered himself down, hovered over me, caged me in his arms, guided his crown until he was pressed against me. I moaned a word, his name, a plea, and he flexed, stealing my breath as he filled me.

Full, so full I still couldn’t breathe, though he still could fill me more, but he pulled out with a shuddering breath, his eyes nearly closed, lips parted as his nose brushed against mine. And he flexed again, harder, filling me more.

Before, I had control over the depth, but this time was different. He hit me deeper, pressing gently. It was a dream, only heartbeats and sensations, breaths and visions. His face, his body, mine, coming together, parting, slow and steady. I rocked against him, legs raising to bring him deeper still, knees high against his ribs, thighs trembling. He rolled his hips against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, pulled out to hit the sensitive spot inside, and with every motion my heart beat faster, legs squeezed tighter, breath shallow, until he whispered:

“Let go.”
 

Two words, and I came unraveled, heart stopping before surging along with my body that squeezed and held him. And it was too much. Too much for me, for him, and he was right behind me, coming with a thrust that hit the end of me, on the breath of my name. He was everywhere, surrounding me, inside of me, in my heart, in my soul. He was mine. I was his. And I knew then I’d never give myself to anyone else.

Our bodies slowed, and he dropped his head, burying it in my neck. I cradled him in my arms, fingers in his hair, and I closed my eyes and breathed, feeling his heart beating against mine until they beat together.
 

When he raised his head and looked at me, there was so much love, so much that I was overcome, my eyes filling with tears that spilled over, and down into my hair. And my eyes mirrored his, my heart and soul mirrored his — we were one, the same, together.

I couldn’t speak, and even if I could there weren’t words for the moment. So I kissed him and promised him forever, and he promised me the same. And I lay in his arms, where I’d stay.

Tyler

TYLER

CAM STOOD IN FRONT of the bar at Wasted Words with a champagne glass in her hand, tapping it with a swizzle stick to get everyone’s attention. The crowd turned to face her, my beautiful girlfriend who looked quite at home in heels and a dress, red lips smiling at Bayleigh and Martin.

“Hi, everyone. I wanted to thank you all for coming tonight.”

A voice came from the back, saying, “Where you at, short stuff?”

Everyone laughed, and Greg appeared next to her with a chair, helping her up to stand on it.
 

“Better?” she asked, and everyone gave their assent. “Good. So thanks for being here to celebrate Bayleigh and Martin’s engagement.”

The crowd clapped and whistled, and Bayleigh blushed, leaning into Martin.

“Now, some of you may or may not know that I was actually one-hundred-percent anti-Martin at first.”

A few joking boos came from the back, but she laughed and held up a hand, nodding. “I know, hear me out. I sort of have a reputation for setting people up, and I thought I had the two of them figured out, and had big plans for them that didn’t include each other. But I couldn’t see what was right in front of me — that these two were perfect for each other. No matter what I did to keep them apart, they just kept finding each other. The force that binds the two of them is stronger than any one person could break, and I know. I tried. But if ever there was a time I was glad to be wrong, it was then.”

Everyone cheered
Hear, hear
, and Martin raised his glass, wrapping an arm around Bayleigh’s shoulders.

Cam lifted her glass in the air. “To Bayleigh and Martin: may you always defy the rules and truths of the universe, if it means you’ll always be together. Congratulations, my friends.”

The crowd uttered their own cheers, glasses raised, and took a drink.

I stepped over to Cam to help her off the chair, and she beamed up at me. “I need a drink that’s not so bubbly.”

I chuckled. “Whiskey?”

“Yes, please.”

We stepped over to the bar where the new bartender, Sascha, smiled at us.
 

“Halloo, Cam,” he said in his thick German accent, long face bent in a smirk of cartoonish proportions. “Something to drink?”

“Makers on the rocks, thanks.”

“No problem,” he answered as he scooped ice into the glass. “So has Miss Matchmaker found a date for me yet?”

She chuckled. “Not yet, Sascha.”

“Well, you know I am still looking for my green card,” he joked, crooked smile still on his face.

“Oh, I know,” she said with a laugh. “I’m surprised you haven’t found one for yourself. You seem to go home with a new lady every night.”

He laid a hand on his chest as he poured, smiling in a way that was self-deprecating and cocky all at once. “Well, you know, the ladies love the accent.”

She laughed. “It’s true, they do. You’re everyone’s new favorite bartender. Now, if I could only figure out how to get you to come to work in lederhosen, we’d be all set.”

“Ah, but I left mine in Frankfurt,” he said with a smile and a shrug as he handed her drink over.

“Thanks, Sascha. Tell your mom to mail it. I’ll pay for postage.”

He leaned on the bar. “Deal. Anything for you, Tyler?”

I held up my drink. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” A girl walked up to the other end of the bar and he stood up straighter, his smile pulling up higher as he kicked on the charm.

Cam shook her head. “That guy is a freaking money maker. Look at him talk to that girl. He cleans up.”

I laughed. “The man’s got skills. He’ll have his green card in no time at that rate.”

She laughed and slipped her arm around my waist, looking over at Bayleigh and Martin with a sigh. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Me too.”

“I still feel bad about how all that went down.”