“I tried to get him to leave, but he said he had a quick question for you and it couldn’t wait. Come on.” Rita waves her hand at me and with a frustrated sigh I fall into step behind her, letting her lead me to the front door.

  It’s partially cracked open and I peek around it hesitantly to find Ace standing on our welcome mat, his gaze fixed on his phone, his fingers flying over the screen.

  “Hey,” I say weakly, praying he doesn’t look too closely at my face.

  “Oh hey, Blair.” He lifts his head, his gaze zeroing in on me. He doesn’t even bat an eyelash at my less than stellar appearance. “Uh, I have a message for you.”

  “A message?” I frown.

  “Yeah.” He takes a step closer, his voice shifting lower. “Um, Cam asked me to deliver it. To you.”

  Say what? “Cam wants you to give me a message?”

  What in the world is going on?

  “Yeah.” Ace nods, but doesn’t say anything else. His phone dings and he checks it quickly, typing out a one-word response, that familiar “whoosh” sounding, indicating he sent it.

  “Well, what’s the message?”

  “Um, he’s out in your parking lot right now and he wants you to go out to his car and talk to him.” Ace jerks his thumb over his shoulder to indicate that Cam is indeed waiting for me out there.

  “Did you ride over with him?”

  “I did. And he told me I had to walk back to my apartment.” Ace grins, as if he’s enjoying every minute of this. “I think you got the number one QB wrapped around your finger, Maguire.”

  I step out of the apartment, pulling the front door shut behind me. “Doubtful. And why would he ask you to come to the door instead of him?”

  “He didn’t want your roomies to know.” He says this so logically, as if that makes all the sense in the world.

  “But you’re okay with showing your face to my roommates.”

  “Not like they actually know me. Not yet.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark blue athletic shorts. “And who are they going to tell?”

  True. This is all so silly. Like we’re playing some sort of spy game.

  But it’s also thrilling, not gonna lie. Cam is waiting out in the parking lot for me.

  He wanted to see me.

  He came here by choice.

  “Camden Fields shows up on your doorstep? That’s going to cause a scene,” Ace continues, shaking his head. “Can’t wait to get to that status someday.”

  I hold up a finger, practically thrusting it in his face. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

  “Want me to tell Cam that you’re going to be a few?”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  He nods. “For sure. You treat me way nicer than anyone else on the team, and that includes your brother.”

  I roll my eyes, hating that my brother probably treats him terribly.

  “Then please tell him. I’ll be out in…ten minutes.”

  Ace beams. “Gotcha. I’ll let him know.”

  He’s gone before I can say another word, running down the stairs that lead to the ground floor so quickly, he makes everything rattle, including my head.

  But I have no time to worry about any of that. Instead, I dash inside the apartment, coming to a complete stop when I see Rita watching me, her arms crossed in front of her chest. There’s a suspicious look on her face and my brain scrambles to come up with something to tell her, because I know she’s gonna ask.

  “Where are you going?”

  See?

  “Out with Ace,” I say weakly, hating that I’m lying.

  “Really?” Her brows shoot up.

  “We’re just friends.” I shrug. “He’s younger than me.”

  “So? He’s hot as fuck.”

  That…isn’t a lie. Not that I care.

  I have my heart set on someone else.

  “Friends,” I reiterate. “He wants my advice.”

  “About?”

  What’s up with the third degree?

  “Football life. You know, my family was and is heavily involved in the NFL,” I remind her.

  That’s all it takes for Rita’s gaze to glaze over. “Right. Fun times. I like the money and fame part, but otherwise, no thanks. Football is boring.”

  Not even offering a response, I leave her standing in the living room and go to my bedroom, my hands already in my wet hair, twisting it into a top knot. Once that’s completed, I tear off the undereye gel strips, tossing them in the trash before I stop in front of the full-length mirror that sits in the corner of my room.

  A realization hits—Knox didn’t give me this T-shirt. It belonged to my ex-boyfriend. I still look like I’m going to bed, which was the original plan.

  Screw it. I’m going with this outfit. Not like he’s going to take me out. Maybe what I’m wearing will give him easy access to the…parts he’d like to touch. Though I probably shouldn’t get hot and heavy in the Challenger.

  I am not about to become just another number in Cam’s long list of conquests. If anything happens between us, I plan on sticking around.

  Once I shove my feet into the Ugg slippers I had to beg my mom to buy me last Christmas, I’m walking out of the apartment, heading straight for the Challenger, which is parked all the way on the opposite of the lot, the engine rumbling as he waits for me.

  Giddiness has me running those last few steps, my T-shirt—and my boobs—bouncing somewhat out of control. I go to the driver’s side, staring at Cam’s perfect profile for a too brief moment before I start knocking on the glass.

  He appears to jump out of his skin for a second before he realizes it’s just me and sags against the seat. He opens the window, so I can see his handsome face and hear his deliciously deep voice.

  “You scared the shit out of me,” he accuses.

  I’m grinning. “You’re the one who’s acting like you’re a part of some covert operation, sending your spy to the door to fetch me.”

  He grins, seemingly pleased with himself. “I couldn’t just knock on the door and ask for you. I’d cause a scene.”

  “Do you really think you’re that important?”

  He tils his head to the side, contemplating me. “Come on, B. You know how it is.”

  Dang it, I do.

  “Get in the car.” He hits a button and I can hear the locks deactivate. “Hurry.”

  “So bossy,” I murmur as I walk around the back of the car before reaching for the door handle, sliding into the seat and shutting the door behind me. “What’s going on?”

  He stares, his gaze raking over me from my wet head to my Ugg-slippered feet. My skin tingles everywhere his eyes touch and I’m practically squirming in my seat when he finally meets my gaze once more.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?”

  I glance down at myself for a quick moment before I return my gaze to his. “I was getting ready for bed.”

  “It’s nine o’clock.”

  “Someone kept me up late last night. I’m tired.”

  He smiles.

  So do I. We’re looking at each other as if we share a secret.

  Which we do.

  “Where did you get this?” He reaches out, fingering the sleeve of my old T-shirt, his fingers coming perilously close to my untethered boobs. “Your old high school?”

  I nod, silent. Scared to tell him who the shirt belonged to. It says varsity football team, so he’s going to make assumptions.

  “Knox’s?”

  I shake my head, my gaze never straying from his. Trying to telepath who this shirt belonged to without having to say it out loud.

  “Then who?” Something must dawn on him because he starts nodding. “Ahh. I can guess.”

  My smile is sheepish. “It belonged to my ex-boyfriend. I stole it from him. He played football.”

  “With Knox?” He sounds…pissed off?

  “Yeah, but he was in my grade.”

  “Huh.” Cam reaches for the gearshift, his foot tapping the gas, making the engine rev. He slides the car into reverse, and in seconds, we’re peeling out of the parking space, roaring through the lot and out onto the street.

  I’m literally resting my hand against my chest, trying to breathe through the palpitations his reckless driving is giving me. “What’s your problem?”

  He speeds through a yellow light, ignoring the car honking at him as we pass it by. “Nothing.”

  His jaw is clenched, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. He’s intense. A little scary.

  A lot sexy.

  He hits a button, both windows sliding down and the wind whips through his hair. He taps another button and music fills the car. Something loud and vaguely obnoxious at first, though after a while, I realize I’m enjoying it.

  Enjoying the moment with the wind in our hair and the music playing so loudly that I can’t think about anything else. All I can do is focus on Cam. The way his biceps bulge against the sleeves of his T-shirt. It stretches across his broad chest and I’m filled with the urge to touch him. After having free rein to let my hands roam all over him last night, now it’s all I want to do.

  My gaze drops and I take in his strong thighs. How they’re covered lightly with hair. How I wish I had the right to reach out and settle my hand on his leg and claim him. Like he’s mine.

  As if he belongs to me.

  We end up at a park on the opposite side of town, Cam pulling into a spot that’s right next to a massive lake, his car lights shining upon the water before he turns them off, the entire area shrouded in darkness. I can hear bugs chirping and frogs croaking, despite the time of year, and I glance over at Cam to find he’s already watching me, his narrowed gaze making me shrink back in my chair a little bit.

  “What’s wrong?” I know I already asked what his problem is, but he’s starting to…scare me.

  But only a little bit.

  He blows out a harsh breath, running his fingers through his hair as he stares out the driver’s side window. I drink in his profile, my gaze skimming over his features. The sharp angle of his nose. The high curve of his cheeks. The strong jut of his chin. He has a finely-made face and I’m tempted to crawl into his lap and run my mouth all over it. Map his skin with my lips. Taste him everywhere I can.

  I do none of that. Instead, I grip my hands together in my lap and wait for him to say something.

  Anything.

  “I hate thinking about you with someone else,” he finally says, his head still averted so I can’t look into his eyes.

  My mouth drops open, only for me to immediately snap it shut. “Are you serious?”

  He looks at me, his expression pure misery. “Yeah. You’re still wearing his shirt.”

  “It was in high school,” I reiterate. “He doesn’t matter to me.”

  Once upon a time, Travis did, but not anymore. I haven’t even really thought about him in years. For God’s sake, I even thought I got the T-shirt from Knox.

  Cam turns his head away from me, yet again, the breeze filtering through his hair, making it flop over his forehead, and without thought, I do exactly what I’ve been wanting to do since I got into this car.

  Reaching out, I touch his hair, sliding my fingers through the soft strands that are at the back of his neck. He needs a haircut. His hair isn’t usually this unruly, but God, it’s so soft. I don’t want to quit touching him.

  He closes his eyes yet doesn’t say a word, and I wonder if he’s enjoying it.

  “Blair.” My name sounds like a plea. As if he’s in complete agony. “What are you doing?”

  “What’s it look like?” I scoot a little closer, thrusting my fingers into the hair at the base of his skull.

  “You should probably stop.”

  I start to pull my hand away from his hair, but his next words make me pause.

  “No. Don’t stop.”

  I continue rubbing the conflicted man’s head, enjoying every second of it. He leans into my touch, reminding me of our family dog who is the neediest being I’ve ever known. Remington is a chocolate lab. He’s a giant goofball and so affectionate, he could knock you down in his enthusiasm over being petted.

  Cam is giving me serious chocolate lab vibes right now. Though he’s not sweet and goofy like Remy is, he is acting like he’s starved for affection. I’m guessing he probably is.

  “Come here,” he finally says, still sounding as if he’s in agony, but I don’t hesitate.

  I do exactly as I envisioned, climbing into his lap, curling my arms around his neck, my mouth landing on his. Tonight’s kissing isn’t tentative or exploratory. No, it slides straight into needy territory. My hands are buried in his hair. His hands are on my bare waist. Sliding up my back, pausing when he tears his mouth from mine.

  “You’re not wearing a bra,” he whispers.

  I open my eyes and smile at him. “I’m not wearing much at all.”

  “Fuck.” Those hands come around to my front, fingers brushing the underside of my breasts, and I whimper, thrusting my chest out. “I hate this T-shirt.”

  “Knox played there.”

  “I don’t care. I hate it.” He tugs on the tattered hem, like he wants to rip it from my body.

  “Cam.”

  “Blair.” He cups the back of my head, holding me in place so he can stare into my eyes. “I told myself to stay away from you.”

  Pain filters through my blood. My brain. Why would he tell me that now? When I’m in his arms and I can feel his erection poking me?

  “But I couldn’t. I can’t.” His grip tightens, fingers sliding down to curve around my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  That admission took a lot out of him, I can tell. By the raspy sound of his voice and the terrified expression on his handsome face. Big man on campus, Camden Fields, doesn’t express emotions like this.

  He’s not outwardly needy. He doesn’t want for much.

  Yet he wants…

  Me.

  Finally.

  TWENTY

  CAM

  I probably shouldn’t have said any of that to Blair, but fuck it. She deserves the truth. And she looks so pleased by my confession too. The way her eyes lit up at my words, her lush lips curving into a faint smile. She touches my face, her fingers sliding down my cheek, and fuck, I can’t take it when she puts her hands on me. It feels too good.

  My entire life, I’ve told myself I don’t need anyone. Just football and myself. I care about my friends. I care about my parents, even though they never showed they cared much about me when I was growing up.

  I vowed a long time ago not to be a selfish bastard like my dad, but when you also tell yourself you don’t care about anyone else, you tend to be just that…a selfish bastard. A couple of years ago, I gave into the feelings and told myself it was easier not to care than to care too much. Easier to be an arrogant prick versus an overemotional dickwad.

  Staring at Blair’s beautiful face, losing myself in her green eyes, I feel like…

  An overemotional dickwad.

  And that’s some scary shit.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you either,” she admits, her voice low, her gaze on me, her fingers still streaking down my cheek, though now they’re making their way to my mouth. “We didn’t kiss near enough for my liking.”

  She presses her index finger into the corner of my mouth, like she’s trying to make a point.

  “Not enough?” I almost take it like an insult.

  Blair slowly shakes her head, that topknot on her head bobbing with the movement. Her hair is damp, I’m assuming from a shower, and her skin is fragrant. Smooth. I release the back of her neck and rest my hands on her exposed waist, pressing my fingers into her skin, making her breath hitch.

  “Not nearly enough, Cam,” she whispers.

  I like hearing her say my name. I like the way she seems to savor it. Like it’s her favorite word.

  I also really do hate that shirt she’s wearing. Knowing that her ex-boyfriend from high school gave it to her fucks with my head. Who was that guy to her? Did she love him? Did he break her heart and make her cry? I don’t respond well to tears. I’ve seen enough of them come from my mom over the years, always when she’s raging over something my father did to her.

  The idea of Blair crying? Or worse, the idea of me making Blair cry?

  My heart aches just thinking of it.

  “Can I confess something to you?”

  I meet her gaze, noting how big her eyes look. Almost as if she’s scared.

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  “I thought about doing something…very specific to you earlier,” she admits.

  My dick twitches in excitement. My brain is automatically filled with visions of Blair on her knees and my cock filling her mouth. Though I am pretty positive that’s not what she’s referring to.

  “What did you want to do?”

  “I still want to do it.” She sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip, and I almost groan out loud at the sight. “Can I show you?”

  “Uh, sure.” She can fucking show me whatever she wants. I’m game for all of it.

  She sits up straighter, readjusting herself on my lap, her ass brushing against my dick, and I wince, wishing I could readjust myself. At least I’m in shorts and not jeans. It wouldn’t take much to free the beast, so to speak.

  Blair brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face and blows out a nervous breath while I sit there and wait in anticipation over what she might do.

  Grab my junk?

  Tear my clothes off?

  Grind on my dick?

  I am ready, willing and able.

  But then she does the most surprising thing.

  Leaning in, she brushes her lips against my cheek. It’s soft. Sweet. Far too brief. Then she does it again.

  And again.

  She kisses me all over my face. Tender presses of her lips all over my cheeks, my chin, my forehead. Even my nose. She avoids my lips the entire time, and I’m filled with the need to actually kiss her. Thrust my tongue into her mouth and taste her.

  But I restrain myself, my hands clutched into fists and resting on my thighs. I can’t touch her. If I do, I won’t be able to control myself, and I also can’t lie.