Jauregui Fire @96harmony96 - Tumblr Blog

Chapter 15

I stopped by Cary’s room before I left for work Thursday morning. I cracked the door open and peeked in. When I saw he was sleeping, I started to back out.

“Hey,” he murmured, blinking at me.

“Hey.” I entered. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m glad to be home.” He rubbed at the corners of his eyes. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah . . . I just wanted to check on you before I head to work. I’ll be home around eight. I’ll grab dinner on the way back, so expect a text around seven to see what you’re hungry—” I interrupted myself with a yawn.

“What kind of vitamins does Jauregui take?”

“Huh?”

“I’m never not horny, and even I can’t pile-drive all night like that. I kept thinking, ‘She’s got to be done now.’ Then she’d start up again.”

I flushed and shifted on my feet.

He howled with laughter. “It’s dark in here, but I know you’re blushing.”

“You should’ve put your headphones on,” I mumbled.

“Don’t stress about it. It was good to find out my equipment still works. I hadn’t had a chubby since before the attack.”

“Eww . . . Gross, Cary.” I started backing out of the room. “My dad comes in tonight. Technically tomorrow. His flight lands at five.”

“You picking him up?”

“Of course.”

His smile faded. “You’re going to kill yourself at this rate. You haven’t gotten any sleep all week.”

“I’ll catch up. See ya.”

“Hey,” he called after me. “Does last night mean you and Jauregui are okay again?”

I leaned into the doorjamb with a sigh. “Something’s wrong, and she won’t talk to me about it. I wrote her a letter basically puking out all my insecurities and neuroses.”

“Never put stuff like that in writing, baby girl.”

“Yeah, well . . . all it got me was fucked half to death with no better idea of what the problem is. She said it has to be this way. I don’t even know what that means.”

He nodded.

“You act like you get it,” I said.

“I think I get the sex.”

That sent a chill down my spine. “Get-it-out-of-your-system sex?”

“It’s possible,” he agreed softly.

I closed my eyes and let the confirmation slide through me. Then I straightened. “I gotta run. Catch you later.”

* * *

The thing about nightmares was that you couldn’t prepare for them. They sneaked up on you when you were most vulnerable, wrecking havoc and mayhem when you were totally defenseless.

And they didn’t always happen while you were sleeping.

I sat in an agonized daze as Mark and Mr. Waters went over the fine points of the Kingsman Vodka ads, achingly aware of Lauren sitting at the head of the table in a black suit with white shirt and tie.

She was pointedly ignoring me, had been from the moment I walked into the Cross Industries conference room aside from a cursory handshake when Mr. Waters introduced us. That brief touch of her skin against mine had sent a charge of awareness through me, my body immediately recognizing her as the one that had pleasured it all night. Lauren hadn’t seemed to register the contact at all, her gaze trained above my head as she’d said, “Miss Cabello.”

The contrast to the last time we’d been in the room was profound. Then, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off me. Her focus had been searing and blatant, and when we’d left the room she’d told me that she wanted to fuck me and would dispense with anything that got in the way of her doing so.

This time, she stood abruptly when the meeting was concluded, shook the hands of Mark and Mr. Waters, and strode out the door with only a short, inscrutable glance at me. Her two directors scurried after her, both attractive brunettes.

Mark shot me a questioning look across the table. I shook my head.

I made it back to my desk. I worked industriously for the rest of the day. During my lunch break, I stayed in and looked up things to do with my dad. I decided on three possibilities—the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and a Broadway play, with the trip to Ellis Island reserved for if he really had a desire to go. Otherwise, I figured we could skip the ferry and just check her out from the shore. His time in the city was short, and I didn’t want to overload it with a bunch of running around.

On my last break of the day, I called Lauren’s office.

“Hi, Scott,” I greeted her secretary. “Is it possible for me to talk to your boss real quick?”

“Hold on a minute and I’ll see.”

I half-expected to have my call rejected, but a couple of minutes later I was put through.

“Yes, Camila?”

I took the length of a heartbeat to savor the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry to bother you. This is probably a stupid question, considering, but . . . are you coming to dinner tomorrow to meet my father?”

“I’ll be there,” she said gruffly.

“Are you bringing Ireland?” I was surprised there wasn’t a tremor in my voice, considering the overwhelming relief I felt.

There was a pause. Then, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“I have a late meeting tonight, so I’ll have to meet you at Dr. Petersen’s. Angus will drive you over. I’ll grab a cab.”

“All right.” I sagged into my seat, feeling a spark of hope. Continuing therapy and meeting my dad could only be seen as positive signs. Lauren and I were struggling. But she hadn’t given up yet. “I’ll see you then.”

* * *

Angus dropped me off at Dr. Petersen’s office at a quarter to six. I went inside and Dr. Petersen waved at me through his open office door, rising from his seat behind his desk to shake my hand.

“How are you, Camila?”

“I’ve been better.”

His gaze swept over my face. “You look tired.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” I said dryly.

He looked over my shoulder. “Where’s Lauren?”

“She had a late meeting, so she’s coming separately.”

“All right.” He gestured at the sofa. “This is a nice opportunity for us to talk alone. Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss before she arrives?”

I settled on the seat and spilled my guts, telling Dr. Petersen about the amazing trip to the Outer Banks and then the bizarre, inexplicable week we’d had since. “I just don’t get it. I feel like she’s in trouble, but I can’t get her to open up at all. She’s completely cut me off emotionally. Honestly, I’m beginning to get whiplash. I’m also worried that her change in behavior is because of Corinne. Every time we’ve hit one of these walls, it’s because of her.”

I looked at my fingers, which were twisted around each other. They reminded me of my mother’s habit of twisting handkerchiefs, and I forced my hands to relax. “It almost seems like she’s got some kind of hold on her and she can’t break free of it, no matter how she feels about me.”

Dr. Petersen looked up from his typing, studying me. “Did she tell you that she wasn’t going to make her appointment on Tuesday?”

“No.” The news hit me hard. “She didn’t say anything.”

“She didn’t tell me, either. I wouldn’t say that’s typical behavior for her, would you?”

I shook my head.

Dr. Petersen crossed his hands in his lap. “At times, one or both of you will backtrack a bit. That’s to be expected considering the nature of your relationship—you’re not just working on you as a couple, but also as individuals so you can be a couple.”

“I can’t deal with this, though.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t do this yo-yo thing. It’s driving me insane. The letter I sent her . . . It was awful. All true, but awful. We’ve had some really beautiful moments together. She’s said some—”

I had to stop a minute, and when I continued, my voice was hoarse. “She’s said some w-wonderful things to me. I don’t want to lose those memories in a bunch of ugly ones. I keep debating whether I should quit while I’m ahead, but I’m hanging in here because I promised her—and myself—that I wouldn’t run anymore. That I was going to dig my feet in and fight for this.”

“That’s something you’re working on?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. And it’s not easy. Because some of the things she does . . . I react in ways I’ve learned to avoid. For my own sanity! At some point you have to say you gave it your best shot and it didn’t work out. Right?”

Dr. Petersen’s head tilted to the side. “And if you don’t, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes. Worst-case scenario.”

“Well . . .” I splayed my fingers on my thighs. “She keeps drifting away from me, which makes me cling harder and lose all sense of self-worth. And we end up with her going back to life as she knew it and me going back to therapy trying to get my head on straight again.”

He continued to look at me, and something about his patient watchfulness prodded me to keep talking.

“I’m afraid that she won’t cut me loose when it’s time and that I won’t know better. That I’ll keep hanging on to the sinking ship and go down with it. I just wish I could trust that she’d end it, if it comes to that.”

“Do you think that needs to happen?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I pulled my gaze away from the clock on the wall. “But considering it’s nearly seven and she stood us both up tonight, it seems likely.”

* * *

It was crazy to me that I wasn’t surprised to find the Bentley waiting outside my apartment at quarter to five in the morning. The driver who climbed out from behind the wheel when I stepped outside wasn’t familiar to me. He was much younger than Angus; early thirties was my guess. He looked Latino, with rich caramel-hued skin, and dark hair and eyes.

“Thanks,” I told him, when he rounded the front of the vehicle, “but I’ll just grab a cab.”

Hearing that, the night doorman to my building stepped out to the street to flag one down for me.

“Miss. Jauregui said I’m to take you to La Guardia,” the driver said.

“You can tell Miss. Jauregui that I won’t be requiring her transportation services now or in the future.” I moved toward the cab the doorman had hailed, but stopped and turned around. “And tell her to go fuck herself, too.”

I slid into the cab and settled back as it pulled away.

* * *

I’ll admit to some bias when I say my father stands out in a crowd, but that didn’t make it less true.

As he exited the secure security area, Victor Reyes commanded attention. He was six feet tall, fit and well built, and had the commanding presence of a man who wore a badge. His gaze raked the immediate area around him, always a cop even when he wasn’t on duty. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and wore blue jeans with a black button-down shirt. His hair was dark and wavy, his eyes stormy and gray like mine. He was seriously hot in a brooding, dangerous, bad boy sort of way, and I tried to picture him alongside my mother’s fragile, haughty beauty. I’d never seen them together, not even in pictures, and I really wanted to. If only just once.

“Daddy!” I yelled, waving.

His face lit up when he saw me, and a wide smile curved his mouth.

“There’s my girl.” He picked me up in a hug that had my feet dangling above the floor. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

I started crying. I couldn’t help it. Being with him again was the last emotional straw.

“Hey.” He rocked me. “What’s with the tears?”

I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, so grateful to have him with me, knowing all the other troubles in my life would fade into the background while he was around.

“I missed you like crazy, too,” I said, sniffling.

We took a cab back to my place. On the ride over, my dad asked me the same sort of investigative questions about Cary’s attack as the detectives had asked Cary in the hospital. I tried to keep him distracted with that discussion when we pulled up outside my building, but it didn’t do any good.

My dad’s eagle eyes took in the modern glass overhang attached to the brick façade of the building. He stared at the doorman, Paul, who touched the brim of his hat and opened the door for us. He studied the front desk and concierge, and rocked back on his heels as we waited for the elevator.

He didn’t say anything and kept his poker face on, but I knew he was thinking about how much my digs must cost in a city like New York. When I showed him into my apartment, his sweeping gaze took in the size of the place. The massive windows had a stunning view of the city, and the flat-screen television mounted on the wall was just one of the many top-of-the-line electronics on display.

He knew I couldn’t afford the place on my own. He knew my mother’s husband was providing for me in ways he would never be able to. And I wondered if he thought about my mother, and how what she needed was also beyond his means.

“The security here is really tight,” I told him by way of explanation. “It’s impossible to get past the front desk if you’re not on the list and a resident can’t be reached to vouch for you.”

My dad exhaled in a rush. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. I don’t think Mom could sleep at night otherwise.”

That made some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“Let me show you to your room.” I led him down the hallway to the guest room suite. It had its own bathroom and mini-bar with fridge. I saw him noting those things before he dropped his duffel on the king-size bed. “Are you tired?”

He looked at me. “I know you are. And you have to work today, don’t you? Why don’t we nap for a bit before you have to get up?”

I stifled a yawn and nodded, knowing I could use the couple of hours of shut-eye. “Sounds good.”

“Wake me when you’re up,” he said, rolling his shoulders back. “I’ll make the coffee while you’re getting ready.”

“Awesome.” My voice came husky with suppressed tears. Lauren almost always had coffee waiting for me on days when she’d spent the night, because she got up before me. I missed that little ritual of ours.

Somehow, I’d have to learn to live without it.

Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I kissed my dad’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, Daddy.”

I closed my eyes and clung tightly when he hugged me.

* * *

I stepped out of the small market with my bags of grocery ingredients for dinner and frowned at finding Angus idling at the curb. I’d refused a ride in the morning and again when I’d left the Crossfire, and he was still following and shadowing. It was ridiculous. I couldn’t help but wonder if Lauren didn’t want me as a girlfriend anymore, but her neurotic lust for my body meant that she didn’t want anyone else to have me—namely Brett.

As I walked home, I entertained thoughts of having Brett over for dinner instead, imagining Angus having to make that call to Lauren when Brett came strolling up to my place. It was just a quick vengeful fantasy, since I wouldn’t lead Brett on that way and he was in Florida anyway, but it did the trick. My step lightened and when I entered my apartment, I was in my first really good mood in days.

I dumped all the dinner stuff off in the kitchen, then went to find my dad. He was hanging out in Cary’s room playing a video game. Cary worked a nunchuk one-handed, since his other hand was in a cast.

“Woo!” my dad shouted. “Spanked.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Cary shot back, “taking advantage of an invalid.”

“I’m crying a river here.”

Cary looked at me in the doorway and winked. I loved him so much in that moment I couldn’t stop myself from crossing over to him and pressing a kiss to his bruised forehead.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Thank me with dinner. I’m starving.”

I straightened. “I got the goods to make enchiladas.”

My dad looked at me, smiling, knowing I’d need his help. “Yeah?”

“When you’re ready,” I told him. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, my dad and I were in the kitchen rolling cheese and store-bought rotisserie chicken—my little cheat to save time—into lard-soaked white corn tortillas. In the living room, the CD changer slipped in the next disk and Van Morrison’s soulful voice piped through the surround sound speakers.

“Oh yeah,” my dad said, reaching for my hand and tugging me away from the counter. “Hum-de-rum, hum-de-rum, moondance,” he sang in his deep baritone, twirling me.

I laughed, delighted.

Using the back of his hand against my spine to keep his greasy fingers off me, he swept me into a dance around the island, both of us singing the song and laughing. We were making our second revolution when I noticed the two people standing at the breakfast bar.

My smile fled and I stumbled, forcing my dad to catch me.

“You got two left feet?” he teased, his eyes only on me.

“Camila’s a wonderful dancer,” Lauren interjected, her face arrested in that implacable mask I detested.

My dad turned, his smile fading, too.

Lauren rounded the bar and entered the kitchen. She’d dressed for the occasion in jeans and a Yankees T-shirt. It was a suitably casual choice and a conversation starter, since my dad was a die-hard Padres fan.

“I hadn’t realized she was such a good singer, as well. Lauren Jauregui,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

“Victor Cabello.” My dad waved his shiny fingers. “I’m a bit messy.”

“I don’t mind.”

Shrugging, my dad took her hand and sized her up.

I tossed the dish towel to them and made my way over to Ireland, who was positively glowing. Her blue eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” I said, hugging her carefully. “You look gorgeous!”

“So do you!”

It was a fib, but I appreciated it anyway. I hadn’t done anything to my face or hair after my shower, because I knew my dad wouldn’t care and I hadn’t expected Lauren to show up. After all, the last time I’d heard from her had been when she’d said she would meet me at Dr. Petersen’s office.

She looked over at the counter where I’d dumped everything. “Can I help?”

“Sure. Just don’t count calories in your head—it’ll explode.” I introduced her to my dad, who was much warmer to her than he was to Lauren, and then I led her to the sink, where she washed up.

In short order, I had her helping to roll the last few enchiladas, while my dad put the already chilled Dos Equis Lauren had brought into the fridge. I didn’t even bother to wonder how Lauren knew I was serving Mexican food for dinner. I only wondered why she’d invest the time to find out when it was very clear she other things to do—like ditch her appointments.

My dad went to his room to wash up. Lauren came up behind me and put her hands on my waist, her lips brushing over my temple. “Camila.”

I tensed against the nearly irresistible urge to lean into her. “Don’t,” I whispered. “I’d rather we didn’t pretend.”

Her breath left her in a rush that ruffled my hair. Her fingers tightened on my hips, kneading for a moment. Then I felt her phone vibrate and she released me, backing away to look at the screen.

“Excuse me,” she said gruffly, leaving the kitchen before answering.

Ireland sidled over and whispered, “Thank you. I know you made her bring me along.”

I managed a smile for her. “Nobody can make Lauren do anything she doesn’t want to.”

“You could.” She tossed her head, throwing her sleek waist-length black hair over her shoulder. “You didn’t see her watching you dance with your dad. Her eyes got all shiny. I thought she was going to cry. And on the way up here, in the elevator, she tried to play it off, but I could totally tell she was nervous.”

I stared down at the can of enchilada sauce in my hands, feeling my heart break a little more.

“You’re mad at her, aren’t you?” Ireland asked.

I cleared my throat. “Some people are just better off as friends.”

“But you said you love her.”

“That’s not always enough.” I turned around to reach the can opener and found Lauren standing at the other end of the island, staring at me. I froze.

A muscle in her jaw twitched before she unclenched it. “Would you like a beer?” she asked gruffly.

I nodded. I could’ve used a shot, too. Maybe a few.

“Want a glass?”

“No.”

She looked at Ireland. “You thirsty? There’s soda, water, milk.”

“How about one of those beers?” she shot back, flashing a winsome smile.

“Try again,” she said wryly.

I watched Ireland, noting how she sparkled when Lauren focused on her. I couldn’t believe she didn’t see how she loved her. Maybe right now it was based on superficial things, but it was there and it would grow with a little encouragement. I hoped she’d work on that.

When Lauren handed me the chilled beer, her fingers brushed mine. She held on for a minute, looking into my eyes. I knew she was thinking about the other night.

It seemed like a dream now, as if her visit never really happened. I could almost believe that I’d made it up in a desperate delusion, so hungry for her touch and her love that I couldn’t go another minute without giving my mind relief from the madness of wanting and craving. If it weren’t for the lingering soreness deep inside me, I wouldn’t know what was real and what was nothing but false hope.

I pulled the beer out of her grasp and turned away. I didn’t want to say we were done and over, but it was certain now that we needed a break from each other. Lauren needed to figure out what she was doing, what she was looking for, and whether I had any meaningful place in her life. Because this roller-coaster ride we were on was going to break me, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked.

I answered without looking at her, because doing so was too painful. “Can you see if we can get Cary out here? He’s got a wheelchair.”

“All right.”

She left the room, and I could suddenly breathe deeply again.

Ireland hurried over. “What happened to Cary?”

“I’ll tell you about it while we set the table.”

* * *

I was surprised I could eat. I think I was too fascinated by the silent showdown between my dad and Lauren to notice that I was stuffing food into my mouth. At one end of the table, Cary was charming Ireland into peals of laughter that kept making me smile. At the other end, my dad sat at the head of the table, with Lauren on his left and me on his right.

They were talking. The conversation had opened with baseball, as I’d expected, then migrated into golf. On the surface, both seemed relaxed, but the air around them was highly charged. I noticed that Lauren wasn’t wearing her expensive watch. She’d planned carefully to appear as “normal” as possible.

But nothing Lauren did on the outside could change who she was on the inside. It was impossible to hide what she was—a dominant person, a captain of industry, a woman of privilege. It was in every gesture she made, every word she spoke, every look she gave.

So she and my father were in the position of struggling to find who would be the alpha, and I suspected I hung in the balance. As if anyone were in control of my life but me.

Still, I understood that my father had only really been allowed to be a dad in the last four years, and he wasn’t ready to give it up. Lauren, however, was jockeying for a position I was no longer prepared to give her.

But she was wearing the ring I’d given her. I tried not to read anything into it, but I wanted to hope. I wanted to believe.

We’d all finished the main course and I was pushing to my feet to clear the table for dessert when the intercom buzzed. I answered.

“Camila? NYPD detectives Graves and Michna are here,” the gal at the front desk said.

I glanced at Cary, wondering if the detectives had found out who’d attacked him. I gave the go-ahead for them to come up and hurried back to the dining table.

Cary looked at me with raised brows, curious.

“It’s the detectives,” I explained. “Maybe they have news.”

My dad’s focus immediately shifted. Honed. “I’ll let them in.”

Ireland helped me clear up. We’d just dumped the cups into the sink when the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands with a dish towel and went out to the living room.

The two detectives who entered weren’t the ones I expected, because they weren’t the ones who’d questioned Cary at the hospital on Monday.

Lauren appeared out of the hallway, shoving her phone into her pocket.

I wondered who’d been calling her all night.

“Camila Cabello,” the female detective said, stepping deeper into my apartment. She was a thin woman with a severe face and sharply intelligent blue eyes, which were her best feature. Her hair was brown and curly, her face clean of makeup. She wore slacks over dark flats, a poplin shirt, and a lightweight jacket that didn’t hide the badge and gun clipped to her belt. “I’m Detective Shelley Graves of the NYPD. This is my partner Detective Richard Michna. We’re sorry to disturb you on a Friday night.”

Michna was older, taller, and portly. His hair was graying at the temples and receding at the top, but he had a strong face and dark eyes that raked the room while Graves focused on me.

“Hello,” I greeted them.

My father shut the door, and something about the way he moved or carried himself caught Michna’s attention. “You on the job?”

“In California,” my dad confirmed. “I’m visiting Camila, my daughter. What’s this about?”

“We’d just like to ask you a few questions, Miss Cabello,” Graves said. She looked at Lauren. “And you, too, Miss. Jauregui.”

“Does this have something to do with the attack on Cary?” I asked.

She glanced at him. “Why don’t we sit down.”

We all moved into the living room, but only Ireland and I ended up taking a seat. Everyone else remained on their feet, with my dad pushing Cary’s wheelchair.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Michna said.

“Thank you.” I looked at Cary, wondering what the hell was going on.

“How long are you in town?” the detective asked my dad.

“Just for the weekend.”

Graves smiled at me. “You go out to California a lot to see your dad?”

“I just moved from there a couple months ago.”

“I went to Disneyland once when I was a kid,” she said. “That was a while ago, obviously. I’ve been meaning to get back out there.”

I frowned, not understanding why we were making small talk.

“We just need to ask you a couple of questions,” Michna said, pulling a notepad out of the interior pocket of his jacket. “We don’t want to hold you up any longer than we have to.”

Graves nodded, her eyes still on me. “Can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named Nathan Barker, Miss Cabello?”

The room spun. Cary cursed and pushed unsteadily to his feet, taking the few steps to reach the seat beside me. He caught up my hand.

“Miss Cabello?” Graves took a seat on the other end of the sectional.

“He’s her former stepbrother,” Cary snapped. “What’s this about?”

“When’s the last time you saw Barker?” Michna asked.

In a courtroom . . . I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry as sawdust. “Eight years ago,” I said hoarsely.

“Did you know he was here in New York?”

Oh God. I shook my head violently.

“Where’s this going?” my dad asked.

I looked helplessly at Cary, then at Lauren. My dad didn’t know about Nathan. I didn’t want him to know.

Cary squeezed my hand. Lauren wouldn’t even look at me.

“Miss. Jauregui,” Graves said. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you know Nathan Barker?”

My eyes pleaded with Lauren not to say anything in front of my dad, but she never once glanced my way.

“You wouldn’t be asking that question,” she answered, “if you didn’t already know the answer.”

My stomach dropped. A violent shiver moved through me. Still, Lauren wouldn’t look at me. My brain was trying to process what was happening . . . what it meant . . . what was going on . . .

“Is there a point to these questions?” my father asked.

The blood was roaring in my ears. My heart was pounding with something like terror. The mere thought of Nathan being so close was enough to send me into a panic. I was panting. The room was swimming before my eyes. I thought I might pass out.

Graves was watching me like a hawk. “Can you just tell us where you were yesterday, Miss Cabello?”

“Where I was?” I repeated. “Yesterday?”

“Don’t answer that,” my dad ordered. “This interview isn’t going any further until we know what this is about.”

Michna nodded, as if he’d expected the interruption. “Nathan Barker was found dead this morning.”

#lauren jauregui #camila cabello #lauren jauregay #camila and lauren #laurengip #camren gip #lauren and camila

Chapter 14

I hardly slept all night. I tossed and turned, drifting in and out of consciousness. The frequent nurse visits to check on Cary also woke me. His brain scans and lab reports were looking good and there was nothing absolutely definitive to worry about, but I hadn’t been there for him when he’d first gotten hurt. I felt like I needed to be there for him now, sleep or no sleep.

Just before six, I gave up and got out of bed.

Grabbing my tablet and wireless keyboard, I headed down to the cafeteria for coffee. I pulled up a chair at one of the tables and prepared to write a letter to Lauren. In the short amounts of time I’d managed to pin her down the last couple of days, I hadn’t been able to get my thoughts across to her. Writing it all out would have to be the way it got done. Maintaining steady, open communication was the only way we were going to survive as a couple.

I sipped my coffee and began typing, starting with my thanks for the beautiful weekend away and how much it meant to me. I told her how I thought our relationship had taken a massive leap forward during the trip, which only made the week’s backslide harder to bear—

“Camila. What a pleasant surprise!”

Turning my head, I found Dr. Terrence Lucas standing behind me holding a disposable coffee cup like the one I’d filled for myself. He was dressed for work in slacks and tie with a white lab coat. “Hi,” I greeted him, hoping I hid my wariness.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, rounding me.

“Not at all.”

I watched him take the seat beside me, and I refreshed my memory of his appearance. His hair was pure white, without a hint of gray, but his handsome face was unlined. His eyes were an unusual shade of green and they were keen with intelligence. His smile was both reassuring and charming. I suspected he was popular with his patients—and their mothers.

“There has to be some special reason,” he began, “for you to be in the hospital long before visiting hours.”

“My roommate’s here.” I didn’t volunteer any more information, but he guessed.

“So Lauren Jauregui threw her money around and made arrangements for you.” He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “And you’re grateful. But what will it cost you?”

I sat back, offended on Lauren’s behalf that her generosity was reduced to having an ulterior motive. “Why do you two dislike each other so much?”

His eyes lost their softness. “She hurt someone very close to me.”

“Your wife. She told me.” I could tell that startled him. “But that wasn’t the beginning, was it? That was a result.”

“You know what she did, and you’re still with her?” Lucas set his elbows on the table. “She’s doing the same thing to you. You look exhausted and depressed. That’s part of the game to her, you know. She’s an expert at worshipping a woman as if she needs her to breathe. Then suddenly she can’t bear the sight of her.”

The statement was a painfully accurate description of my present reality with Lauren. My pulse quickened.

His gaze slid to my throat, then back to my face. His mouth curved in a mocking, knowing smile. “You’ve experienced what I’m talking about. She’s going to continue to play with you until you rely on her mood to gauge your own. Then she’ll get bored and dump you.”

“What happened between you?” I asked again, knowing that was key.

“Lauren Jauregui is a narcissistic sociopath,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I believe she’s a misogynist. She uses her money to seduce women, then despises them for being shallow enough to find her wealth attractive. She uses sex to control, and you never know what sort of mood you’ll find her in. That’s part of the rush—when you’re always steeling yourself for the worst, you psych yourself up for a surge of relief when she’s at her best.”

“You don’t know her,” I said smoothly, refusing to take the bait. “And neither does your wife.”

“Neither do you.” He sat back and drank his coffee, appearing as unruffled as I tried to be. “No one does. She’s a master manipulator and liar. Don’t underestimate her. She’s a twisted, dangerous woman capable of just about anything.”

“The fact that you won’t explain her grudge against you makes me think you’re at fault.”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions. There are some things I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

“That’s convenient.”

He sighed. “I’m not your adversary, Camila, and Jauregui doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles. You don’t have to believe me. Frankly, I’m so bitter I wouldn’t believe me if I were in your place. But you’re a beautiful, smart young lady.”

I hadn’t been lately, but it was my responsibility to fix that. Or walk.

“If you take a step back,” he continued, “and look at what she’s doing to you, how you’re feeling about yourself since you’ve been with her, and whether you’re truly fulfilled by your relationship, you’ll come to your own conclusions.”

Something beeped and he pulled his smartphone out of his coat pocket. “Ah, my latest patient has just entered the world.”

He pushed to his feet and looked down at me, setting his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be the one who gets away. I’m glad.”

I watched him walk briskly out of the cafeteria and collapsed into the seat back the moment he disappeared from view, deflating from exhaustion and confusion. My gaze moved to the sleeping screen of my tablet. I didn’t have the energy to finish my letter.

I packed up and went to get ready for Angus’s arrival.

* * *

“You up for Chinese?”

I looked up from the layout of the blueberry coffee ad on my desk into the warm brown eyes of my boss. I realized it was Wednesday, our usual day to go eat with Steven.

For a second, I considered bowing out and eating at my desk because I wanted to make Lauren happy. But just as quickly, I knew I’d resent her if I did. I was still trying to build a new life in New York, which included making friends and having plans that existed outside the life I shared with her.

“Always up for Chinese,” I said. My very first meal with Mark and Steven had been Chinese takeout here in the office, on a night when we’d worked well past closing and Steven had stopped by to feed us.

Mark and I headed out at noon, and I refused to feel guilty about something I enjoyed so much. Steven was waiting for us at the restaurant, seated at a round table with a lacquered lazy Susan in the middle.

“Hey, you.” He greeted me with a big bear hug, then pulled a chair out for me. He studied me as we both sat down. “You look tired.”

I guessed I must really look like shit, since everyone kept telling me that. “It’s been a rough week so far.”

The waitress came by and Steven ordered a dim sum appetizer and the same dishes we’d shared for that first late-evening meal—kung pao chicken and broccoli beef. When we were alone again, Steven said, “I didn’t know your roommate was gay. Did you tell us that?”

“He’s bi, actually.” I realized Steven, or someone he knew, must have seen the same newspaper Cary had showed me. “I don’t think it came up.”

“How’s he feeling?” Mark asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Better. He might be coming home today.” Which was something that had been weighing on me all morning, since Lauren hadn’t called to tell me definitively one way or the other.

“Let us know if you need any help,” Steven said, all traces of levity gone. “We’re here for you.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t a hate crime,” I clarified. “I don’t know where the reporter got that. I used to respect journalists. Now, so few of them do their homework, and fewer still can write objectively.”

“I’m sure it’s tough living in the media spotlight.” Steven squeezed my hand on the table. He was a gregarious, playful fellow, but beneath that fun exterior was a solid man with a kind heart. “But then you have to kinda expect it when you’re juggling rock stars and billionaires.”

“Steven,” Mark scolded, frowning.

“Ugh.” My nose wrinkled. “Shawna told you.”

“Of course she did,” Steven said. “Least she can do after not inviting me along to the concert. But don’t worry. She’s not a gossip. She won’t be telling anyone else.”

I nodded, having no anxiety about that. Shawna was good people, but it was still embarrassing having my boss know I’d kissed one person while dating another.

“Not that it would be a bad thing for Jauregui to get a taste of her own medicine,” Steven muttered.

I frowned, confused. Then I caught Mark’s sympathetic gaze.

I realized the gay newspaper wasn’t the only news they’d seen. They must have seen the photos of Lauren and Corinne, too. I felt my face flush with humiliation.

“She’ll get a taste,” I muttered. “If I have to cram it down her throat.”

Steven’s brows shot up, and then he laughed and patted my hand. “Get her, girl.”

* * *

I’d barely returned to my desk when my work phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office, Camila—”

“Why is it so damn difficult for you to follow orders?” Lauren asked harshly.

I just sat there, staring at the collage of photos she’d given me, pictures of us looking connected and in love.

“Camila?”

“What do you want from me, Lauren?” I asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence, then she exhaled. “Cary will be moved to your apartment this afternoon under the supervision of his doctor and a private nurse. He should be there when you get home.”

“Thank you.” Another stretch of quiet filled the line between us, but she didn’t hang up. Finally, I queried, “Are we done?”

The question had a double meaning. I wondered if she caught that or even cared.

“Angus will give you a ride home.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “Good-bye, Lauren.”

I hung up and got back to work.

* * *

I checked on Cary the minute I got home. His bed had been moved aside and propped vertically against the wall to make room for a hospital bed that he could adjust at will. He was asleep when I came in, his nurse sitting in a new recliner and reading an e-book. It was the same nurse I’d seen the first night in the hospital, the pretty and exotic-looking one who had trouble taking her eyes off Lauren.

I wondered when she’d spoken to her—if she’d done it herself or sent someone else to do it—and whether she’d agreed for the money or for Lauren or both.

The fact that I was too tired to care one way or another said a lot about my own disconnection. Maybe there were people out there whose love could survive anything, but mine was fragile. It needed to be nurtured in order to thrive and grow.

I took a long, hot shower, then crawled into bed. I pulled my tablet onto my lap and tried to continue my letter to Lauren. I wanted to express my thoughts and reservations in a mature and cogent way. I wanted to make it easy for her to understand my reactions to some of the things she did and said, so she could see things from my point of view.

In the end, I didn’t have the energy.

I’m not elaborating any more, I wrote instead, because if I keep going, I’ll beg. And if you don’t know me well enough to know that you’re hurting me, a letter isn’t going to fix our problems.

I’m desperate for you. I’m miserable without you. I think about the weekend, and the hours we spent together, and I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do to have you like that again. Instead, you’re spending time with HER, while I’m alone on my fourth night without you.

Even knowing you’ve been with her, I want to crawl on my knees for you and beg for scraps. A touch. A kiss. One tender word. You’ve made me that weak.

I hate myself like this. I hate that I need you this much. I hate that I’m so obsessed with you.

I hate that I love you.

Camila

I attached it to an e-mail with the subject line My thoughts—uncensored and hit send.

* * *

“Don’t be afraid.”

I woke to those three words and utter darkness. The mattress dipped as Lauren sat beside me, leaning over me with her arms bracketing my body and the blankets between us, a cocoon and barrier that allowed my mind to wake without fear. The delicious and unmistakable fragrance of her soap and shampoo mixed with the scent of her skin, soothing me along with her voice.

“Angel.” She took my mouth, her lips slanting over mine.

I touched her chest with my fingers, feeling bare skin. She groaned and stood, bending over me so her mouth stayed connected to mine while she yanked the blankets off and away.

Then she was settling over me, her body nude and hot to the touch. Her ardent mouth moved down my throat, her hands pushing up my camisole so she could get to my breasts. Her lips surrounded my nipple and she suckled, her weight supported by one forearm on the mattress, her other hand pushing between my legs.

She cupped my sex, her fingertip gliding over the satin along the seam of my cleft. Her tongue flickered over my nipple, making it hard and tight, her teeth sinking lightly into the taut flesh.

“Lauren!” Tears slid in rivulets down my temples, the protective numbness I’d felt earlier falling away, leaving me exposed. I’d been withering without her, the world around me losing its vibrancy, my body hurting from its separation from hers. Having her with me . . . touching me . . . was like rain in a drought. My soul unfurled for her, opening wide to soak her in.

I loved her so much.

Her hair tickled my skin as her open mouth slid over my cleavage, her chest expanding as she breathed me in, nuzzling and wallowing in my scent. She captured the tip of my other breast with hard, deep suction. The pleasure shot through me, echoing in the clenching of my sex against her teasing fingertip.

She moved down my torso, licking and nibbling a path across my stomach, the breadth of her shoulders forcing my legs wider until her hot breath gusted over my slick cleft. Her nose pressed against the wet satin, stroking me. She inhaled with a groan.

“Camila. I’ve been starved for you.”

With impatient fingers, Lauren shoved the crotch of my panties aside and her mouth was on me. She held me open with her thumbs, her tongue lashing over my throbbing clit. My back arched with a cry, all my senses painfully acute without the benefit of sight. Tilting her head, she thrust into the quivering opening of my sex, fucking rhythmically, teasing me with shallow plunges.

“Oh God!” I writhed with the pleasure, my core clenching and releasing with the first tingles of orgasm.

I came in a violent rush, sweat misting my skin, my lungs burning as I fought for breath. Her lips were around my trembling opening, sucking, her tongue delving. She was eating me with an intensity I was helpless against. The flesh between my legs was so swollen and sensitive, so vulnerable to her ravenous hunger. I was climaxing again within moments, my nails scouring the sheets.

My eyes were opened and blinded by darkness when she ripped my underwear off me and crawled over me. I felt the wide crest of her cock notch into my cleft, and then she lunged, driving deep into me with an animalistic growl. I cried out, shocked by her aggression, turned on by it.

Lauren reared up, resting back on her heels, my thighs splayed over hers. She gripped my hips, elevating them, tilting me to the angle she wanted. She rolled her hips, stirring her cock inside me, pulling me onto her until I gasped in pain at how deep she was. The lips of my sex clung to the very base of her penis, spread wide to encompass the thick root. I had all of her, every inch, crammed too full and loving it. I’d been empty for days, so lonely I ached.

She groaned my name and came, spurting hot and thick, the creamy heat spreading upward along her length because there was no room inside me. She shuddered violently, dripping sweat onto my skin, flooding me. “For you, Camila,” she gasped. “Every drop.”

Pulling out abruptly, she flipped me over onto my belly and yanked my hips up. I gripped my headboard, my damp face pressed into my pillow. I waited for her to push into me and shivered when I felt her breath against my buttocks. Then I jerked violently at the feel of her licking along the seam. She rimmed me with the tip of her tongue, stimulating the puckered opening to my rear.

A broken sound escaped me. I don’t do anal play, Camila.

The tight ring of muscle flexed as I remembered her words, helplessly responding to the delicate flutters. There was nothing in our bed but us. Nothing could touch us when we were touching each other.

Lauren squeezed both of my cheeks in her hands, grounding me in the moment. I was open and parted for her in every way, completely exposed to her lush dark kiss.

“Oh!” I tensed all over. Her tongue was inside me, thrusting. My entire body began to quake from the feeling, my toes curling, my lungs heaving as she possessed me without shame or reservation. “Ah . . . God.”

I lifted into her mouth, giving myself to her. The affinity between us was brutal and raw, nearly unbearable. I felt seared by her desire, my skin feverish, my chest shaking with sobs I couldn’t hold back.

She reached beneath me, pressed the flat of her fingers against my aching clit and rubbing, massaging. Her tongue was driving me insane. The orgasm brewing inside me was spurred by the knowledge that there were no longer any boundaries for her with my body. She would do anything she desired—possess it, use it, pleasure it. Burying my face in my pillow, I screamed as I came, the ecstasy so vicious my legs gave out and I melted into the mattress.

Lauren slid over my back, her knee pushing my legs wide, her perspiration-slick body blanketing mine. She mounted me, pushing her cock inside me, her fingers linking with mine and pinning my hands to the bed. I was soaked with her and she rocked against me, sliding in and out.

“I’m desperate for you,” she said hoarsely. “I’m miserable without you.”

I tensed. “Don’t mock me.”

“I need you as much baby.” She nuzzled into my hair, fucking me slow and easy. “I’m just as obsessed. Why can’t you trust me?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears leaking out. “I don’t understand you. You’re tearing me apart.”

She turned her head and her teeth sank into the top of my shoulder. A pained growl rumbled through her chest and I felt her coming, her cock jerking as it pumped me full of scorching semen.

Her jaw relaxed, releasing me. She panted, her hips still churning. “Your letter gutted me.”

“You won’t talk to me . . . you won’t listen . . .”

“I can’t.” She groaned, her arms tightening around mine so that I was completely at her mercy. “I just . . . It has to be this way.”

“I can’t live like this, Lauren.”

“I’m hurting, too, Camila. It’s killing me, too. Can’t you see that?”

“No.” I cried, my pillow growing wet beneath my cheek.

“Then stop overthinking and feel it! Feel me.”

The night passed in a blur. I punished her with greedy hands and teeth, my nails raking over sweat-slick skin and muscle until she hissed in pleasured pain.

Her lust was frantic and insatiable, her need tinged with a desperation that frightened me because it felt hopeless. It felt like good-bye.

“Need your love,” she whispered against my skin. “Need you.”

She touched me everywhere. She was constantly inside me, with her cock or her fingers or her tongue.

My nipples burned, made raw by her sucking. My sex throbbed and felt bruised from her wild, hard drives. My skin was chafed from the stubble that prickled over her pelvis. My jaw ached from sucking her thick cock. My last memory was of her spooned behind me, her arm banded around my waist as she filled me from behind, both of us sore and exhausted and unable to stop.

“Don’t let go,” I begged, after I’d sworn I wouldn’t.

When I woke to my alarm, she was gone.

#camren #camila cabello #lauren and camila #camila and lauren #camrengip #laurengip #lauren jauregui

Chapter 13

I had to get up before dawn Tuesday morning. I left a note for Cary where he’d see it as soon as he woke up, then headed out to grab a cab back to our place. I showered, dressed, made coffee, and tried to talk myself out of feeling like something was off. I was stressed and suffering from lack of sleep, which always led to tiny bouts of depression.

I told myself that it had nothing to do with Lauren, but the knot in my stomach said differently.

Looking at the clock, I saw it was a little after eight. I’d have to leave soon, because Lauren hadn’t called or texted to say that she’d be giving me a ride. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I’d last seen her or even really talked to her. The call I’d made to her at nine the night before had been less than brief. She’d been in the middle of something and barely said hello and goodbye.

I knew she had a lot of work to do. I knew I shouldn’t resent her for having to pay for the time away with extra hours of work getting caught up. She’d done a lot to help me deal with Cary’s situation, more than anyone could’ve expected. It was up to me to deal with how I was feeling about it.

Finishing my coffee, I rinsed out my mug, then grabbed my purse and bag on the way out. My tree-lined street was quiet, but the rest of New York was wide awake, its ceaseless energy thrumming with a tangible force. Women in chic office wear and men in suits tried to hail taxis that streaked by, before settling for packed buses or the subway instead. Flower stands exploded with brilliant color, the sight of them always capable of cheering me up in the morning, as did the sight and smell of the neighborhood bakery, which was doing a brisk business at that hour.

I was a little ways down Broadway before my phone rang.

The little thrill that shot through me at the sight of Lauren’s name quickened my steps. “Hey, stranger.”

“Where the hell are you?” she snapped.

A frisson of unease dampened my excitement. “I’m on my way to work.”

“Why?” She spoke to someone offline, then, “Are you in a cab?”

“I’m walking. Jeez. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?”

“You should have waited to be picked up.”

“I didn’t hear from you, and I didn’t want to be late after missing work yesterday.”

“You could’ve called me instead of just taking off.” Her voice was low and angry.

I became angry, too. “The last time I called, you were too busy to give me more than a minute of your time.”

“I’ve got things to take care of, Camila. Give me a break.”

“Sure thing. How about now?” I hung up and dropped my phone back into my bag.

It began ringing again immediately and I ignored it, my blood simmering. When the Bentley pulled up beside me a few minutes later, I kept walking. It followed, the front passenger window sliding down.

Angus leaned over. “Miss Cabello, please.”

I paused, looking at him. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

With a sigh, I got in the car. My phone was still ringing nonstop, so I reached in and shut the ringer off. One block later, I heard Lauren’s voice coming through the car’s speakers.

“Do you have her?”

“Yes, sir,” Angus replied.

The line cut out.

“What the hell crawled up her ass and died?” I asked, looking at Angus in the rearview mirror.

“She’s got a lot on her mind.”

Whatever it was, it sure wasn’t me. I couldn’t believe what a jerk she was being. She’d been curt on the phone the night before, too, but not rude.

Within a few minutes after I arrived at work, Mark came up to my cubicle. “I’m sorry to hear about your roommate,” he said, setting a fresh cup of coffee on my desk. “Is he going to be all right?”

“Eventually. Cary’s tough; he’ll pull through.” I dropped my stuff in the bottom drawer of my desk and picked up the steaming mug with gratitude. “Thank you. And thanks for yesterday, too.”

His dark eyes were warm with concern. “I’m surprised you’re here today.”

“I need to work.” I managed a smile, despite feeling all twisted up and achy inside. Nothing was right in my world when things weren’t right between me and Lauren. “Catch me up on what I missed.”

* * *

The morning passed swiftly. I had a checklist of follow-ups waiting from the week before, and Mark had an eleven thirty deadline to turn around a request for proposal for a promotional items manufacturer. By the time we sent the RFP off, I was back in the groove and willing to just forget Lauren’s mood that morning. I wondered if she’d had another nightmare and hadn’t slept well. I decided to call her when lunchtime rolled around, just in case.

And then I checked my inbox.

The Google alert I’d set up for Lauren’s name was waiting for me. I opened the e-mail hoping to get an idea of what she might be working on. The words former fiancée in some of the headlines leaped out at me. The knot I’d had in my gut earlier returned, tighter than before.

I clicked on the first link, and it took me to a gossip blog sporting pictures of Lauren and Corinne having dinner at Tableau One. They sat close together in the front window, her hand resting intimately on her forearm. She was wearing the suit she’d worn to the hospital the day before, but I checked the date anyway, desperately hoping the photos were old. They weren’t.

My palms began to sweat. I tortured myself by clicking through all the links and studying every photo I found. She was smiling in a few of them, looking remarkably content for a woman whose girlfriend was at a hospital with her beaten-half-to-death best friend. I felt like throwing up. Or screaming. Or storming up to Lauren’s office and asking her what the hell was going on.

She’d blown me off when I’d called her the night before—to go to dinner with her ex.

I jumped when my desk phone rang. I picked it up and woodenly recited, “Mark Garrity’s office, Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Camila.” It was Megumi in reception, sounding as bubbly as usual. “There’s someone asking for you downstairs—Brett Kline.”

I sat there for a long minute, letting that sink into my fevered brain. I forwarded the alert digest to Lauren’s e-mail so she’d know that I knew. Then I said, “I’ll be right down.”

* * *

I saw Brett in the lobby the minute I pushed through the security turnstiles. He wore black jeans and a Six-Ninths T-shirt. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but the spiky hair with its bleached tips was eye-catching, as was his body. Brett was tall and muscular, more muscular than Lauren, who was powerful without any bulk.

Brett’s hands came out of his pockets when he saw me coming, his posture straightening. “Hey. Look at you.”

I glanced down at my cap-sleeved dress with its flattering ruching and acknowledged that he’d never seen me dressed up. “I’m surprised you’re still in town.”

More surprised that he’d looked me up, but I didn’t say that. I was glad he had, because I’d been worried about him.

“We sold out our Jones Beach show over the weekend, then played the Meadowlands last night. I skipped out on the guys because I wanted to see you before we head south. I searched for you online, found out where you worked, and came up.”

Good old Google, I thought miserably. “I’m so stoked that everything’s working out for you now. Do you have time to grab lunch?”

“Yes.”

His answer came quickly and fervently, which set off a little warning. I was pissed, extremely hurt, and eager to retaliate against Lauren, but I didn’t want to mislead Brett. Still, I couldn’t resist taking him to the restaurant where Cary and I had once been photographed together, in the hopes of getting caught by the paparazzi again. It would serve Lauren right to see what it felt like.

On the cab ride over, Brett asked about Cary and wasn’t surprised to learn that my best friend had moved across the country with me.

“You two were always inseparable,” he said. “Except when he was getting laid. Tell him I said hi.”

“Sure.” I didn’t mention that Cary was in the hospital, because it felt too private to share.

It wasn’t until we were seated in the restaurant that Brett took off his shades, so that was the first time I got a glimpse of the shiner that encompassed the area from his right eyebrow down to his cheekbone.

“Jesus,” I breathed, wincing. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Makeup made it disappear on stage. And you’ve seen me with worse. Besides, I got a couple good hits in, didn’t I?”

Remembering the bruising on Lauren’s jaw and back, I nodded. “You did.”

“So . . .” He paused as the waiter came by and dropped off two glasses and a chilled bottle of water. “You’re dating Lauren Jauregui.”

I wondered why that question always seemed to pop up at a time when I wasn’t sure the relationship would last another minute. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

“Is it serious?”

“Sometimes it seems that way,” I said honestly. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Not now.”

We took some time to read the menu and place our orders. The restaurant was busy and noisy, the background music barely heard over the hum of conversation and clatter of plates from the nearby kitchen. We looked across the table at each other, sizing one another up. I felt the thrum of attraction between us. When he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, I knew he was aware of it, too.

“Why did you write ‘Golden’?” I asked suddenly, unable to hold back my curiosity a moment longer. I’d been playing it off as nothing big with both Lauren and Cary, but it was driving me crazy.

Brett sat back in his chair. “Because I think about you a lot. I can’t stop thinking about you actually.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“We had it going on for six months, Camila. That’s the longest I’ve ever been with someone.”

“But we weren’t with each other,” I argued. My voice lowered. “Aside from sexually.”

His mouth thinned. “I understand what I was to you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t get hurt.”

I stared at him for a long minute, my heart beating too quickly in my chest. “I feel like I’m stoned or something. The way I remember it, we’d hook up after shows, then you’d go about your business. And if I wasn’t there to put out, you’d grab someone else.”

He leaned forward. “Bullshit. I tried getting you to hang out. I was always asking you to stick around.”

I took a couple of quick, deep breaths to calm myself down. I could hardly believe that now, almost four years too late, Brett Kline was talking to me like I’d once wanted him to. We were out in public together, having a meal, almost like a date. It was messing with my head, which was already confused and scattered because of Lauren.

“I had the biggest crush on you, Brett. I wrote your name with little hearts around it like a lovesick teenager. I wanted desperately to be your girlfriend.”

“Are you kidding me?” He reached out and caught my hand. “What the fuck happened, then?”

I looked down at where he was absently twirling the ring Lauren had given me. “Remember when we went to the pool hall?”

“Yeah. How could I forget that?” He bit his lower lip, clearly recalling how I’d fucked his brains out in the back of his car, determined to be the best lay he’d ever had so he wouldn’t bother with other girls. “I thought we were getting to the point where we’d start seeing each other outside the bar, but you ditched me the minute we got inside.”

“I went to the bathroom,” I said quietly, remembering the pain and embarrassment as if the incident had just happened, “and when I came out you and Darrin were at the change machine getting quarters for the tables. Your back was to me so you didn’t see me. I heard you guys talking . . . and laughing.”

I pulled in a deep breath and tugged my hand away from him.

To his credit, Brett shifted in obvious embarrassment. “I can’t remember exactly what was said, but . . . Shit, Camila. I was twenty-one years old. The band was just starting to get popular. The chicks were everywhere.”

“I know,” I said dryly. “I was one of them.”

“I’d been with you a few times by then. Bringing you along to the pool hall made a statement to the guys that things were picking up between us.” He rubbed at his brow in a very familiar gesture. “I didn’t have the balls to own up to how I was feeling about you. I made it about the sex, but that wasn’t true.”

I lifted my glass and drank, forcing down the lump in my throat.

His hand dropped onto the armrest. “So I screwed it up with my big mouth. That’s why you bailed that night. That’s why you never went anywhere with me again.”

“I was desperate, Brett,” I admitted, “but I didn’t want to show it.”

The waiter brought our food. I wondered why I’d ordered anything—I was too unsettled to eat.

Brett started cutting into his steak, attacking it really. Suddenly, he set his knife and fork down. “I blew it back then, but now everyone knows what was going on in my head at the time. ‘Golden’ is our biggest single. It’s what got us signed with Vidal.”

The idea of closure made me smile. “It’s a beautiful song, and your voice sounds amazing when you sing it. I’m really glad you came up and saw me again before you head out. It means a lot to me that we talked through this.”

“What if I don’t want to just head out and move on?” He took a deep breath and released it in a rush. “You’ve been my muse the last few years, Camila. Because of you, I’ve written the best material the band’s ever had.”

“That’s very flattering,” I began.

“We sizzled together. Still do. I know you feel it. The way you kissed me the other night . . .”

“That was a mistake.” My hands clenched beneath the table. I couldn’t deal with more drama. I couldn’t go through another night like Friday. “And you need to think about the fact that Lauren controls your label. You don’t want any friction there.”

“Fuck it. What’s she going to do?” His fingertips drummed onto the table. “I want another shot with you.”

I shook my head and reached for my purse. “That’s impossible. Even if I didn’t have a girlfriend, I’m not the right girl for your lifestyle, Brett. I’m too high-maintenance.”

“I remember,” he said roughly. “God, do I remember.”

I flushed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“And that’s not all I want. I can be here for you. Look at me now—the band’s on the road, but you and I are together. I can make time. I want to.”

“It’s not that easy.” I pulled cash out of my wallet and dropped it on the table. “You don’t know me. You have no idea what it would mean to have a relationship with me, how much work it would take.”

“Try me,” he challenged.

“I’m needy and clingy and insanely jealous. I’d drive you crazy within a week.”

“You’ve always driven me crazy. I like it.” His smile faded. “Stop running, Camila. Give me a chance.”

I met his gaze and held it. “I’m in love with Lauren.”

His brows rose. Even battered, his face was breathtaking. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” I pushed to my feet and moved to pass him.

He caught my elbow. “Camila—”

“Please don’t make a scene,” I whispered, regretting my impetuous decision to eat at a popular place.

“You didn’t eat.”

“I can’t. I need to leave.”

“Fine. But I’m not giving up.” He released me. “I make mistakes, but I learn from them.”

I bent over and said firmly, “There’s no chance. None.”

Brett stabbed his fork into a slice of his steak. “Prove it.”

* * *

The Bentley was waiting at the curb when I stepped out of the restaurant. Angus climbed out and opened the rear door for me.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked, unsettled by his unexpected appearance.

His answer was to smile kindly and touch the brim of his chauffeur’s hat.

“This is creepy, Angus,” I complained as I slid into the backseat.

“I don’t disagree, Miss Cabello. I’m just doing my job.”

I texted Cary on the ride back to the Crossfire: Had lunch with Brett. He wants another chance w/me.

Cary replied, When it rains it pours . . .

Whole day = royally fucked, I typed. I want a do-over.

My phone rang. It was Cary.

“Baby girl,” he drawled. “I want to sympathize, I do, but the love triangle thing is just too delicious. The determined rock star and the possessive billionaire. Rawr.”

“Oh God. Hanging up now.”

“See you tonight?”

“Yes. Please don’t make me regret it.” I hung up to the sound of his laughter, secretly thrilled to hear him sounding so happy. Trey’s visit must have worked wonders.

Angus dropped me off at the curb in front of the Crossfire, and I hurried out of the heat into the cool lobby. I managed to catch an open elevator just before the doors closed. There were a half dozen other people in the car with me, forming two groups that chatted among themselves. I stood in the front corner and tried to put my personal life out of my mind. I couldn’t deal with it at work.

“Hey, we passed our floor,” the girl next to me said.

I looked at the needle over the door.

The guy nearest the control panel stabbed repeatedly at all the numbers, but none of them lit up . . . except for the one for the top floor. “The buttons aren’t working.”

My pulse quickened.

“Use the emergency phone,” one of the other girls said.

The car raced up and the butterflies in my stomach got worse with every floor we passed. The elevator finally came to a gliding stop at the top and the doors opened.

Lauren stood on the threshold, her face a gorgeous impassive mask. Her eyes were brilliantly green . . . and cold as ice. The sight of her took my breath away.

No one in the car said a word. I didn’t move, praying the doors would hurry up and close. Lauren reached in, grabbed my elbow, and hauled me out. I struggled, too furious to want anything to do with her. The doors closed behind me and she let me go.

“Your behavior today has been appalling,” she growled.

“My behavior? What about yours?”

I crossed over to the call buttons and hit the down button. It wouldn’t stay lit.

“I’m talking to you, Camila.”

I glanced at the security doors to Cross Industries and was relieved to see that the redheaded receptionist was away from her station.

“Really?” I faced her, hating that I could still find her so irresistibly attractive when she was being so ugly. “Funny how that doesn’t lead to me actually learning anything—like about you going out with Corinne last night.”

“You shouldn’t be snooping online about me,” she bit out. “You’re deliberately trying to find something to get upset about.”

“So your actions aren’t the problem?” I shot back, feeling the pressure of tears at the back of my throat. “Just my finding out about them is?”

Her arms crossed. “You need to trust me, Camila.”

“You’re making that impossible! Why didn’t you tell me that you were going out to dinner with Corinne?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“But you did it anyway.” And that hurt. After all we’d talked about over the weekend . . . after she’d said that she understood how I felt . . .

“And you went out with Brett Kline knowing I wouldn’t like it.”

“What did I tell you? You’re setting the precedent for how I handle my exes.”

“Tit for tat? What a remarkable show of maturity.”

I stumbled back from her. There was none of the Lauren I knew in the woman facing me. It felt as if the woman I loved had disappeared and the woman standing in front of me was a total stranger in Lauren’s body.

“You’re making me hate you,” I whispered. “Stop it.”

Something passed briefly over Lauren’s face, but it was gone before I could identify it. I let her body language do the talking for her. She stood far from me, with her shoulders stiff and her jaw tight.

My heart bled and my gaze dropped. “I can’t be around you right now. Let me go.”

Lauren moved to the other bank of elevators and pushed the call button. With her back to me and her attention on the indicator arrow, she said, “Angus will pick you up every morning. Wait for him. And I prefer that you eat lunch at your desk. It’s best if you’re not running around right now.”

“Why not?”

“I have a lot of things on my plate at the moment—”

“Like dinner with Corinne?”

“—and I can’t be worrying about you,” she went on, ignoring my interruption. “I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

Something was wrong.

“Lauren, why won’t you talk to me?” I reached out and touched her shoulder, only to have her jerk away as if I’d burned her. More than anything else, her rejection of my touch wounded me deeply. “Tell me what’s going on. If there’s a problem—”

“The problem is that I don’t know where the hell you are half the time!” she snapped, turning to scowl at me as the elevator doors opened. “Your roommate is in the hospital. Your dad is coming to visit. Just . . . focus on that.”

I stepped into the elevator with burning eyes. Aside from pulling me out of the elevator when it first arrived, Lauren hadn’t touched me. She hadn’t run her fingertips down my cheek or made any attempt to kiss me. And she made no mention of wanting to see me later, skipping right over the rest of the day to tell me about Angus waiting for me in the morning.

I’d never been so confused. I couldn’t figure out what was happening, why there was suddenly this huge gulf between us, why Lauren was so tense and angry, why she didn’t seem to care that I’d had lunch with Brett.

Why she didn’t seem to care about anything at all.

The doors started to close. Trust me, Camila.

Had she breathed those words in the second before the doors shut? Or did I just wish that she had?

* * *

The moment I walked into Cary’s private room, he knew I was running on fumes. I’d endured a tough Krav Maga session with Parker, then stopped by the apartment only long enough to shower and eat a tasteless instant-ramen meal. The shock of the salt and carbs to my system after a day without food was more than enough to exhaust me past the point of no return.

“You look like shit,” he said, muting the television.

“Look who’s talking,” I shot back, feeling too raw to take any criticism.

“I got hit with a baseball bat. What’s your excuse?”

I arranged the pillow and scratchy blanket on my cot, then told him about my day from beginning to end.

“And I haven’t heard from Lauren since,” I finished wearily. “Even Brett got in touch with me after lunch. He left an envelope at the security desk with his phone number in it.”

He’d also included the cash I left at the restaurant.

“Are you going to call him?” Cary asked.

“I don’t want to think about Brett!” I sprawled on my back on the cot and shoved my hands through my hair. “I want to know what’s wrong with Lauren. She’s had a total personality transplant in the last thirty-six hours!”

“Maybe it’s this.”

I lifted my head off the pillow and saw him pointing at something on his bedside table. Rolling to my feet, I checked it out—a local gay periodical.

“Trey brought that over today,” he said.

Cary’s picture capped a front-page piece covering his attack—including speculation that the assault might have been a hate crime. His living situation with me and my romantic entanglement with Lauren Jauregui were mentioned, for no other reason, it seemed, than for a salacious punch.

“It’s on their website, too,” he added quietly. “I figure someone at the agency gossiped, and it spread and turned into someone’s political crap. Honestly, I’m having a hard time imagining Jauregui giving a shit—”

“About your sexual orientation? She doesn’t. She’s not like that.”

“But his PR people might feel differently. Could be why she wants to keep you under the radar. And if she’s worried that someone might go after you to get to me, that explains why she wants to keep you tucked away and off the streets.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me that?” I set the paper down. “Why is she being such a prick? Everything was so wonderful while we were gone. She was wonderful. I thought we’d turned a corner. I kept thinking she wasn’t anything like the woman I’d first met, and now she’s worse. There’s this . . . I don’t know. She’s a million miles away from me now. I don’t understand it.”

“I’m not the guy to ask, Camila.” Cary grabbed my hand and squeezed. “She’s the one with the answers.”

“You’re right.” I went to my purse and pulled out my phone. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

I went to the little enclosed balcony off the visitors’ waiting area and called Lauren. The phone rang and rang, eventually going to voice mail. I tried her home number instead. After the third ring, Lauren answered.

“Jauregui,” she said curtly.

“Hi.”

There was silence for the length of a heartbeat, then, “Hang on.”

I heard a door open. The sound on the phone changed—he’d stepped away from wherever he’d been.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“No.” I rubbed at my tired eyes. “I miss you.”

She sighed. “I . . . I can’t talk now, Camila.”

“Why not? I don’t understand why you’re acting so cold to me. Did I do something wrong?” I heard murmuring and realized she’d muffled the receiver to talk to someone else. A horrible feeling of betrayal tightened my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Lauren. Who’s at your place with you?”

“I have to go.”

“Tell me who’s there with you!”

“Angus will be at the hospital at seven. Get some sleep, angel.”

The line went dead.

I lowered my hand and stared at my phone, as if it could somehow reveal to me what the fuck had just happened.

I made it back to Cary’s room, felt weighted down and miserable as I pushed open the door.

Cary took one look at me and sighed. “You look like your puppy just died, baby girl.”

The dam broke. I started sobbing.

#camren #lauren and camila #camila cabello #lauren jauregui #lauren

Chapter 12

Lauren and I arrived back in Manhattan just before midnight on Sunday. We’d spent the previous night sleeping apart, but most of the day together in the master bed. Kissing and touching. Laughing and whispering.

By silent agreement we didn’t talk about painful things during the rest of our time away. We didn’t turn on the television or radio, because it seemed wrong to share our time with anyone. We walked on the beach again. We made long, slow, lazy love on the third-story deck. We played cards and she won every hand. We recharged and reminded ourselves that what we’d found with each other was worth fighting for.

It was the most perfect day of my life.

We returned to my apartment when we got back into the city. Lauren unlocked the door for us with the key I’d given her, and we entered the darkened space as quietly as possible so that we didn’t wake Cary. Lauren gave me one of her soul-melting kisses good night and headed to the guest room, and I crawled into my lonely bed without her. Missing her. I wondered how long we’d be sleeping apart from each other. Months? Years?

Hating to think of it, I closed my eyes and started to drift.

The light flicked on.

“Camila. Get up.” Lauren strode into the room and straight to my dresser, digging through my clothes.

I blinked at her, noting that she’d changed into slacks and a button-down dress shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cary,” she said grimly. “He’s in the hospital.”

* * *

A cab was waiting for us at the curb when we left my apartment building. Lauren ushered me in, then slid in beside me.

The cab seemed to pull away very slowly. Everything seemed to be moving slowly.

I clutched at Lauren’s sleeve. “What happened?”

“He was attacked Friday night.”

“How do you know?”

“Your mother and Stanton both left messages on my cell phone.”

“My mother . . . ?” I looked at her blankly. “Why didn’t she . . . ?”

No, she couldn’t call me. I hadn’t had my phone. Guilt and worry drowned me, making it hard to breathe.

“Camila.” She put her arm around my shoulders, urging me to rest my head against her. “Don’t worry until we know more.”

“It’s been days, Lauren. And I wasn’t here.”

Tears poured down my face and wouldn’t stop, even after we arrived at the hospital. I barely registered the exterior of the building, my attention dulled by the hard-driving anxiety pounding through me. I thanked God for Lauren, who was so calm and in control. A staff member provided the number of Cary’s room, but his helpfulness ended there. Lauren made a few middle-of-the-night phone calls that got me access to see Cary, even though it was well outside visiting hours. Lauren had been a very generous benefactor at times and that wasn’t easily dismissed or forgotten.

When I stepped into Cary’s private room and saw him, my heart shattered so completely, my knees went weak. Only Lauren kept me from falling. The man I thought of as my brother, the best friend I’d ever had or ever would have, lay silent and unmoving in the bed. His head was bandaged and his eyes blackened. One of his arms was stuck with intravenous lines, while the other was in a cast. I wouldn’t have recognized him, if I hadn’t known who he was.

Flowers covered every flat surface, cheerful and colorful bouquets. There were balloons, too, and a few cards. I knew some would be from my mother and Stanton, who were certainly paying for Cary’s care as well.

We were his family. And everyone had been there for him but me.

Lauren led me closer, her arm tight around my waist to hold me up. I was sobbing, the tears flowing thick and hot. It was everything I could do to remain silent.

Still, Cary must have heard me or sensed me. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. It took him a minute to find me. When he did, he blinked a few times, and then tears started rolling down his temples.

“Cary.” I rushed to him and slipped my hand in his. “I’m here.”

He gripped me so tightly, it was painful. “Camila.”

“I’m sorry I took so long. I didn’t have my phone. I had no idea. I would’ve been here if I’d known.”

“S’okay. You’re here now.” His throat worked on a swallow. “God . . . everything hurts.”

“I’ll get a nurse,” Lauren said, running her hand down my back before slipping silently out of the room.

I saw a small pitcher and cup with straw on the rolling tray table. “Are you thirsty?”

“Very.”

“Can I sit you up? Or no?” I was afraid to do anything to cause him pain.

“Yeah.”

Using the remote lying near his hand, I raised the top part of the bed so that he was reclined. Then I brought the straw to his lips and watched him drink greedily.

He relaxed with a sigh. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, baby girl.”

“What the hell happened?” I set the empty cup down and grabbed his hand again.

“Fuck if I know.” His voice was weak, almost a whisper. “Got jumped. With a bat.”

“With a bat?” Just the thought made me physically ill. The brutality of it. The violence . . . “Was he insane?”

“Of course,” he snapped, a deep line of pain between his brows.

I backed up a half step. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. Shit. I’m—” His eyes closed. “I’m exhausted.”

Just then the nurse came in wearing scrubs decorated with cartoon tongue depressors and animated stethoscopes. She was young and pretty, with dark hair and sloe eyes. She checked Cary over, took his blood pressure, then pressed the button on a remote wrapped around the guardrail.

“You can self-administer every thirty minutes for pain,” she told him. “Just press this button. It won’t dispense a dose if it’s not time, so you don’t have to worry about pressing it too often.”

“Once is too often,” he muttered, looking at me.

I understood his reluctance; he had an addictive personality. He’d traveled a short ways down the junkie road before I kicked some sense into him.

But it was a relief to see the lines of pain on his forehead smooth out and his breathing settle into a deeper rhythm.

The nurse looked at me. “He needs his rest. You should come back during visiting hours.”

Cary looked at me desperately. “Don’t go.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Lauren said, reentering the room. “I’ve arranged to have a cot brought in tonight.”

I didn’t think it was possible to love Lauren more than I already did, but she somehow kept finding ways to prove me wrong.

The nurse smiled shyly at Lauren.

“Cary could use more water,” I told her, watching her pull her gaze reluctantly away from my girlfriend to look at me.

She grabbed the pitcher and left the room.

Lauren stepped closer to the bed and spoke to Cary. “Tell me what happened.”

Cary sighed. “Trey and I went out Friday, but he had to bail early. I walked him out to grab a cab, but it was nuts right in front of the club, so we went around the corner. He’d just taken off when I got nailed in the back of the head. Took me straight down and whaled on me a few times. Never got a chance to defend myself.”

My hands began to shake, and Cary’s thumb rubbed soothingly over the back.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Teaches me. Don’t stick my dick in the wrong chick.”

“What?”

I watched Cary’s eyes drift shut, and a moment later it was clear he was sleeping. I glanced helplessly across the bed at Lauren.

“I’ll look into it,” she said. “Step out with me for a minute.”

I followed her, my gaze repeatedly turning back to Cary. When the door closed behind us, I said, “God, Lauren. He looks terrible.”

“He got knocked around good,” she said grimly. “He’s got a skull fracture, a nasty concussion, three cracked ribs, and a broken arm.”

The list of injuries was horribly painful to listen to. “I don’t understand why someone would do this.”

She pulled me close and pressed her lips to my forehead. “The doctor said it’s possible Cary will be allowed to leave in a day or two, so I’ll make arrangements for home care. I’ll also let your work know you won’t be coming in.”

“Cary’s agency needs to know.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you.” I hugged her hard. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re never going to find out.”

* * *

My mother woke me at nine the next morning, gliding fretfully into Cary’s room as soon as visiting hours began. She pulled me out to the hallway, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate area. It was early, but she looked amazing in eye-catching red-soled Louboutins and an ivory sleeveless sheath dress.

“Camila. I can’t believe you went the entire weekend without your cell phone! What were you thinking? What if there had been an emergency?”

“There was an emergency.”

“Exactly!” She threw up one hand, since the other arm had her clutch tucked beneath it. “No one could get hold of you or Lauren. She left a message saying that she was taking you away for the weekend, but no one knew where you were. I can’t believe she was so irresponsible! What was she thinking?”

“Thank you,” I interjectedes because she was getting wound up and repeating herself, “for taking care of Cary. It means a lot to me.”

“Well, of course.” My mother took it down a notch. “We love him, too, you know. I’m devastated this happened.”

Her lower lip trembled and she dug in her bag for her ever-ready handkerchief.

“Are the police investigating?” I asked.

“Yes, of course, but I don’t how much good it will do.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I love Cary dearly, but he’s a tramp. I doubt he can recall all the women and men he’s been with. Remember the charity auction you attended with Lauren? When I bought you that stunning red dress?”

“Yes.” I’d never forget it. It was the night Lauren and I first made love.

“I’m certain Cary slept with a blonde he danced with that night—while they were there! They disappeared and when they came back . . . Well, I know what a satisfied man looks like. I would be surprised if he knew her name.”

I remembered what Cary had said before he fell asleep. “You think this attack has something to do with someone he slept with?”

My mother blinked at me, seeming to remember that I didn’t know anything. “Cary was told to keep his hands off ‘her’—whoever ‘her’ is. The detectives will be coming back later today to try to pull some names out of him.”

“Jesus.” I scrubbed at my eyes, needing my face wash badly and a cup of coffee even more. “They need to talk to Tatiana Cherlin.”

“Who’s that?”

“Someone Cary’s been seeing. I think she’d get a kick out of something like this. Cary’s boyfriend caught them together and she ate it up with a spoon. She loved being the cause of the drama.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck, then realized the tingle I felt was for another reason entirely. I looked over my shoulder and saw Lauren approaching, her long legs closing the distance between us with that measured stride. Dressed for work in a suit, with a large cup of coffee in one hand and a small black bag in the other, she was exactly what I needed at just the moment I needed her.

“Excuse me.” I walked toward Lauren and straight into her arms.

“Hey,” she greeted me, with her lips in my hair. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s awful. And senseless.” My eyes burned. “He didn’t need another disaster in his life. He’s had more than his share.”

“So have you, and you’re suffering along with him.”

“And you’re doing the same with me.” I pushed up onto my tiptoes and kissed her jaw, then stepped back. “Thank you.”

She handed me the coffee. “I brought some things for you—a change of clothes, your cell and tablet, bathroom stuff.”

I knew her thoughtfulness had to come at a price—literally. After a weekend away, she should be digging her way out of a small mountain of work worth millions, not running around taking care of me. “God. I love you.”

“Camila!” My mother’s startled exclamation made me wince. She advocated withholding the words I love you until the wedding night.

“Sorry, Mom. Can’t help it.”

Lauren brushed coffee-warmed fingertips down my cheek.

“Lauren,” my mother began, coming up right beside us, “you should know better than to take Camila away without any means of calling for help. You do know better.”

She was clearly referring to my past. I wasn’t sure why she thought I was so delicate that I couldn’t function on my own. She was far more fragile.

I shot a sympathetic glance Lauren’s way.

She held out the bag she’d brought for me, the calm and confident look on her face conveying her total comfort in dealing with my mother. So I left her to it. I didn’t have it in me to deal with her until I’d caffeinated myself.

I slipped back into Cary’s room and found him awake. Just the sight of him made the tears well and my throat close up tight. He was such a strong and vibrant man, so full of life and mischief. It was the worst pain to see him looking so broken.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Quit the waterworks every time you see me. Makes me feel like I’m gonna die or something.”

Hell. He was right. My tears didn’t do him any good. Instead, what little relief they gave me just put more of the burden on him. I needed to be a better friend than that.

“I can’t help it,” I said, sniffling. “It sucks. Someone beat me to it and kicked your ass before I could.”

“Is that right?” His scowl faded. “What’d I do now?”

“You didn’t tell me about Brett and Six-Ninths.”

“Oh yeah . . .” A bit of his old sparkle came back into his eyes. “How’d he look?”

“Good. Really good.” Very hot, but I kept that thought to myself. “Although right now, he might not look much better than you.”

I told him about the kiss and the resulting fight.

“Jauregui threw down, huh?” Cary shook his head, then winced and stopped. “Taking on Brett took guts—he’s a barroom brawler who loves a good fight.”

“And Lauren is a trained mixed martial artist.” I began digging through the bag Lauren had brought. “Why didn’t you tell me Captive Soul had signed with a major label?”

“Because you didn’t need to fall into that hole again. There are girls who can date rock stars; you’re not one of them. All that time on the road, all those groupies . . . You’d drive yourself and him insane.”

I shot him a look. “I’m in total agreement with you. But I’m insulted that you’d think I’d run back to him just because he made it big.”

“That’s not why. I didn’t want you to hear their first single if it could be helped.”

“‘Golden’?”

“Yeah . . .” He studied me as I headed toward the bathroom. “What’d you think of it?”

“It’s better than a song titled ‘Tapped That.’”

“Ha!” He waited until I came out again with my face washed and hair brushed. “So . . . you kissed him.”

“That’s the beginning and end of that story,” I said dryly. “Have you talked to Trey since Friday?”

“No. They’ve got my phone somewhere. My wallet, too, I’m guessing. When I came to, I was here, wearing this”—he pinched at his hospital gown—“freakin’ thing.”

“I’ll get your stuff for you.” I dumped my toiletries back in the bag, then went to sit in the chair beside him with my coffee in hand. “Lauren’s making arrangements to get you home with a private nurse.”

“Ooh . . . that’s a fantasy of mine. Can you make sure the nurse is hot? And single?”

My brows rose. Inside, though, I was so relieved to see him looking and sounding more like himself. “You’re obviously feeling better, if you’re feeling frisky. How did things go with Trey?”

“Good.” He sighed. “I’d worried that the party wouldn’t be his scene. I forgot that he knew a lot of the people already.”

Cary and Trey had met at a photo shoot, with Cary modeling and Trey assisting the photographer behind the camera. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Yeah. He was totally set on not getting laid.”

“So you tried . . . after you said you wouldn’t.”

“This is me we’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes. “Hell yeah, I tried. He’s hot and great in bed—”

“—and in love with you.”

He released his pent-up breath in a rush, wincing as his chest expanded. “No one’s perfect.”

I had to bite back a laugh. “Cary Taylor. Loving you isn’t a character defect.”

“Well, it’s not very smart. I was such an asshole to him,” he muttered, looking disgruntled. “He could do so much better.”

“That isn’t your decision to make for him.”

“Someone needs to make it.”

“And you’re volunteering because you love him, too.” My mouth curved. “Don’t you think that sounds ass-backwards?”

“I don’t love him enough.” All traces of levity were wiped from his face, leaving behind the wounded and lonely man I knew all too well. “I can’t be faithful like he wants. Just him and me. I like women. Love them, actually. I’d be cutting off half of who I am. Just thinking about it makes me resent him.”

“You fought too hard to accept yourself,” I said softly, remembering that time with more than a little twinge of sadness. “I totally understand and don’t disagree, but have you tried talking to Trey about it?”

“Yes, I talked to him about it. He listened.” He rubbed his fingers over his brow. “I get it, I do. If he told me he wanted to bang some other guy while seeing me, it’d bother the fuck out of me.”

“But not if it were a woman?”

“No. I don’t know. Shit.” His bloodshot green eyes pleaded with me. “Would it make a difference to you if Jauregui were banging another man? Or just another woman?”

The door opened and Lauren walked in. I held her gaze when I said, “If Lauren’s dick touched anything but her hand or me, we’d be over.”

Her brows rose. “Well, then.”

I smiled sweetly and winked. “Hi, ace.”

“Angel.” She looked at Cary. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Cary’s lips twisted wryly. “Like I got hit by a bus . . . or a bat.”

“We’re working on getting you set up at home. It looks like we can make that happen by Wednesday.”

“Big tits, please,” Cary said. “Or bulging muscles. Either will do.”

Lauren looked at me.

I grinned. “The private nurse.”

“Ah.”

“If it’s a woman,” Cary went on, “can you get her to wear one of those white nurse dresses with the zipper down the front.”

“I can only imagine the media frenzy over that sexual-harassment lawsuit,” Lauren said dryly. “How about a collection of naughty-nurse porn instead?”

“Dude.” Cary smiled wide and looked, for a moment, like his old self. “You’re the man.”

Lauren looked at me. “Camila.”

I stood and bent over to kiss Cary on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

We stepped out of the room and I saw my mother in conversation with the doctor, who looked dazzled by her.

“I talked to Garrity this morning,” Lauren said, referring to Mark, my boss. “So don’t worry about that.”

I hadn’t been, because she said she’d handle it. “Thank you. I’ll need to go in tomorrow. I’m going to see if I can get hold of Trey, Cary’s boyfriend. Maybe he can stop in while I’m at work.”

“Let me know if you need any help with that.” Lauren glanced at her watch. “You’ll want to stay here again tonight?”

“Yes, if that’s possible. Until Cary comes home.”

She took my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine. “All right. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Charge your cell so I can reach you.”

I heard a faint buzzing. Lauren backed away and reached into an inner jacket pocket to withdraw her phone. She read the screen, then said, “I have to get this. I’ll talk to you later.”

Then she was gone, striding down the hallway as quickly as she’d arrived.

“She’s going to marry you,” my mother said, coming up to stand beside me. “You know that, don’t you?”

I didn’t, no. I still felt a little flare of gratitude every morning when I woke up and realized that we were still together. “What makes you say that?”

My mother looked at me with her baby blue eyes. It was one of the rare physical traits we didn’t share. “She’s completely taken you over and assumed control of everything.”

“That’s just her nature.”

“That’s the nature of all powerful women,” she said, reaching up to fuss with my no-nonsense ponytail. “And she’ll indulge you, because she’s making an investment in you. You’re an asset to her. You’re beautiful, well bred and well connected, and independently wealthy. You’re also in love with her and she can’t take her eyes off you. I bet she can’t keep her hands off you, either.”

“Mother, please.” I was so not in the mood for one of her lectures on the fine points of catching and marrying a rich man.

“Camila Cabello,” she scolded, facing me directly. “I don’t care if you listen to me because I’m your mother and you have to—or because you love her and don’t want to lose her, but you will listen.”

“Like I have a choice,” I muttered.

“You’re an asset now,” she repeated. “See that your life choices don’t make you a liability.”

“Are you talking about Cary?” Anger sharpened my voice.

“I’m talking about the bruise on Lauren’s jaw! Tell me that has nothing to do with you.”

I flushed.

She tsked. “I knew it. Yes, she’s your lover and you see an intimate side to her that few see, but don’t ever forget that she’s also Lauren Jauregui. You’ve got everything you need to be the perfect wife for a person of her stature, but you’re still replaceable, Camila. What she’s built is not. You jeopardize her empire and she’ll leave you.”

My jaw tightened. “Are you done?”

She ran her fingertips over my brows, her gaze shrewd and assessing. I knew she was giving me a mini-makeover in her mind, thinking of ways to improve what she’d given me from birth. “You think I’m a coldhearted gold digger, but my concern is maternal, believe it or not. I want very desperately for you to be with a person who has the money and wherewithal to guard you with everything they have, so I’ll know you’re safe. And I want you to be with a person you love.”

“I’ve found her.”

“And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. I’m thrilled she’s young and still open to taking risks, so she’s more forgiving and understanding of your . . . quirks. And she knows,” she whispered, her gaze softening and growing liquid. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m trying to say. Don’t give her any reason to turn away from you.”

“If she did, that wouldn’t be love.”

Her lips curved wryly and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Come now. You’re my daughter. You can’t be that naïve.”

“Camila!”

I turned at the sound of my name and felt a rush of relief to see Trey hurrying toward me. He was of average height and nicely muscular, with unruly blond hair, hazel eyes, and a slight angle to his nose that told me it’d been broken at some point. He was dressed in faded, frayed jeans and a T-shirt, and I was struck by the fact that he wasn’t Cary’s usual flashy type. For once, it seemed, the attraction had been more than skin deep.

“I just found out,” he said when he reached me. “Detectives came by my work this morning and questioned me. I can’t believe this happened Friday night and I’m only just finding out about it.”

I couldn’t hold his slightly accusatory tone against him. “I just found out early this morning myself. I was out of town.”

After a quick introduction between my mother and Trey, she excused herself to go sit with Cary, leaving me to elaborate on the information Trey had gleaned from the detectives.

Trey shoved his hands through his hair, making it look even messier. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d taken him with me when I left.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Who else do I blame for the fact that he’s screwing around with another guy’s girl?” He gripped the back of his neck. “I’m the one who’s not enough for him. He’s got the drive of a hormonal teenager and I’m working or in school all the damn time.”

Ugh. Total TMI. It was a struggle not to wince. But I understood that Trey likely didn’t have anyone else he felt comfortable discussing Cary with.

“He’s bisexual, Trey,” I said softly, reaching out to run a comforting hand down his biceps. “That doesn’t mean you’re lacking.”

“I don’t know how to live with this.”

“Would you consider counseling? With both of you, I mean.”

He looked at me with haunted eyes for a long minute; then his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I think I have to decide if I can live with him cheating. Could you do it, Camila? Could you sit at home waiting for your lover, knowing they were sticking it somewhere else?”

“No.” An icy shiver coursed through me at the mere words. “No, I couldn’t.”

“And I don’t even know if Cary would agree to counseling. He keeps pushing me away. He wants me, and then he doesn’t. He’s committed, and then he isn’t. I want in, Camila, like he’s let you in, but he keeps shutting me out.”

“It took me a long time to break through to him. He tried pushing me away with sex, always coming on to me, taunting me. I think you made the right decision keeping it platonic on Friday. Cary puts his value on his looks and sex appeal. You need to show him that it’s not just his body you want.”

Trey sighed and crossed his arms. “Is that how you two got close? Because you wouldn’t sleep with him?”

“Partly. Mostly it’s because I’m a mess. It’s not as obvious now as it was when we met, but he knows I’m not perfect.”

“Neither am I! Who is?”

“He believes you’re better than he is, that you deserve better.” I grinned. “Me . . . well, I bet part of him thinks I deserve him. That we deserve each other.”

“Crazy fucker,” he muttered.

“He is that,” I agreed. “That’s why we love him, isn’t it? Do you want to go in and see him? Or do you want to go home and think about it?”

“No, I want to see him.” Trey’s shoulders rolled back and his chin lifted. “I don’t care what put him here. I want to be with him while he’s going through this.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” I linked my arm with his and led him to Cary’s room.

We entered to the sound of my mother’s trilling, girlish laughter. She sat on the edge of the bed, with Cary smiling adoringly at her. She was as much a mother to him as she was to me, and he loved her so much for that. His own mother had hated him, abused him, and allowed others to abuse him.

He looked over and saw us, and the emotions that swept across his face in that moment caused a tightness in my chest. I heard Trey’s breath catch as he got his first sight of Cary’s condition. I kicked myself for not telling him in advance not to make the mistake of getting weepy like I had.

Trey cleared his throat. “Drama queen,” he said with gruff affection. “If you wanted flowers, you should’ve just asked for them. This is extreme.”

“And ineffective, apparently,” Cary rejoined hoarsely, clearly trying to pull himself together. “I don’t see any flowers.”

“I see a ton.” Trey’s gaze did a brief slide across the room, then went back to Cary. “Just wanted to see what I was up against, so I could beat out my competition.”

There was no way to miss the double meaning in that statement.

My mom rose from the bed. She leaned over and kissed Cary’s cheek. “I’ll take Camila out to breakfast. We’ll see you in about an hour or so.”

“Gimme a sec,” I said, passing the bed quickly, “and I’ll get out of your hair, guys.”

I grabbed my phone and charger out of my bag and plugged it into an outlet by the window.

As soon as the screen flickered to life, I sent a quick group text message to Shawna and my dad, saying simply: I’ll call later. Then I made sure my phone was silenced and left it on the window ledge.

“Ready?” my mom asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

#camren #camren fanfiction #camren smut #camren shipper #camren gip #lauren jauregui #lauren and camila #laurengip #camila cabello #camila and lauren #crossfire

Chapter 11

I reclined with my eyes closed, my back cradled against Lauren’s chest, listening to the sound of lapping water as her hands glided lazily over me in the claw-foot tub.

She’d washed my hair and then my body, pampering me, spoiling me. I knew she was making up for last night and the method she’d used to get me to face the truth—a truth she’d clearly known but needed me to see as well.

How did she know me so well . . . better than I knew myself?

“Tell me about him,” she murmured, her arms wrapping around my waist.

I took a deep breath. I’d been waiting for her to ask about Brett. I knew Lauren well, too. “First, tell me if he’s okay.”

There was a pause before she answered. “There’s no permanent damage. Would you care if there was?”

“Of course I’d care.” I heard her teeth grind.

“I want to know about you two,” she demanded tightly.

“No.”

“Camila . . .”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Lauren. I’m tired of being an open book for you while you hoard all your secrets.” My head rolled to the side so that my cheek was pressed against her damp chest. “If all I get of you is your body, I’ll take it. But I can’t give you more in return.”

“You mean you won’t. Let’s be—”

“I can’t.” I pulled away from her, twisting so that I faced her. “Look what it’s doing to me! I hurt you last night. On purpose. Without even realizing it, because the resentment is eating at me even while I’m convincing myself that I can live with everything you’re not telling me.”

Sitting up, she spread her arms. “I’m wide open for you, Camila! You’re making it sound like you don’t know me . . . that all we have is sex . . . when you know me better than anyone else.”

“Let’s talk about what I don’t know. Why do you own so much of Vidal Records? Why do you hate your family home? Why are you estranged from your parents? What’s between you and Dr. Terrence Lucas? Where’d you go the other night when I had that nightmare? What’s behind your nightmares? Why—”

“Enough!” she snapped, shoving her hands through her wet hair.

I settled back, watching and waiting as she clearly struggled with herself. “You should know you can tell me anything,” I said softly.

“Can I?” she pierced me with her gaze. “Don’t you have enough to look past as it is? How much shit can I pile on you before you run like hell?”

Laying my arms along the rim of the tub, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Okay, then. We’ll just be fuck buddies who bitch to a therapist once a week. Good to know.”

“I screwed her,” she spat. “There. Do you feel better?”

I shot up so fast, water surged over the edge of the tub. My stomach cramped. “You screwed Corinne?”

“No, damn it.” Her face was flushed. “Lucas’s wife.”

“Oh . . .” I remembered the photo I’d found of her through my Google search. “She’s a redhead,” I said lamely.

“My attraction to Anne was based entirely on her relationship to Lucas.”

I frowned, confused. “So things were off between you and Dr. Lucas before you slept with his wife? Or because of it?”

Lauren set her elbow on the side of the tub and scrubbed at her face. “He alienated me from my family. I returned the favor.”

“You broke them up?”

“I broke her.” She exhaled harshly. “She came on to me at a fund-raiser. I brushed her off until I learned who she was. I knew it’d kill Lucas to know I’d banged her, and the opening was there so I took it. It was just supposed to be that once, but Anne contacted me the next day. Because it would hurt him more to know she couldn’t get enough, I let it go on. When she was ready to leave him for me, I sent her back to her husband.”

I stared at her, noting her defiant embarrassment. She would do it again, but she was ashamed of what she’d done.

“Say something!” she snapped.

“Did she think you loved her?”

“No. Fuck. I’m an asshole for nailing another man’s wife, but I didn’t promise her anything. I was screwing Lucas through her—I didn’t expect for her to become collateral damage. I wouldn’t have let it get that far, if I had.”

“Lauren.” I sighed and shook my head.

“What?” She was practically bristling with restless, anxious energy. “Why did you say my name like that?”

“Because you’re ridiculously dense for such a smart girl. You were sleeping with her regularly and didn’t expect her to fall in love with you?”

“Jesus.” Her head fell back with a groan. “Not this again.”

Then she straightened abruptly. “Actually, you know what? You keep on thinking I’m God’s gift to women, angel. It’s better for me if you believe I’m the best you can get.”

I splashed her. The ease with which she dismissed her appeal was another way she mirrored me. We knew our strengths and played up our assets. But we couldn’t see what made us unique enough for someone to really love us.

Lauren lunged forward and caught my hands. “Now, tell me what the fuck you had with Brett Kline.”

“You didn’t tell me what Dr. Lucas did to piss you off.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Not the details,” I argued.

“It’s your turn to spill. Out with it.”

It took me a long time to get the words out. No woman wanted a recovering slut for their girlfriend. But Lauren waited patiently. Obstinately. I knew she wasn’t going to let me get out of the tub until I told her about Brett.

“I was nothing but a convenient fuck for Brett,” I confessed in a rush, wanting to get it over with, “and I put up with it—went out of my way for it—because in that period of my life, sex was the only way I knew how to feel loved.”

“He wrote a love song about you, Camila.”

I looked away. “The truth wouldn’t make much of a ballad, would it?”

“Did you love him?”

“I— No.” I looked at Lauren when she exhaled audibly, as if she’d been holding her breath. “I had a crush on him and the way he sings, but it was totally superficial. I never got to really know him.”

Her entire body visibly relaxed. “He was part of a . . . phase? That’s it?”

I nodded and tried to pull my hands free of hers, wishing I could get past my feelings of shame. I didn’t blame Brett or any of the guys who’d drifted through my life then. I had no one to blame but myself.

“Come here.” Lauren caught me by the waist and pulled me closer, tucking me against her chest again. Her embrace was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Her hands stroked the length of my spine, gentling me. “I won’t lie. I want to beat the hell out of any man who’s had you—you’d be smart to keep them the hell away from me—but nothing in your past can change how I feel about you. And God knows I’m no saint.”

“I wish I could make it go away,” I whispered. “I don’t like remembering the girl I was then.”

She rested her chin atop the crown of my head. “I get it. It didn’t matter how long I showered after I’d been with Anne, it was never long enough to feel clean.”

I tightened my arms around her waist, giving comfort and acceptance. And gratefully accepting both in return.

* * *

The white silk robe I found hanging in the closet was gorgeous. It was lined with the softest terrycloth and embroidered with silver thread at the cuffs. I loved it, which was a good thing since it was, apparently, the only article of clothing for me in the entire house.

I watched Lauren pull on a pair of black silk pajama pants and tie the drawstring. “Why do you get clothes and I get a robe?”

She glanced up at me through a lock of inky hair that draped over her brow. “Because I’m the one who arranged everything?”

“Fiend.”

“Just makes it easier for me to keep up with your insatiable sexual demands.”

“My insatiable demands?” I headed into the bathroom to take the towel off my head. “I clearly remember begging to be left alone last night. Or was it this morning, after an all-nighter?”

She filled the doorway behind me. “You’ll be begging again tonight, too. I’ll go make some coffee.”

In the mirror, I watched her turn away and saw the darkening bruise on her side. It was low on her back, where I hadn’t had a chance to see it before. I spun around. “Lauren! You’re hurt. Let me see.”

“I’m fine.” She was partway down the stairs before I could stop her. “Don’t take too long.”

Guilt swamped me, and a terrible urge to cry. My hand shook as I ran a wide-toothed comb through my damp hair. The bathroom had been stocked with my usual toiletries, demonstrating once again how thoughtful and attentive Lauren was, which only emphasized my deficits. I was making her life hell. After all she’d already suffered, my issues were the last thing she needed to deal with.

I took the stairs down to the first floor and found myself unable to join Lauren in the kitchen. I needed a minute to pull myself together and put on a happy face. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend for her, too.

I stepped out through the French doors that led to the deck. The roar of the surf and the biting salt spray hit me at once. The hem of my robe whipped gently in the ocean breeze, cooling me in a way I found invigorating.

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the railing and closed my eyes, trying to find the peace I needed to keep Lauren from worrying. My problem was me, and I didn’t want to concern her with something she couldn’t change. Only I could make myself a stronger person, and I needed to, if I wanted to make her happy and offer her the security she so desperately wanted from me.

The door opened behind me, and I took a deep breath before turning to face her with a smile. Lauren came out with two steaming mugs gripped in one hand—one filled with black coffee and the other lightened with half-and-half. I knew it would be made perfectly to my tastes and delicious, because Lauren knew exactly what I liked. Not because I’d told her, but because she paid attention to everything about me.

“Stop beating yourself up,” she ordered sternly, setting the mugs on the railing.

I sighed. Of course I couldn’t hide my mood from her with just a smile. She saw right through me.

She caught my face in her hands and glared down at me. “It’s over and done with. Forget it.”

I reached out and ran my fingertips over the place where I’d seen the bruise.

“It needed to happen,” she said curtly. “No. Shut up and listen to me. I thought I understood your feelings about Corinne, and, frankly, I thought you just weren’t dealing with it well. But I had no clue. I was a self-centered idiot.”

“I’m not dealing with it well. I hate her fucking guts. I can’t think about her without feeling violent.”

“I get it now. I didn’t before.” Her mouth twisted ruefully. “Sometimes it takes something drastic to shake me up. Luckily, you’ve always been very good at getting my attention.”

“Don’t try to tease this away, Lauren. You could’ve been seriously hurt because of me.”

She caught me by the waist when I would’ve turned away. “I was seriously hurt because of you. Seeing you in another guy’s arms, kissing him . . .” Her eyes grew hot and dark. “It shredded me, Camila. Cut me open and left me bleeding. I kicked his ass in self-defense.”

“Oh, God,” I breathed, devastated by her brutal honesty. “Lauren.”

“I’m disgusted with myself for not being more understanding about Corinne. If a kiss could make me feel like that . . .” She wrapped her arms tight around me, one arm banding my hips while the other crossed my back so she could grip the back of my head. Capturing me.

“If you ever cheated on me,” she said hoarsely, “it would kill me.”

Turning my head, I pressed my lips to her throat. “That stupid kiss meant nothing. Less than nothing.”

Her hand gripped my hair and tilted my head back. “You don’t understand what your kisses mean to me, Camila. For you to just give one away and call it stupid—”

Lauren dipped her head and sealed her mouth over mine. It started softly, sweet and teasing, her tongue stroking across my bottom lip. I opened my mouth, my tongue flicking out to touch her. she tilted her head and licked into my mouth. Fast, shallow licks that stirred a simmering desire.

I reached up and slid my fingers into her damp hair, pushing up onto my tiptoes to deepen the kiss. I moaned when she sucked on my tongue, leaning heavily against her. Her lips moved against mine, growing wetter and hotter. We ate at each other, growing wilder by the second until we were fucking each other’s mouths, passionately mating with lips and tongues and tiny bites. I was panting with my hunger for her, my lips slanting over her, needy sounds spilling from my throat.

Her kisses were gifts. She kissed with everything she had, with power and passion and hunger and love. she held nothing back, giving everything, exposing everything.

Tension gripped her powerful frame, her rough satin skin growing feverishly hot. Her tongue was plunging into my mouth, tangling with mine, her quickened breaths mingling with my own and filling my lungs. My senses were drenched in her, in her flavor and scent, my mind spinning as I angled my head, seeking a deeper taste. Wanting to lick deeper, suck harder. Devour.

I wanted her so much.

Her hands ran up and down my spine, trembling and restless. She groaned and my sex tightened in answer. Tugging at the belt of my robe, she loosened it, spreading open the halves to grip my bare hips in her hands. She tugged on my lower lip, sinking her teeth into it, her tongue caressing it. I whimpered, wanting more, my mouth feeling swollen and sensitive.

No matter how close we were, it was never close enough.

Lauren gripped both cheeks of my ass and pulled me up hard against her, her erection like hot steel burning my belly through the thin silk of her pants. She released my lip and took my mouth again, filling me with the taste of her desire and need, her tongue a velvet lash of tormenting pleasure.

A hard shudder shook her and she growled, her hips circling. Her fingers bit into my rear and her groan vibrated against my lips. I felt her cock jerk between us, then scorching warmth spread over my skin. She came with a tormented groan, soaking the silk between us.

I cried out, melting and aching, so insanely aroused by the knowledge that I could make her lose control with just a kiss.

Her grip loosened, her lungs heaving. “Your kisses are mine.”

“Yes. Lauren . . .” I was shaken, left emotionally raw and open by the most erotic moment of my life.

She sank to her knees and tongued me to a shattering climax.

* * *

We showered and napped the morning away. It felt so good to sleep beside her again, with my head pillowed on her chest, my arm draped over her rock-hard stomach, and my legs tangled with hers.

When we woke shortly after one in the afternoon, I was starving. We headed down to the kitchen together and I found that I liked the ultra-stark modern look in that space. The watered-glass cabinet doors and granite paired beautifully with the dark hardwood. Better yet, the pantry was fully stocked. There was no need to leave the house for anything.

We went the easy route and made sandwiches, which we took into the living room and ate cross-legged on the couch facing each other.

I was halfway through when I caught Lauren watching me with a grin.

“What?” I asked, around a bite.

“Arnoldo’s right. It’s fun watching you eat.”

“Shut up.”

Her grin widened. She looked so carefree and happy it made my heart hurt.

“How did you find this place?” I asked her. “Or how did Scott find it?”

“I found it.” She shoved a potato chip in her mouth and licked the salt from her lips, which I found sexy as hell. “I wanted to take you away to an island, where no one could bother us. This is pretty close to that, without the travel time. I planned for us to fly down originally.”

I ate thoughtfully, remembering the long drive. As insanity-inducing as the trip had been, there was something exciting about the idea of her rearranging our schedule just to fuck me senseless over hours, using my need for her to face a truth I’d blocked. Imagining all the frustration and fury that must have driven her plans . . . her thoughts focused on unleashing all of that seething passion on my helpless, willing body . . .

“You’re getting that fuck-me look on your face,” she observed. “And you call me a sex fiend.”

“Sorry.”

“Not complaining.”

I rewound my thoughts to earlier in the evening. “Arnoldo doesn’t like me anymore.”

One dark brow arched. “You’re getting the fuck-me look and thinking about Arnoldo? Do I have to kick his ass now, too?”

“No. Jeez. I threw that out there to distract us from sex and because it needs to be addressed.”

She shrugged. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I think I should do it, for what it’s worth.”

Lauren studied me with those amazing blue eyes. “What would you say?”

“That he’s right. I don’t deserve you and I fucked up bad. But I’m crazy in love with you and I’d like a chance to prove to you both that I can be what you need.”

“Angel, if I needed you more, I couldn’t function.” She lifted my hand to her lips to kiss my fingertips. “And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. We’ve got our own rhythm and it works for us.”

“Does it work for you?” I grabbed my bottle of iced tea off the coffee table and took a drink. “I know it drains you. Do you ever think it’s just too hard or too painful?”

“You do realize how suggestive that sounds, right?”

“Oh my God.” I laughed. “You’re terrible.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “That’s not what you usually say.”

Shaking my head, I went back to eating.

“I’d rather argue with you, angel, than laugh with anyone else.”

Jesus. It took me a minute to be able to swallow the last bite in my mouth. “You know . . . I love you madly.”

She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

* * *

After we’d cleaned up the mess from lunch, I tossed the sponge into the sink and said, “I need to make my Saturday phone call to my dad.”

Lauren shook her head. “Not possible. You’ll have to wait ’til Monday.”

“Huh? Why?”

She caged me to the counter by gripping the edge on either side of me. “No phones.”

“Are you serious? What about your cell phone?” I’d left mine at home before we went to the concert, knowing I had no place to carry it and having no intention of using it anyway.

“It’s heading back to New York with the limo. No Internet, either. I had the modem and phones taken out before we got here.”

I was speechless. With all the responsibilities and commitments she had, cutting herself off for the weekend was . . . unbelievable. “Wow. When’s the last time you fell off the face of the earth like this?”

“Hmm . . . that would be never.”

“There have to be at least a half dozen people freaking out because they can’t run something by you.”

She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “They’ll deal with it.”

Pleasure surged through me. “I have you all to myself?”

“Completely.” Her mouth curved in a wicked smile. “What will you do with me, angel?”

I smiled back, ecstatically happy. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

* * *

We went for a walk on the beach.

I rolled up a pair of Lauren’s pajama bottoms and put on my white tank top, which was indecent since my bra was heading back to New York along with Lauren’s cell phone.

“I have died and gone to heaven,” she pronounced, checking out my chest as we strolled along the shore, “where the embodiment of every wet-dream, spank-bank fantasy of my adolescence is real and totally mine.”

I bumped my shoulder into hers. “How do you go from devastatingly romantic to crude in the space of an hour?”

“It’s another one of my many talents.” Her gaze dropped again to the prominent points of my nipples, which were hard from exposure to the ocean breeze. She squeezed my hand and gave an exaggerated happy sigh. “Heaven with my angel. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

I had to agree. The beach was beautiful in a moody, untamed way that reminded me a lot of the woman whose hand I held. The sounds of the surf and the crying of the gulls filled me with a unique sense of contentment. The water was cold on my bare feet, and the wind whipped my hair across my face. It had been a long time since I’d felt so good, and I was grateful to Lauren for giving us this time away to enjoy each other. We were perfect together when we were alone.

“You like it here,” she noted.

“I’ve always loved being close to the water. My mother’s second husband had a lake house. I remember walking along the shore like this with her and thinking I’d buy something on the water for myself one day.”

She released my hand and draped her arm around my shoulders instead. “So let’s do it. How about this place? You like it?”

I glanced up at her, loving the sight of the wind sifting through her hair. “Is it for sale?”

She looked down the stretch of beach in front of us. “Everything’s for sale at the right price.”

“Do you like it?”

“The interior’s a little cold with all that white, although I like the master bedroom the way it is. We could change all the rest. Make it more us.”

“Us,” I repeated, wondering what that would be. I loved her apartment with its old world elegance. I think she felt comfortable at my place, which was more modern traditional. Combining the two . . . “Big step, buying a property together.”

“Inevitable step,” she corrected. “You told Dr. Petersen failure isn’t an option.”

“Yep, I did.” We walked a little farther in silence. I tried to figure out how I felt about Lauren wanting to have a more tangible tie between us. I also wondered why she’d choose joint property ownership as the way to achieve it. “So I take it you like it here, too?”

“I like the beach.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “There’s a picture of me and my father building a sand castle on a beach.”

It was a miracle my steps didn’t falter. Lauren volunteered so little information about her past that when she did, it was nearly an earthshaking event. “I’d like to see it.”

“My mother has it.” We took a few more steps before she said, “I’ll get it for you.”

“I’ll go with you.” She hadn’t told me why yet, but she’d told me once that the Vidal home was a nightmare for her. I suspected that whatever was at the root of her parasomnia had taken place there.

Lauren’s chest expanded on a deep breath. “I can have it couriered.”

“All right.” I turned my head to kiss her bruised knuckles where they rested on my shoulder. “But my offer stands.”

“What did you think of my mother?” she asked suddenly.

“She’s very beautiful. Very elegant. She seemed gracious.” I studied her, seeing Elizabeth Vidal’s inky black hair and stunning blue eyes. “She also seems to love you a lot. It was in her eyes when she looked at you.”

She kept looking straight ahead. “She didn’t love me enough.”

My breath left me in a rush. Because I didn’t know what had given her such tormenting nightmares, I’d wondered if maybe she’d loved her too much. It was a relief to know that wasn’t the case. It was awful enough that her father committed suicide. To be betrayed by her mother, too, might be more than she could ever recover from.

“How much is enough, Lauren?”

Her jaw tightened. Her chest expanded on a deep breath. “She didn’t believe me.”

I came to a dead stop and pivoted to face her. “You told her what happened to you? You told her and she didn’t believe you?”

Her gaze was trained over my head. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s long done.”

“Bullshit. It matters. It matters a lot.” I was furious for her. Furious that a mother hadn’t done her job and stood by her child. Furious that the child had been Lauren. “I bet it hurts like fucking hell, too.”

Her gaze lowered to my face. “Look at you, so pissed off and upset. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You should’ve said something earlier.”

The tension in her shoulders eased and her mouth curved ruefully. “I haven’t told you anything.”

“Lauren—”

“And of course you believe me, angel. You’ve had to sleep in a bed with me.”

I grabbed her face in my hands and stared hard up into her eyes. “I. Believe. You.”

Her face contorted with pain for a split second before she picked me up in a bear hug. “Camila.”

I slung my legs around her waist and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “I believe you.”

* * *

When we got back to the house, Lauren went into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine and I perused the bookshelves in the living room, smiling when I came across the first book in the series I’d told her about, the one where’d I’d picked up her nickname, ace.

We sprawled on the couch and I read to her while she played absently with my hair. She was in a pensive mood after our walk, her mind seemingly far from me. I didn’t resent that. We’d given each other a lot to think about over the last couple of days.

When the tide came in, it did indeed rush up under the house, which sounded amazing and looked even more so. We stepped out onto the deck and watched it ebb and flow, turning the house into an island in the surf.

“Let’s make s’mores,” I said, while leaning over the railing with Lauren wrapped around my back. “On that portable patio fireplace.”

Her teeth caught my earlobe and she whispered, “I want to lick melted chocolate off your body.”

Yes, please . . . I teased her, “Wouldn’t that burn?”

“Not if I do it right.”

I turned to face her, and she picked me up and sat me on the wide handrail. Then she stepped between my legs and hugged me around the hips. There was a wonderful peace that accompanied the twilight and we both sank into it. I ran my hands through her hair, just as the night breeze did.

“Have you talked to Ireland at all?” I asked, thinking of her half sister who was as beautiful as their mother. I’d met her at a Vidal Records party, and it became evident pretty quickly that she was hungry for any word or news about her eldest sister.

“No.”

“What do you think about bringing her over for dinner when my dad’s in town?”

Lauren’s head tilted to the side as she observed me. “You want to invite a seventeen-year-old to dinner with me and your dad.”

“No, I want your family to meet my family.”

“She’ll be bored.”

“How would you know?” I challenged. “In any case, I think your sister hero-worships you. As long as you pay attention to her, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Camila.” She sighed, clearly exasperated. “Be real. I haven’t the slightest idea how to entertain a teenage girl.”

“Ireland’s not some random kid, she’s—”

“She might as well be!” She scowled at me.

It struck me then. “You’re afraid of her.”

“Come on,” she scoffed.

“You are. She scares you.” And I doubted it had anything to do with her sister’s age or that she was a girl.

“What’s gotten into you?” she complained. “You’re stuck on Ireland. Leave her alone.”

“She’s the only family you’ve got, Lauren.” And I was willing to support that choice. Her half-brother Christopher was an asshole, and her mother didn’t deserve to have her in her life.

“I have you!”

“Baby.” I sighed and wrapped my legs around her. “Yes, you’ve got me. But there’s room for more people who love you in your life.”

“She doesn’t love me,” she muttered. “She doesn’t know me.”

“I think you’re wrong about that, but if not, she’d love you if she knew you. So let her know you.”

“Enough. Let’s go back to talking about s’mores.”

I tried to stare her down, but it was impossible. When she considered a subject exhausted, there was no continuing it. So I’d have to go around it instead.

“You wanna talk about s’mores, ace?” I traced my lower lip with my tongue. “All that melty gooey chocolate on our fingers.”

Lauren’s gaze narrowed.

I ran my splayed fingers over his shoulders and down his chest. “I could be persuaded to let you smear that chocolate all over me. I could also be persuaded to smear some all over you.”

Her brow arched. “Are you trying to bribe me with sex again?”

“Did I say that?” I blinked innocently. “I don’t think I said that.”

“It was implied. So let’s be clear.” Her voice was dangerously low, her eyes dark as her hand slid up under the hem of my tank top and cupped my bare breast. “I’ll invite Ireland to dinner with your father because it’ll make you happy and that makes me happy.”

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly, because she’d begun to tug rhythmically on my nipple, making me whimper in delight.

“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want with melted chocolate and your body because it’ll please me and that will please you. I say when, I say how. Repeat that.”

“You say—” I gasped as her mouth wrapped around my other nipple through the ribbed cotton. “Oh, God.”

She nipped me with her teeth. “Finish.”

My entire body tightened, so quick to respond to that authoritative tone. “You say when. You say how.”

“There are things you can bargain with, angel, but your body and sex aren’t negotiable.”

My hands clutched her hair, an instinctive response to her relentless, delicious milking of my sensitive nipple. I gave up trying to understand why I wanted her in control. I just did. “What else can I bargain with? You have everything.”

“Your time and attention are the two things you can leverage. I’ll do anything for them.”

A shiver moved through me. “I’m wet for you,” I whispered.

Lauren stepped away from the railing, carrying me with her. “Because that’s how I want you.”

#camren gip #camila and lauren #lauren and camila #camren fanfiction #camren shipper #camren smut #camrengip #laurengip

chapter 10

I stumbled back from the impact, nearly falling. The two hit the asphalt with a sickening thud. Someone yelled. A woman screamed. I could do nothing. I stood frozen and silent, emotions twisting through me in a frenzied tangle.

Lauren pinned Brett by the throat and pummeled his ribs with a relentless series of blows. She was like a machine, silent and unstoppable. Brett grunted with each brutal impact and struggled to break free.

“Jauregui! Dio mio.”

I wept when Arnoldo appeared. He leaped forward, reaching for Lauren, only to scramble back as Brett wrenched to the side and the two rolled.

Brett’s bandmates pushed in through the growing crowd around the front of the buses, prepared to brawl . . . until they saw who Brett was fighting with—the woman with the money behind their record label.

“Kline, you fuckhead!” Darrin, the drummer, gripped his own hair in both fists. “What the hell are you doing?”

Brett broke free, lurched to his feet, and tackled Lauren into the side of a bus. Lauren linked her hands and hammered Brett’s back like a club, forcing Brett to lurch away. Pressing the advantage, Lauren lashed out with a roundhouse kick and followed with a lightning-quick jab to the gut. Brett swung, his powerful biceps bunching with his fist, but Lauren ducked fluidly and retaliated with an uppercut that snapped Brett’s head back.

Jesus.

Lauren didn’t make a sound, not when she struck out and not when Brett landed a direct hit to her jaw. The quiet intensity of her fury was chilling. I could feel the rage pumping off her, saw it in her eyes, but she remained controlled and eerily methodical. She’d disconnected in some way, retreated to a place where she could objectively observe her body doing serious damage to someone else.

I’d caused that. I had turned the warm, wickedly playful woman who’d enchanted me all evening into the cold, murderous fighter in front of me.

“Miss Cabello.” Angus grabbed my elbow.

I looked at him desperately. “You have to stop her.”

“Please, return to the limousine.”

“What?” I looked over and saw blood dripping from Brett’s nose. No one was intervening. “Are you crazy?”

“We need to take Miss Ellison home. She’s your guest; you need to see to her.”

Brett swung and when Lauren feinted to the side, Brett rammed his other fist forward, nailing Lauren in the shoulder and sending her backward a few steps.

I grabbed Angus by the arms. “What’s the matter with you?! Stop them!”

His pale blue eyes softened. “She knows when to stop, Camila.”

“Are you shitting me?!”

He looked over my shoulder. “Mr. Ricci, if you would, please.”

The next thing I knew, I was slung over Arnoldo’s shoulder and en route to the limo. Lifting my head, I saw the circle of bystanders close in with my absence, blocking my view. I screamed my frustration and pounded at Arnoldo’s back, but it didn’t faze him. He climbed right into the back of the limo with me, and when Shawna hopped in a moment later, Angus shut the door as if everything was totally fucking normal.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped at Arnoldo, scrambling for the door handle as the limo rolled smoothly into motion. It wouldn’t open and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to unlock. “She’s your friend! You’re just going to leave her like that?”

“She’s your Girlfriend.” The calm neutrality in Arnoldo’s voice cut me deep. “And you are the one who left her like that.”

I slumped back into the seat, my stomach churning and my palms damp. Lauren . . .

“You’re the Camila in the song ‘Golden,’ aren’t you?” Shawna asked quietly, from her position on the opposite bench seat.

Arnoldo started, obviously surprised by the connection. “I wonder if Lauren—” He sighed. “Of course she knows.”

“That was a long time ago!” I said defensively.

“Not long enough, apparently,” he pointed out.

Desperate to get to Lauren, I couldn’t sit still. My feet tapped, my body battling against restlessness so intense I felt like crawling out of my skin.

I’d hurt the woman I loved and through her, another man who’d done nothing more than be himself. And I had no good explanation for it. Looking back, I had no idea what had come over me. Why hadn’t I pulled away sooner? Why had I kissed Brett back?

And what was Lauren going to do about it?

The thought that she might break up with me triggered overwhelming panic. I was sick with worry. Was she hurt? God . . . the thought of Lauren in pain ate at me like acid. Was she in trouble? She’d assaulted Brett. My palms went damp when I remembered Cary’s news that his clusterfuck buddy also wanted to press assault charges.

Lauren’s life was spiraling out of control—because of me. At some point she was going to realize I wasn’t worth the trouble.

I glanced at Shawna. She was looking out the window pensively. I’d blown her awesome night. And Arnoldo’s, too. “I’m sorry.” I sighed miserably. “I screwed up everything.”

She looked at me and shrugged, then offered a sympathetic smile that made my throat burn. “No big. I had a great time. I hope you work things out for the best.”

The best thing for me was Lauren. Had I blown that? Had I thrown away the most important thing in my life over some weird, inexplicable head trip?

I still felt Brett’s mouth on mine. I scrubbed at my lips, wishing I could erase the last half hour of my life as easily.

My anxiety made it feel like it took an eternity to drive Shawna home. I got out and gave her a hug on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, for both earlier and then, because I was dying to get to Lauren—wherever she was—and I was afraid my impatience showed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive Angus or Arnoldo for taking me away when and how they did.

Arnoldo hugged Shawna and told her that she and Doug had a standing reservation for Tableau One anytime. I softened a little toward him. He’d taken good care of her all night.

We climbed back into the limo and set off for the restaurant. I curled into a darkened corner of the seat and cried silently, unable to contain the flood of despair overwhelming me. When we arrived at the restaurant, I used my tank top to dry my face. Arnoldo stopped me from getting out.

“Be gentle with her,” he scolded, staring hard at my face. “I have never seen her the way she is with you. I can’t say you are worthy of her, but you can make her happy. I saw that myself. Do it or walk. Don’t fuck with her head.”

I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I nodded, hoping he could see in my eyes how much Lauren meant to me. Everything.

Arnoldo disappeared into the restaurant. Before Angus shut the door, I slid forward on the seat. “Where is she? I need to see her. Please.”

“She called.” Angus’s face was kind, which made me start crying again. “I’m taking you to her now.”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know.”

I pushed back into the seat, feeling physically ill. I barely paid attention to where we were headed, my only thought being that I needed to explain. I needed to tell Lauren that I loved her, that I’d never leave her if she’d still have me, that she was the only one I wanted, the only person who set my blood on fire.

Eventually, the car slowed and I looked out, realizing we’d returned to the amphitheater. As I peered out the window, searching for her, the door behind me opened, startling me, and I shifted around to see Lauren duck inside and settle on the opposite bench from me.

I lurched toward her. “Lauren—”

“Don’t.” Her voice whipped with anger, sending me recoiling and falling on my rear. The limo set into motion, jostling me.

Crying, I watched her pour a glass of amber liquor at the bar and toss it back. I waited on the floorboards, my stomach churning with fear and grief. She refilled her glass before shutting the bar and dropping back in her seat. I wanted to ask her if Brett was okay or badly hurt. I wanted to ask how Lauren was, if she was injured or fine. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if she would take the questions the wrong way and assume my concern for Brett meant more than it did.

Her face was impassive, her eyes hard as sapphires. “What is he to you?”

I swiped at the tears streaming down my face. “A mistake.”

“Then? Or now?”

“Both.”

Her lip curled in a sneer. “You always kiss your mistakes like that?”

My chest heaved as I tried to stem the need to sob. I shook my head violently.

“You want him?” she asked tightly, before taking another drink.

“No,” I whispered. “I only want you. I love you, Lauren. So much it hurts.”

Her eyes closed and her head fell back. I took the opportunity to crawl closer, needing to bridge the physical distance between us, at least.

“Did you come for me when I had my fingers inside you, Camila? Or because of his goddamn song?”

Oh my God . . . How could she doubt—?

I made her doubt. I did that. “You. You’re the only one who can get to me like that. Make me forget where I am. Make it so I don’t care who’s around or what’s happening as long as you’re touching me.”

“Isn’t that what happened when he kissed you?” Lauren’s eyes opened and focused on me. “He’s had his dick in you. He’s fucked you . . . blown his load inside you.”

I cringed away from the horrible bitterness in her tone, the vicious nastiness. I knew just how she felt. How badly the mental images could sting and claw until you felt like you were going mad. In my mind, she and Corinne had fucked dozens of times while I watched in sick, jealous fury.

She straightened suddenly, leaning forward to rub her thumb roughly across my lips. “He’s had your mouth.”

I grabbed her glass and drank what was left in it, hating the harsh taste and searing burn. I swallowed by force of will alone. My stomach roiled, protesting. The heat of the alcohol spread outward from my gut.

Lauren sagged back into the seat, her arm thrown across her face. I knew she was still seeing me kissing Brett. Knew it was eating a hole in her mind.

Dropping the glass on the floor, I surged between her legs and fumbled with her button fly.

She caught my fingers in an iron grip but kept her eyes covered with her forearm. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come in my mouth,” I begged. “Wash it away.”

There was a long pause. She sat there, utterly still except for the heavy lift and fall of her chest.

“Please, baby.”

With a muttered curse, she released me, her hand falling limply to her side. “Do it.”

I rushed to get to her, my pulse pounding at the thought that she might change her mind and deny me . . . that she might decide she was done with me. The only help she gave me was a momentary lift of her hips, so I could yank her jeans and boxer briefs out of the way.

Then her big, beautiful cock was in my hands. My mouth. I moaned at the taste of her, at the warmth and satiny softness of her skin, at the smell of her. I nuzzled my cheek against her groin and balls, wanting her scent all over me, marking me as hers. My tongue followed the thick veins coursing the length of him, licking her up and down.

I heard her teeth grind when I sucked her with long drawing pulls, moans of apology and bliss vibrating in my throat. It broke my heart that she was so silent, my vocal lover who always talked dirty to me. Always told me what she wanted and needed . . . how good she felt when I made love to her. She was holding herself back, denying me the satisfaction of knowing I pleased her.

Pumping the thick root with my fist, I milked her, sucking on the plush crown, luring her pre-cum to the tip where I could lick it up with rapid flutters of my tongue. Her thighs bunched, her breath came in fierce pants. I felt her coil tight and I went wild, double-fisting her, my mouth working so hard that my jaw ached. Her spine straightened, her head lifting from the seat only to slam backward as the first thick spurt exploded in my mouth.

I whimpered, her flavor igniting my senses, making me crave more. I swallowed convulsively, my hands pulling and rubbing on her throbbing penis to lure more of her rich, creamy semen onto my tongue. Her body quaked as she came for long minutes, filling my mouth until she spilled out of the sides of my lips. She made no sound, as unnaturally silent as she’d been during the fight.

I would’ve sucked her off for hours. I wanted to, but she put both hands on my shoulders and urged me away. I looked up into her heartrendingly gorgeous face, saw her eyes glittering in the semidarkness. She touched my lips with her thumb, smearing her semen over and around the swollen curves.

“Slide your tight cunt around me,” she ordered hoarsely. “I’ve got more to give you.”

Shaky and frightened by her harsh remoteness, I wriggled out of my boy shorts.

“Take it all off. Everything except the boots.”

I did as she said, my body quickening at her command. I’d do anything he wanted. I would prove to her that I was hers and only hers. I would atone however she needed me to so she’d know I loved her. I unzipped my skirt and pushed it off, then whipped my tank top over my head and threw it on the opposite bench. My bra followed.

When I straddled her, Lauren caught my hips and looked up at me. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“It turns you on to suck my cock.”

My nipples hardened further. The blunt, crude way she talked about sex turned me on, too. “Always.”

“Why did you kiss him?”

The abrupt change in topic knocked me askew. My lower lip trembled. “I don’t know.”

She released me, reaching up and over her shoulders with both hands to grip the sides of the headrest. Her biceps bulged with the pose. I was aroused by the sight, as I was by everything about her. I wanted to see her bare tits glistening with sweat, her abs tightening and flexing as she pumped her cock into me.

I licked my lips, tasting her. “Take your shirt off.”

Her gaze narrowed. “This isn’t for you.”

I stilled, my heart racing in my chest. She was using sex against me. In the limo where we’d first made love, in the same position I’d first taken her . . . “You’re punishing me.”

“You’ve earned it.”

It didn’t matter that she was right. If I’d earned it, so had she.

I gripped the top of the seat back for balance and wrapped the fingers of my other hand around her cock. She was still hard, still throbbing. A muscle in her neck twitched as I stroked her in my fist, priming her. I placed the wide crest between the lips of my cleft, rubbing her back and forth, coating her with the slickness of my desire.

My gaze never left her. I watched her as I teased us both, looking for any sign of the passionate lover I adored. She wasn’t there. A furious stranger glared back at me, daring me, taunting me with her detachment.

I let the first thick inch push inside me, spreading me open. Then I slammed my hips down, crying out as she pierced me deep and stretched me almost unbearably.

“Jesus. Fuck,” she bit out, shuddering. “Goddamn it.”

Her uncontrolled outburst spurred me. Digging my knees into the seat, I set my hands on either side of hers and lifted, pulling off her, my trembling sex clinging tightly. I pushed back down, the glide easier now that she was wet from me. When my buttocks hit her thighs I found her muscles hard as stone, her body giving away the lie—she wasn’t indifferent.

I lifted again, slowly, making us both feel every nuance of the delicious friction. When I pushed back down, I tried to be as stoic as she was, but the sensation of fullness, the heated connection, was too exquisite to contain. I moaned, and she shifted restlessly, her hips moving in a delicious little circle before she could stop himself.

“You feel so good,” I whispered, stroking her raging cock with my eager, aching sex. Sliding up and down. “You’re all I need, Lauren. All I want. You were made for me.”

“You forgot that,” she bit out, her knuckles white from her grip on the seat back.

I wondered if she was just holding on or physically restraining herself from reaching for me. “Never. I could never forget. You’re a part of me.”

“Tell me why you kissed him.”

“I don’t know.” I rested my damp forehead against her, feeling the tears burning behind my eyes. “God, Lauren. I swear I don’t know.”

“Then shut up and make me come.”

If she’d slapped my face, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I straightened and leaned away from her. “Fuck you.”

“Now you’re getting the idea.”

Hot tears slid down my face. “Don’t treat me like a whore.”

“Camila.” Her voice was low and raspy, filled with warning, but her eyes were dark and desolate. Filled with pain that matched my own. “You want to stop, you know what to say.”

Crossfire. With one word I could unmistakably, irrefutably put an end to this agony. But I couldn’t use it now. Just the fact that she brought up my safe word told me she was testing me. Pushing me. She had an agenda, and if I gave up now, I’d never know what it was.

Reaching behind me, I set my hands on her knees. I arched my back and dragged my soaked sex along the rigid length of her cock, then slammed back down. I adjusted the angle, lifted and fell again, gasping at the feel of her. Mad as hell or not, my body worshiped hers. Loved the feel of her, the sense of rightness that was there despite the anger and hurt.

Her breath was powering out of her lungs with every plunge of my hips. Her body was hot, so hot, radiating heat like a blast furnace. I pumped my hips. Up. Down. Taking the pleasure she refused to give me. My thighs, buttocks, stomach, and core tightened with every lift, fisting her from root to tip. They relaxed when I dropped, letting her sink deep.

I fucked her with everything I had, pounding myself onto her cock. Her breath hissed out between her clenched teeth. Then she was coming hard, jetting inside me so fiercely I felt each scorching burst of semen like a separate thrust. I cried out, loving the feel of it, chasing an orgasm that would shatter me. I was wound so tightly, my body desperate for release after pleasing her twice.

But she moved, grabbing me by the waist and restraining my movements, holding herself deep as she pumped me full. I choked off a scream when I realized she was deliberately preventing me from coming.

“Tell me why, Camila,” she growled. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled, trying to grind my hips onto her, pounding her shoulders with my fists when his grip tightened.

Holding me pinned to her pelvis and filled with her cock, Lauren pushed to her feet and everything shifted. She pulled out of me, flipped me to face away from her, then bent me over the edge of the seat with my knees on the floorboard. With one hand at the small of my back, holding me down, she cupped my sex and rubbed, massaging her semen into my cleft. She spread it around, coating me with it. My hips circled, seeking that perfect bit of pressure to get me off . . .

She kept it from me. Deliberately.

The pounding in my clit and the needy clenching of my empty core was driving me mad, my body hungry for release. She pushed two fingers into me and my nails dug into the black leather seat. She finger-fucked me leisurely, sliding lazily in and out, keeping me on the edge.

“Lauren,” I sobbed, the sensitive tissues inside me rippling greedily around her. I was coated in sweat, barely able to breathe. I began to pray for the car to stop, for us to reach our destination, holding my breath in desperate anticipation of escape. But the limo never pulled over. It kept driving and driving, and I was restrained so completely that I couldn’t rise up enough to see where we were.

She folded over my back, her cock lying within the seam of my ass. “Tell me why, Camila,” she crooned in my ear. “You knew I’d be coming after you . . . that I’d find you . . .”

My eyes squeezed shut, my hands clenching into fists. “I. Don’t. Know. Damn you! I don’t fucking know!”

Her fingers pulled free and then her cock was pushing into me. My sex spasmed around the delicious hardness, sucking her deeper. I heard her breath catch on a muffled groan, and then she was taking me.

I cried with the pleasure of it, my entire body shivering with delight as she fucked me thoroughly, the wide head of her gorgeous penis rubbing and tugging at tender, hyperstimulated nerves. The pressure built and built, brewing like a storm . . .

“Yes,” I gasped, stretched tight with anticipation.

She pulled out at the first grasp of my sex and left me hanging on the precipice again. I screamed with frustration, fighting to get up and away from the lover who’d become the source of unbearable torment.

She whispered in my ear like the devil himself. “Tell me why, Camila. Are you thinking of him now? Are you wishing it were his cock inside you? Wishing it were his cock fucking your perfect little cunt?”

I screamed again. “I hate you! You’re a sadistic, selfish son of a—”

She was in me again, filling me, stroking rhythmically into my quivering core.

Unable to stand it a minute longer, I struggled to reach my clit with my fingers, knowing a single stroke would have me coming violently.

“No.” Lauren caught my wrists and held my hands down on the seat, her thighs between my own, keeping my legs spread wide so she could sink deep. Over and over. The tempo of her thrusts unfaltering and relentless.

I was thrashing, screaming, losing my mind. She could make me come with just her cock, giving me an intense vaginal orgasm just from riding me at the right angle, rubbing her thick crest over and over whatever spot I needed her to, a random place inside me she knew instinctively every time she had me.

“I hate you,” I sobbed, tears of frustration wetting my face and the seat beneath my cheek.

Bending over me, she gasped in my ear, “Tell me why, Camila.”

Fury boiled up inside me and spewed out. “Because you deserved it! Because you should know what it feels like! How bad it hurts, you self-centered asshole!”

She stilled. I felt her breath heave out of her. My blood was roaring in my ears, so loudly that at first I thought I was deliriously imagining her voice softening with tenderness.

“Angel.” Her lips brushed over my shoulder blade, her hands releasing my wrists to slide beneath me and cup my full, heavy breasts. “My stubborn, beautiful angel. Finally, we get to the truth.”

Lauren lifted me up, straightening me. Exhausted, my head lolled against her shoulder, my tears dripping onto my chest. I had nothing left to fight with, barely able to whimper when she rolled an aching nipple between her fingertips and reached between my splayed legs. Her hips began to lunge, her cock pumping upward into me as she pinched the lips of my sex around my throbbing clit and rubbed.

I came with a hoarse cry of her name, my entire body convulsing in fierce tremors as the relief exploded through me. The orgasm lasted forever and Lauren was tireless, extending my pleasure with the perfect thrusts I’d been so frantic for earlier.

When I finally collapsed in her arms, panting and soaked with sweat, she lifted me carefully off her and placed me lengthwise on the bench seat. Shattered, I covered my face with my hands, incapable of stopping her when she pushed my thighs apart and put her mouth on me. I was soaked with her semen and she didn’t care, tonguing and suckling my clit until I came again. And again.

My back arched with each orgasm, my breath soughing from my lungs. I lost track of how many times I climaxed after they began rolling into each other, cresting and waning like the tide. I tried to curl away from her, but she just straightened and yanked her shirt off, climbing over me with one knee on the seat and the other leg extended to the floor. She placed her hands on the window above my head, putting her body on display as she’d refused to do before.

I shoved at her. “No more! I can’t take any more.”

“I know.” Her abs tightened as she slid into me, her eyes on my face as she pushed carefully through swollen tissues. “I just want to be inside you.”

My neck arched as she slid deeper, a low sound escaping me because it felt sooo good. As worn out and overstimulated as I was, I still craved to possess her and to be possessed by her. I knew I always would.

Bending her head, she pressed her lips to my forehead. “You’re all I want, Camila. There’s no one else. There will never be anyone else.”

“Lauren.” She understood, as I hadn’t, that the night had fallen apart because of my jealousy and the deep-seated need I had to make her feel it for herself.

She kissed me softly, reverently, erasing every memory of anyone else’s lips on mine.

* * *

“Angel.” Lauren’s voice was a warm rasp in my ear. “Wake up.”

I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and burying my face deeper in her neck. “Leave me alone, you sex fiend.”

Her silent laughter shook me. She pressed a hard kiss to my forehead and wiggled out from under me. “We’re here.”

Cracking one eye open, I watched her put her shirt back on. She’d never gotten out of her jeans. I realized the sun was out. I sat up and looked out the windows, gasping when I saw the ocean. We’d stopped for gas once but I hadn’t been able to get my bearings or figure out where we were. Lauren had declined to tell me when I asked, saying only that it was a surprise.

“Where are we?” I breathed, thrilled by the sight of the sun climbing over the water. It had to be solidly into morning. Maybe even midmorning.

“North Carolina. Lift your arms.”

I obeyed automatically, and she slid my tank top over my head. “I need my bra,” I muttered, when I could see her again.

“No one’s here to see you but me and we’re going straight into the bathtub.”

I looked again at the weathered shingle-covered building we’d parked beside. It was at least three stories, with wraparound decks and balconies on the front and sides, and a quaint single-door entrance off the back. It stood on stilts at the shoreline, so close to the water that I knew the tide must come up right beneath it. “How long have we been driving?”

“Almost ten hours.” Lauren slid my skirt up my legs and I stood, allowing her to twist it straight and pull up the zipper. “Let’s go.”

She got out first, then held her hand out for me. The bracing, salty breeze hit my face, waking me. The rhythmic surge of the ocean grounded me to the moment and where we were. Angus was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, since I was very aware of my lack of underwear. “Angus drove all night?”

“We switched drivers when we stopped for gas.”

I looked at Lauren and my pulse stuttered at the tender, haunted way she was looking at me. A shadow of a bruise marred her jaw and I reached up to touch it, my chest aching when she nuzzled into my palm.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, feeling so emotionally raw after the long night we’d had.

She caught my wrist and pulled my hand down to press flat over her heart. “Here.”

My love . . . It had been hard on her, too. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” She kissed my fingertips, then linked our hands and led me up to the house.

The door was unlocked and she walked right in. A wire mesh basket sat on a console just inside the door, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses tied with ribbon. As Lauren turned the deadbolt with a firm click, I plucked the Welcome envelope out and opened it. A key fell into my palm.

“We won’t be needing that.” She took the key from me and set it on the console. “For the next two days, we’re going to be hermits together.”

A hum of pleasure warmed me from the inside, followed by more than a little awe that a woman like Lauren Jauregui could enjoy my company so much she didn’t need anyone else.

“Come on,” she said, tugging me toward the stairs. “We’ll break into that wine later.”

“Yeah. Coffee first.”

I took in the décor of the house. It was rustic on the outside and modern contemporary on the inside. The wainscoted walls were painted a bright white and decorated with massive black-and-white photos of seashells. The furniture was all white, and most of the accessory pieces were glass and metal. It would have been stark if not for the gorgeous view of the ocean and the color introduced in the area rugs covering the hardwood floors and the collection of hardcover books filling built-in bookcases.

When we reached the top floor, I felt a flutter of happiness. The master suite was a totally open space, with only two support columns to break it up. Bouquets of white roses, white tulips, and white calla lilies covered nearly every flat surface, and some even sat on the floor in strategic areas. The bed was massive and covered in white satin, which made me think of a bridal suite, an impression reinforced by the black-and-white photo of a filmy scarf or veil blowing in the breeze hanging over the headboard.

I looked at Lauren. “Have you been here before?”

She reached up and freed my now-lopsided ponytail. “No. What reason would I have to come here?”

Right. She didn’t take women anywhere but her hotel fuck pad—that she apparently still had. My eyes closed wearily as she ran her fingers through the loosened tresses of my hair. I didn’t have the energy to get riled up about that.

“Take your clothes off, angel. I’ll start the bath.”

She backed up. I opened my eyes and caught her by the shirt. I didn’t know what to say; I just didn’t want her to go.

She understood, because she got me.

“I’m not going anywhere, Camila.” Lauren cupped my jaw in her hands and stared into my eyes, showing me the intensity and laser focus that had snared me from the first. “If you wanted him, it wouldn’t be enough for me to let you go. I want you too much. I want you with me, in my life, in my bed. If I can have that, nothing else matters. I’m not too proud to take what I can get.”

I swayed into her, drawn to her obsessive and insatiable raw need for me, which reflected the depth of my need for her. My hand fisted in the cotton of her T-shirt.

“Angel,” she breathed, lowering her head to press her cheek to mine. “You can’t let me go, either.”

She swept me up in her arms and carried me into the bathroom with her.

#camren #camren gip #camren fanfiction #camren smut #lauren and camila #laurengip #camila and lauren #lauren jauregui #fanfic

Chapter 9

I hurried through the security turnstiles of the Crossfire and grinned when I saw Cary waiting for me in the lobby.

“Hey, you,” I greeted him, admiring how he managed to make worn jeans and a V-neck T-shirt look expensive.

“Hey, stranger.” He held out his hand to me and we stepped out of the building through the side door hand-in-hand. “You’re looking happy.”

The noonday heat hit me like a physical barrier. “Ugh. It’s hot as hell. Let’s pick somewhere close. You up for tacos?”

“Hell yeah.”

I took him to the little Mexican place Megumi had introduced me to and tried not to let him see how guilty his greeting made me feel. I hadn’t been home in a couple of days and Lauren was planning a weekend trip away, which meant it would be another few days before I hung out with Cary again. It had been a relief when he’d agreed to meet me for lunch. I didn’t want to go too long without checking in with him and making sure he was all right.

“Got any plans tonight?” I asked, after ordering for both of us.

“One of the photographers I’ve worked with is having a birthday bash tonight. I figured I’d pop in for a bit and see how it goes.” He rocked back on his heels as we waited for our tacos and blended virgin margaritas. “You still planning on hanging with your boss’s sister? You guys wanna come with?”

“Sister-in-law,” I corrected. “And she’s got concert tickets. I’m her last hope, she said, but even if I wasn’t, I think it’ll be fun. At least I hope so. I’ve never heard of the band, so I’m just hoping they don’t suck.”

“Who is it?”

“Six-Ninths. Know ’em?”

His eyes widened. “Six-Ninths? Really? They’re good. You’ll like them.”

I grabbed our drinks off the counter and left the tray with our plates for him to carry. “You’ve heard of them and Shawna’s a big fan. Where have I been?”

“Under Jauregui and her hard place. You taking her with you?”

“Yes.” I hurried to grab a table as two businessmen stood to leave. I didn’t tell Cary about Lauren’s assertion that I couldn’t go without her. I knew that wouldn’t go over well with Cary, which made me wonder why I’d let it go as easily as I did. Usually Cary and I agreed about stuff like that.

“Can’t see Jauregui liking alt rock.” Cary sank fluidly into the chair across from me. “Does she know how much you like it? Especially the musicians who play it?”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “I can’t believe you brought that up. Ancient history.”

“So? Brett was hot. Ever think about him?”

“With shame.” I picked up one of the carne asada tacos. “So I try not to.”

“He was a decent guy,” Cary said, before slurping up a hefty swallow of margarita-flavored slush.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t. He just wasn’t good for me.” Just thinking about that time in my life made me want to squirm in embarrassment. Brett Kline was hot and he had a voice that made me wet just hearing it, but he was also one of the prime examples of an unfortunate choice in my previously sordid love life. “Moving on . . . You talk to Trey lately?”

Cary’s smile faded. “This morning.”

I waited patiently.

Finally, he sighed. “I miss him. Miss talking to him. He’s so fucking smart, you know? Like you. He’s going to that party with me tonight.”

“As friends? Or as a date?”

“These are really good.” He chewed a bite of one of his tacos before replying. “We’re supposed to be going as friends, but you know I’ll probably screw that up and fuck him. I asked him to meet me there and to head home from there so we’re not alone, but I can always bang him in the bathroom or a goddamn maintenance closet. I have no willpower and he can’t say no to me.”

My heart hurt at his dejected tone.

“I know what that’s like,” I reminded him softly. That’d been me once. I’d been so desperate to feel connected with somebody. “Why don’t you . . . you know . . . take care of it beforehand. Maybe that’ll help.”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across his handsome face. “Can I get you to record that for my voicemail message?”

I threw my wadded-up napkin at him.

He caught it with a laugh. “You can be such a prude sometimes. I love it.”

“I love you. And I want you to be happy.”

Lifting my hand to his lips, he kissed the back. “I’m working on it, baby girl.”

“I’m here if you need me, even if I’m not home.”

“I know.” He squeezed my hand before releasing it.

“I’ll be around a lot next week. Gotta get ready for my dad’s visit.” I bit into a taco and my feet did a little happy tap dance at how delicious it was. “I wanted to ask you about Friday. I’ve got to work, so if you’re around, would you keep an eye on him? I’ll stock up on the food he likes and leave him some city maps, but—”

“No problem.” Cary winked at a pretty blonde as she walked by. “He’ll be in good hands.”

“Want to see a show with us while he’s in town?”

“Camila honey, I’m always game to hang with you. Just let me know where and when, and I’ll keep things clear as much as possible.”

“Oh!” I quickly chewed and swallowed. “Mom told me she saw your pretty mug on the side of a bus the other day.”

He grinned. “I know. She forwarded a pic she’d taken with her phone. Awesome, right?”

“Beyond. We’ll need to celebrate,” I said, stealing his signature line.

“Hell yeah.”

* * *

“Whoa!” Shawna paused on the sidewalk outside her Brooklyn apartment complex and gaped at the limousine idling in the street. “You went all out.”

“Not me,” I said dryly, checking out her tight red shorts and strategically slashed Six-Ninths screened T-shirt. Her bright hair had been pulled up and teased, and her lips were painted to match her shorts. She looked hot and ready to party, and I felt vindicated in my clothing choice of ultra-short black leather pleated skirt, fitted white ribbed tank top, and cherry red sixteen-eye Doc Martens.

Lauren, who’d had her back to us while talking to Angus, turned to face us, and I found myself as dumbstruck now as I’d been when I first saw her after she had showered and changed. She wore loose-fitting black jeans and a plain black T-shirt with heavy black boots and somehow made the severely casual combination look so fucking sexy, I wanted to jump her bones. As Dark and Dangerous as she was in a pantsuit, she was even more so when ready to rock. She looked younger and every bit as mouthwateringly gorgeous.

“Holy shit, tell me that’s for me,” Shawna whispered, gripping my wrist like a vise.

“Hey, you’ve got your own. That one’s mine.” And it gave me a huge thrill to say so. Mine to claim, to touch, to kiss. And later on, to fuck to exhaustion. Oh yeah . . .

She laughed when I rocked onto my tiptoes in anticipation. “All right. I’ll settle for an introduction.”

I did the honors, then waited for her to hop into the limo first. I was about to climb in after her when I felt Lauren’s hand slide up beneath my skirt to squeeze my butt.

She pressed against my back and whispered in my ear, “Make sure I’m standing behind you when you bend over, angel, or I’ll be spanking this pretty ass.”

Turning my head, I leaned my cheek against hers. “My period’s over.”

She growled, her fingertips biting into the flesh of my hip. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“Delayed gratification, ace,” I told her, using a phrase she’d once tormented me with. I was laughing at her curse when I dropped onto the bench seat beside Shawna.

Angus slid behind the wheel and we headed out, breaking into a bottle of Armand de Brignac on the way. By the time we pulled up to Tableau One, a hot new fusion bistro that had a healthy line out front and energetic music pouring out onto the street, the combination of the champagne and Lauren’s hot gaze on the nearly indecent hemline of my skirt had me feeling giddy.

Shawna slid forward on the seat and stared wide-eyed through the tinted windows. “Doug tried to get us in here before he left, but the waiting list is two months long. You can walk up, but the wait can be hours and there’s no guarantee you’ll be seated.”

The limo door opened and Angus helped her out, then me. Lauren joined us, taking my arm as if we were dressed for a gala and not a rock concert. We were escorted inside so quickly, with the manager being so gushy and welcoming, that I looked at Lauren and mouthed, One of yours?

“Yes, in partnership.”

I just sighed, reconciled to the inevitable. “Is your friend going to meet us for dinner?”

Lauren gestured with an easy nod of her chin. “He’s already here.”

I followed her gaze to an attractive man sporting blue jeans and a Six-Ninths T-shirt. The gentleman was acting as the focal point in a photo op with two pretty women on each side. He smiled wide for the person wielding a smartphone camera, then waved at Lauren and excused himself.

“Oh my God.” Shawna bounced on her feet. “That’s Arnoldo Ricci! He owns this place. And he’s got a show on the Food Network!”

Lauren released me to clasp hands with Arnoldo and engage in the backslapping ritual of close friends. “Arnoldo, my girlfriend, Camila Camila.”

I extended my hand and Arnoldo grabbed it, pulled me closer, and kissed me straight on the mouth.

“Back off,” Lauren snapped, tugging me behind her.

Arnoldo grinned, his dark eyes flashing with humor. “And who’s this vision?” he asked, turning to Shawna and lifting her hand to his lips.

“Shawna, this will be your escort, Arnoldo Ricci, if he manages to survive dinner.” Lauren shot her friend a warning look. “Arnoldo, Shawna Ellison.”

She practically glowed. “My boyfriend’s a huge fan of yours. I am, too. He made your lasagna recipe once and it was. To. Die. For.”

“Lauren told me your man is in Sicily now.” Arnoldo’s voice was flavored with a delicious accent. “I hope you can make the time to visit with him there.”

My gaze darted to Lauren, knowing damn well I’d never given her that much information about Shawna’s boyfriend. She glanced down at me with a look of mock innocence and an almost imperceptible smirk.

I shook my head, exasperated, but I couldn’t deny that this would be a night Shawna would never forget.

The next hour passed in a blur of excellent food and fine wine. I was polishing off an extraordinary zabaione with raspberries when I caught Arnoldo watching me with a wide smile.

“Bellissima,” he praised. “Always a joy to see a woman with a healthy appetite.”

I flushed, slightly embarrassed. I couldn’t help it; I loved food.

Lauren draped her arm along the back of my chair and toyed with the hair at my nape. Her other hand lifted a glass of red wine to her mouth and when she licked her lips, I knew she was thinking about tasting me instead. Her desire was charging the air between us. I had been falling under its spell all through dinner.

Reaching beneath the tablecloth, I cupped her cock through her jeans and squeezed. She went from semihard to stone instantly but gave no other outward indication of her arousal.

I couldn’t help but see that as a challenge.

I began to stroke the rigid length of her with my fingers, careful to keep my movements slow and easy to prevent detection. To my delight, Lauren continued her conversation without a hitch in her voice or change of expression. Her control excited me, made me bolder. I reached for her button fly, turned on by the thought of releasing her and stroking her skin on skin.

Lauren took another leisurely sip, then set her wineglass down.

“Only you, Arnoldo,” she said dryly in response to something her friend had said.

My wrist was caught just as I tugged at the top button of her jeans. She lifted my hand to her lips, the gesture appearing to be an absentminded show of affection. The quick nip of her teeth into the pad of my finger caught me by surprise and made me gasp.

Arnoldo smiled; it was the knowing and slightly mocking smile one bachelor gave to another who’d been caught by a woman. He said something in Italian. Lauren replied, her pronunciation sounding fluid and sexy, her tone wry. Arnoldo threw his dark head back and laughed.

I squirmed in my seat. I loved seeing Lauren like this, relaxed and enjoying herself.

She looked at my empty dessert plate, then at me. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yes.” I was dying to see how the rest of the night would go, how many more sides of Lauren I’d get to discover. Because I loved this side of the woman as much as I loved the powerful businesswoman in the suit and the dominant lover in my bed and the broken child who couldn’t hide her tears and the tender partner who held me when I cried.

She was so complex and still a huge mystery to me. I’d barely scratched the surface of who she was. Which didn’t stop me from being in too deep.

* * *

“These guys are good!” Shawna yelled as the opening act barreled headlong into their fifth song.

We’d left our seats after the third, working our way through a writhing crowd to the railing that divided the seating area from the mosh pit in front of the stage. Lauren surrounded me, her arms caging me on both sides, her hands gripping the rail. The audience pressed in around us, collectively pushing forward, but I was cushioned from it by her body, just as Shawna was by Arnoldo beside us.

I was sure Lauren could have gotten us way better seats, but I didn’t have to tell her that the way Shawna had scored her fan-only tickets and the fact that she’d invited us meant her seats were our only option. I loved her for understanding that and for going with the flow.

Turning my head, I looked at her. “Is this band with Vidal, too?”

“No. But I like them.”

I was stoked that she was enjoying the show. Lifting my arms in the air, I screamed, feeling pumped by the energy of the crowd and the driving beat. I danced within the circle of Lauren’s arms, my body drenched in sweat, my blood raging.

When the act was done, the stagehands quickly set to work breaking down the equipment and setting up for Six-Ninths. Grateful for the evening, for the joy, for the awesomeness of going wild with the woman I loved, I turned and threw my arms around Lauren’s neck, mashing my lips to hers.

She lifted me and urged my legs around her waist, kissing me violently. She was hard and pressing against me, luring me to grind into her. Around us people whistled and catcalled things that ranged from “Get a room” to “Fuck her, man!” but I didn’t care and neither did Lauren, who seemed as swept away by the sensual craziness as I was. Her hand on my buttocks rocked me into her erection while the other fisted in my hair, holding me where she wanted me as she kissed me as if she couldn’t stop, as if she were starving for the taste of me.

Our open mouths slid desperately across each other. She tongued me deep and fast, fucking my mouth, making love to it. I drank her in, licking and tasting, moaning at her insatiable need. She sucked on my tongue, the circle of her lips sliding along it. It was too much. I was slick and aching for her cock, nearly frantic with the need to feel her filling me.

“You’re going to make me come,” she growled, before tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth.

I was so into her and the ferocity of her passion for me that I barely registered when Six-Ninths started. It wasn’t until the vocals kicked in that I was jolted back to where I was.

I stiffened, my mind clawing its way up through the fog of desire to process what I was hearing. I knew the song. My eyes opened as Lauren pulled back. Over her shoulder I saw handwritten signs held up in the air.

BRETT KLINE IS MINE! And BANG ME, BRETT! And my personal favorite, BRETT, I’D HIT IT WITH YOU LIKE THE WRATH OF GOD!!!

Hell. What were the chances?

And Cary had known, of course. He’d known and hadn’t warned me. Probably thought it’d be hysterical for me to find out by accident instead.

My legs loosened from around Lauren’s hips and she set me down, protecting me from the frenzied fans with the shield of her body. I turned to face the stage, feeling a mad fluttering in my belly. Sure enough, it was Brett Kline at the mic, his deep, powerful, sexy-as-hell voice pouring over the thousands who’d come to see him in action. His short hair was spiked and tipped with platinum, his lean body clothed in olive cargo pants and a black tank top. It was impossible to see from where I was, but I knew his eyes were a brilliant emerald green, his face was ruggedly handsome, and his killer smile revealed a dimple that drove women crazy.

Tearing my eyes away from him, I looked at the other band members, recognizing all of them. They hadn’t been called Six-Ninths back in San Diego, though. They’d been called Captive Soul then, and I wondered what had led to the name change.

“Good, aren’t they?” Lauren asked with her mouth to my ear so I could hear her. She had one hand on the railing and the other around my waist, keeping me pulled up tight against her as she moved to the music. The combination of her body and Brett’s voice did insane things to my already raging sex drive.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the woman behind me and the unique rush I’d always felt while listening to Brett sing. The music throbbed through my veins, bringing back memories—some good and some bad. I swayed in Lauren’s arms, desire pounding through me. I was achingly aware of her hunger. It poured off her like heat waves, sinking into me, making me crave her until the physical distance between us was painful.

Grabbing the hand she had pressed flat against my stomach, I urged it downward.

“Camila.” Her voice was harsh with lust. I’d been pushing her all night, from the moment I told her my period was over, to the hand job beneath the restaurant table, to the scorching kiss in the intermission.

She gripped my bare thigh and squeezed. “Open.”

I set my left foot on the bottom of the railing. My head fell back against her shoulder and a heartbeat later, her hand was under my skirt. Her tongue traced the shell of my ear, her breathing hard and fast. I felt her groan as much as heard it when she discovered how wet I was.

One song blended into another. Lauren rubbed me through the crotch of my boyshorts, moving in circles, then vertically through my cleft. My hips rolled into her touch, my core clenching, my ass grinding into the hard ridge of her erection. I was going to come right there, inches away from dozens of people, because that was what Lauren did to me. That was how insanely she turned me on. Nothing mattered when her hands were on me, her attention completely riveted to me.

“That’s it, angel.” Her fingers pushed my underwear aside and two sank into me. “I’m going to fuck this gorgeous cunt for days.”

With bodies pressing in all around us, music pounding over us, and privacy granted only by distraction, Lauren slid her fingers deep into my soaked sex and stayed there. The solid, unmoving penetration drove me wild. I ground my hips into her hand, working toward the orgasm I needed so desperately.

The song ended and the lights went out. Drenched in darkness, the crowd roared. Anticipation weighted the audience, building until the strum of guitar strings broke the heavy expectation. Shouts rang out, then lighters flickered to life, turning the sea of people into thousands of fireflies.

A spotlight hit the stage, revealing Brett sitting on a bar stool, shirtless and glistening with sweat. His chest was hard and defined, his abs ridged with muscle. He lowered the height of the microphone stand and the piercings in his nipples glittered with his movements. The women in the audience screamed, including Shawna, who jumped in place and gave an ear splitting whistle.

I totally got it. Sitting there as he was, with his feet propped on the rungs of the chair and his muscular arms covered in sleeves of black and gray tattoos, Brett looked insanely sexy and extremely fuckable. For six months nearly four years ago I’d debased myself to get him naked every chance I could, so infatuated with him and desperate to be loved that I took whatever scraps he threw me.

Lauren’s fingers began to slide in and out of me. The bass kicked in. Brett began to sing a song I’d never heard before, his voice low and soulful, the words crystal clear. He had the voice of a fallen angel. Mesmerizing. Seductive. And the face and body to enhance the temptation.

Golden girl, there you are.

I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

I’m living my dream, riding the high,

But I see you there, sunlight in your hair,

And I’m ready to go, desperate to fly.

Golden girl, there you are.

Dancing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

I want you so bad. I can’t look away.

Later, you’ll drop to your knees. You’ll beg me please.

And then you’ll go, it’s only your body I know.

Golden girl, where’d you go?

You’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.

I could have you in the bar or the back of my car,

But never your heart. I’m falling apart.

I’ll drop to my knees, I’ll beg you. Please.

Please don’t go. There’s so much more I want to know.

Camila, please. I’m on my knees.

Golden girl, where’d you go?

I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

And you’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.

Camila, please. I’m on my knees.

The spotlight went dark. A long moment passed as the music faded. Then the lights came back on and the drums exploded with sound. The flames winked out and the crowd went crazy.

But I was lost to the roaring in my ears, the tightness in my chest, and a confusion that had me reeling.

“That song,” Lauren growled in my ear, her fingers fucking me forcefully, “makes me think of you.”

Her palm pressed into my clit and massaged, and I climaxed in a rush that took me by storm. Tears came to my eyes. I cried out, shaking in her arms. Gripping the railing in front of me, I held on and let the unstoppable pleasure pulse through me.

* * *

When the show was over, all I could think about was getting to a phone and calling Cary. While we waited for the crowd to thin, I leaned heavily into Lauren, drawing support from the strength of her arms around me.

“You okay?” she asked, running her hands up and down my back.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Honestly, I didn’t know how I was feeling. It shouldn’t matter that Brett wrote a song about me that painted a different light on our fuck-buddy history. I was in love with someone else.

“I want to go, too,” she murmured. “I’m dying to get inside you, angel. I can barely think straight.”

I pushed my hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “So let’s get out of here.”

“I’ve got backstage access.” She kissed the tip of my nose when I leaned back to look up at her. “We don’t have to tell them, if you’d rather get out of here.”

I seriously debated it for a moment. After all, the night had been great as it was, thanks to Lauren. But I knew it’d bother me later, if I denied Shawna and Arnoldo—who was also a Six-Ninths fan—something they’d remember for the rest of their lives. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that I wanted to catch a glimpse of Brett up close. I didn’t want him to see me, but I wanted to see him. “No. Let’s take them back there.”

Lauren grabbed my hand and spoke to our friends, whose excitement over the news gave me the excuse to say I’d done it solely for them. We headed down toward the stage, then off to the side of it, where Lauren spoke to the massive man acting as security. When the guy spoke into the mic of his headset, Lauren pulled out her cell and told Angus to bring the limo around to the back. While she spoke, her eyes met mine. The heat in them and the promise of pleasure took my breath away.

“Your woman is the ultimate,” Shawna said, eyeing Lauren with a look of near reverence. It wasn’t a predatory look, just an appreciative one. “I can’t believe this night. I owe you big-time for this.”

She pulled me in for a quick, hard hug. “Thank you.”

I hugged her back. “Thank you for inviting me.”

A tall, rangy man with blue streaks in his hair and stylish black-framed glasses approached us. “Miss. Jauregui,” he greeted Lauren, extending his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be coming tonight.”

Lauren shook the man’s hand. “I didn’t tell you,” she replied smoothly, reaching her other hand out to me.

I caught it and he pulled me forward, introducing me to Robert Phillips, Six-Ninths’ manager. Shawna and Arnoldo were introduced next; then we were led back through the wings, where activity was high and groupies loitered.

I suddenly didn’t want to catch even a glimpse of Brett. It was so easy to forget how it’d been between us while I was listening to him sing. It was so easy to want to forget after listening to the song he’d written. But that time in my past was something I was far from proud of.

“The band’s right in here,” Robert was saying, gesturing to an open door from which music and raucous laughter poured out. “They’ll be excited to meet you.”

My feet dug in suddenly and Lauren paused, glancing at me with a frown.

I pushed up onto my toes and whispered, “I’m not all that interested in meeting them. If you don’t mind, I’m going to hit the backstage bathroom and head out to the limo.”

“Can you wait a few minutes and I’ll go with you?”

“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

She touched my forehead. “Are you feeling alright angel? You look flushed.”

“I’m feeling great. I’ll show you exactly how great as soon as we get home.”

That did the trick. Her frown faded and her mouth curved. “I’ll hurry this along, then.” She looked at Robert Phillips and gestured at Arnoldo and Shawna. “Can you take them in? I need a minute.”

“Lauren, really . . .” I protested.

“I’m walking you over there.”

I knew that tone. I let her walk me the twenty feet to the bathroom. “I can take it from here, ace.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here. Go do your thing. I’ll be fine.”

She gave me a very patient look. “Camila, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I can manage. Seriously. The exit is right there.” I pointed down the hall to the open double doors beneath a lighted exit sign. Roadies were already transporting equipment out. “Angus is right out there, isn’t he?”

Lauren leaned her shoulder into the wall and crossed her arms.

I threw up my hands. “Okay. Fine. Have it your way.”

“You’re learning, angel,” she said with a smile.

Muttering under my breath, I went into the bathroom and took care of business. As I washed up at the sink, I looked into the mirror and winced. I had raccoon eyes from sweating so damn much and my pupils were dark and dilated.

“What does she see in you?” I asked myself derisively, thinking of how awesome she still looked. As hot and sweaty as she’d been, she looked none the worse for wear, while I looked damp and limp. But more so than my exterior, it was my personal failings I was thinking of. I couldn’t get away from them. Not while Brett was in the same building with us.

I rubbed a dampened square of paper towel under my eyes to get rid of the black smudges, then headed back out to the hall. Lauren waited a few feet away, talking with Robert, or more accurately, listening to him. The band’s manager was clearly excited about something.

Lauren spotted me and held up a hand to get me to wait a minute, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I gestured down the hall at the exit, then turned and headed that way before she could stall me. I hurried past the green room door, chancing a quick glance inside to see Shawna laughing with a beer in her hand. The room was packed and boisterous, and she looked like she was having a great time.

I made my escape with a sigh of relief, feeling ten times lighter the moment I left. Spotting Angus standing next to Lauren’s limo on the far side of the line of buses, I waved and set off toward him.

Looking back on the night, I was tantalized by how uninhibited Lauren had been. She sure as hell hadn’t been the woman who’d used mergers and acquisitions as parlance for getting me into bed.

I couldn’t wait to get her naked.

A burst of flame in the darkness to my right startled me. I jolted to a halt and watched Brett Kline lift a match to the clove cigarette hanging from his lips. As he stood in the shadows to the side of the exit, the flickering light of the flame caressed his face and threw me back in time for a long minute.

He glanced up, caught me in his gaze, and froze. We stared at each other. My heart kicked into a mad beat, a combination of excitement and apprehension. He cursed suddenly, shaking out the match as it burned his fingers.

I took off, struggling to maintain a casual pace as I made a beeline for Angus and the limo.

“Hey! Hold up,” Brett shouted. I heard his footsteps approaching at a jog, and adrenaline surged through me. A roadie was pushing a flat hand truck loaded with heavy gear and I darted around him, using him as cover to duck between two buses. I pressed my back flat against the side of one, standing between two open cargo compartments. I cringed into the shadows, feeling like a coward, but knowing I had nothing to say to Brett. I wasn’t the girl he knew anymore.

I watched him rush by. I decided to wait, give him time to look and give up. I was hyper aware of the time passing, of the fact that Lauren would be looking for me soon.

“Camila.”

I flinched at the sound of my name. Turning my head, I found Brett approaching from the other side. While I’d been looking to the right, he’d come up on the left.

“It is you,” he said roughly. He dropped his clove smoke on the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.

I heard myself saying something familiar. “You should quit.”

“So you keep telling me.” He approached cautiously. “You saw the show?”

I nodded and stepped away from the bus, backing up. “It was awesome. You guys sound really great. I’m happy for you.”

He took a step forward for every one of mine backward. “I was hoping I’d find you like this, at one of the shows. I had a hundred different ideas about how it might go if I saw you at one.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The tension between us was so thick it was hard to breathe.

The attraction was still there.

It was nothing like what I felt with Lauren. Nothing more than a shadow of that, but it was there nonetheless.

I retreated back out into the open, where the activity was high and there were lots of people milling around.

“Why are you running?” he asked. In the pool of light from a parking lot lamp, I saw him clearly. He was even better looking than before.

“I can’t . . .” I swallowed. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.” The intensity of his glare burned through me. “You stopped coming around. Didn’t say a word, just stopped showing up. Why?”

I rubbed at the knot in my stomach. What was I going to say? I finally grew a pair and decided I deserved better than to be one of the many chicks you fucked in a bathroom stall between sets?

“Why, Camila? We had something going and you just fucking disappeared.”

Turning my head, I looked for Lauren or Angus. Neither was anywhere in sight. The limo waited alone. “It was a long time ago.”

Brett lunged forward and caught me by the arms, startling me, briefly frightening me with the sudden aggressive movement. If we hadn’t been so near other people, it might have triggered panic.

“You owe me an explanation,” he bit out.

“It’s not—”

He kissed me. He had the softest lips, and he sealed them over mine and kissed me. By the time I registered what was happening, he’d tightened his grip on my arms and I couldn’t move away. Couldn’t push him away.

And for a brief span of time I didn’t want to.

I even kissed him back, because the attraction was still there and it soothed something hurting inside me to think I might’ve been more than a convenient piece of ass. He tasted like cloves, smelled seductively like hard working male, and he took my mouth with all the passion of a creative soul. He was familiar, in very intimate ways.

But in the end, it didn’t matter that he got to me still. It didn’t matter that we had a history, painful as it was for me. It didn’t matter that I was flattered and affected by the lyrics he’d written, that after six months of watching him enjoy other women while nailing me anywhere with a door that locked, it was me he was thinking about when he seduced screaming-for-it women from the stage.

None of that mattered because I was madly in love with Lauren Jauregui, and she was what I needed.

I wrenched away with a gasp—

—and faced Lauren charging at a dead run, her speed unchecked as she rammed into Brett and took him down.

*Sorry for the long wait. Forgot I was even converting this. Let me know if there are any mistakes. enjoy!!

#camren fanfiction #camren smut #camren #camren gip #camila cabello #lauren jauregui #laurengip #lauren and camila #camila and lauren #fanfic

Chapter 8

The sound of my bedroom door opening ended my forgettable dream, but it was the mouthwatering aroma of coffee that really woke me up. I stretched but kept my eyes closed, allowing the anticipation to build.

Lauren took a seat on the edge of the mattress, and a moment later her fingers drifted across my cheek. “How did you sleep?”

“I missed you. Is that coffee I smell for me?”

“If you’re good.”

My eyes popped open. “But you like me bad.”

her smile did crazy things to me. she’d dressed already in one of her amazingly sexy suits and looked much better this morning than she had the night before. “I like you bad with me. Tell me about this concert on Friday.”

“It’s a band called Six-Ninths. That’s all I know. Wanna go?”

“It’s not a question of whether I want to go. If you’re going, so am I.”

My brows rose. “Is that right? And what if I hadn’t asked you?”

she reached for my hand and gently twirled my promise ring around my finger. “Then you wouldn’t be going, either.”

“Excuse me?” I shoved my hair back. Noting the set look on her gorgeous face, I sat up. “Gimme that coffee. I want to be caffeinated when I kick your ass.”

Lauren grinned and handed the mug over.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I warned. “I’m seriously not happy with you telling me I can’t go somewhere.”

“We’re talking specifically about a rock concert and I didn’t say you couldn’t go, just that you can’t go without me. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but it is what it is.”

“Who says it’s rock? Maybe it’s classical. Or Celtic. Or pop.”

“Six-Ninths signed with Vidal Records.”

“Oh.” Vidal Records was run by Lauren's stepfather, Christopher Vidal Sr., but Lauren had controlling interest. I wondered how a boy grew up to take over her stepfather’s family business. I figured whatever the reason was, it was also why Lauren's half brother, Christopher Jr., hated her to the extreme.

“I’ve seen videos of their indie shows,” she said dryly. “I’m not risking you to a crowd like that.”

I sucked down a big gulp of coffee. “I get it, but you can’t order me around.”

“Can’t I? Shh.” she placed her fingers over my lips. “Don’t argue. I’m not a tyrant. I may occasionally have concerns, and you’ll be sensible about acknowledging them.”

I shoved her hand away. “‘Sensible’ being whatever you’ve decided is best?”

“Of course.”

“That’s bullshit.”

she stood. “We’re not going to fight over a hypothetical situation. You asked me to go to the concert with you on Friday and I said yes. There’s nothing to argue about.”

Setting my coffee on the nightstand, I kicked off the covers and slid out of bed. “I have to be able to live my life, lauren. I still have to be me or this won’t work.”

“And I have to be me. I’m not the only one who needs to compromise.”

That hit me hard. she wasn’t wrong—I had a right to expect her to give me my space, but she had a right to be understood as the woman she was. I had to make accommodations for the fact that she had triggers, too. “What if I want a girls’ night out clubbing with my friends?”

she caught my jaw in both hands and kissed my forehead. “You can take the limo and stick to clubs I own.”

“So you can have your security people spy on me?”

“Keep an eye on you,” she corrected, her lips sliding over my brow. “Is that so terrible, angel? Is it so unforgivable that I hate taking my eyes off you?”

“Don’t twist this around.”

she tilted my head back and looked down at me with hard, determined eyes. “You need to understand that even if you take the limo and stick to my clubs, I’m still going to go crazy until you get home. If that means you’re driven a little crazy with my safety precautions, isn’t that part of the give-and-take?”

I growled. “How do you make something unreasonable sound reasonable?”

“It’s a gift.”

Grabbing her very fine, very taut ass in my hands, I squeezed. “I need more coffee to deal with your gift, ace.”

* * *

It had become somewhat of a Wednesday tradition for Mark, his partner Steven, and me to go out to lunch. When Mark and I arrived at the little Italian restaurant he’d chosen and found Shawna waiting with Steven, I was really touched. Mark and I had a very professional relationship, but somehow we’d managed to make that personal and it meant a lot to me.

“I’m so jealous of your tan,” Shawna said, looking casual and cute in jeans, embellished tank top, and filmy scarf. “The sun just makes me red and gives me more freckles.”

“But you’ve got that beautiful hair to show for it,” I pointed out, admiring the deep red hue.

Steven ran a hand through his hair, which was the exact same color as his sister’s, and grinned. “The things one sacrifices to be hot.”

“How would you know?” Shawna shoved at his shoulder with a laugh, an effort that didn’t budge her brother even an inch. Where she was slender as a reed, Steven was big and strapping. I knew from talking to Mark that his partner was very hands-on with his construction business, which explained both his size and the rugged condition of his hands.

We entered the restaurant and were seated right away, thanks to the reservation I’d made when Mark had invited me to lunch. It was a small establishment, but it had great charm. Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the aroma of the food was so tantalizing it made my mouth water.

“I am so excited about Friday.” Shawna’s soft blue eyes were lit with anticipation.

“Yeah, she’ll take you,” Steven told me dryly, “and not her big brother.”

“Sooo not your scene,” she shot back. “You hate crowds.”

“Just gotta establish some personal space, that’s all.”

Shawna rolled her eyes. “You can’t be a bruiser everywhere.”

The talk about crowds had me thinking of Lauren and her protective streak. “Mind if I bring the girl I’m seeing?” I asked. “Or is that a buzzkill?”

“Not at all. Does she have a friend who’d like to come?”

“Shawna.” Mark was clearly shocked. And disapproving. “What about Doug?”

“What about him? You didn’t let me finish.” She looked at me and explained, “Doug’s my boyfriend. He’s in Sicily for the summer taking a culinary course. He’s a chef.”

“Nice,” I said. “I dig guys who can cook.”

“Oh, yeah.” She grinned, then aimed a glare at Mark. “He’s a keeper and I know it, so if your girl has a friend who’s fine with filling the empty seat with no possibility of a hookup, bring him along.”

I immediately thought of Cary and grinned.

But later that day, after Lauren and I had spent quality time with our personal trainers and had returned to her apartment for the night, I changed my mind. I got up from the couch where I’d been trying unsuccessfully to read a book and padded down the hall to her home office.

I found her frowning at whatever she was working on, her fingers flying over the keyboard. The glow of the monitor and the spotlight aimed at the photo collage on the wall were the only sources of illumination in the room, which left much of the large space in shadow. She sat in the semi dark, bare-chested and beautiful, alone and powerfully self-contained. As she always did while working, she looked solitary and unreachable. I felt lonely just looking at her.

The combination of the physical distance caused by my period and Lauren's understandable decision to sleep separately stirred my deepest insecurities, made me want to cling tighter and try harder to keep her attention focused on me.

That she was working instead of spending time with me shouldn’t have rankled—I knew how busy she was—but it did. I felt abandoned and needy, which told me I was regressing into familiar bad patterns. The simple fact was, Lauren and I were the best and worst things that had ever happened to each other.

she looked up and pinned me with her gaze. I watched her focus shift from work to me.

“Am I neglecting you, angel?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

I flushed, wishing she couldn’t read me so well. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“You should always come to me when you need something.” Pushing her keyboard drawer in, she patted the empty space on the desk in front of her and wheeled her chair back. “Come sit.”

A thrill rushed through me. I hurried over, making no effort to hide my eagerness. I hopped onto the desk in front of her and smiled wide when she rolled her chair forward to fill the space between my legs.

Draping her arms over my thighs, she hugged me around the hips and said, “I should’ve explained that I’m trying to clear my schedule so we can take off this weekend.”

“Really?” I pushed my fingers through her hair.

“I want you all to myself for a while. And I really, really need to fuck you for a very long time. Maybe the whole time.” her eyes closed as I touched her. “I miss being inside you.”

“You’re always inside me,” I whispered.

her mouth curved in a slow, wicked smile and her eyes opened. “You’re making me hard.”

“What’s new?”

“Everything.”

I frowned.

“We’ll get to that,” she said. “For now, tell me what you came in here for.”

I hesitated, still stuck on her cryptic comment.

“camila.” her firm tone focused me. “What do you need?”

“A date for Shawna. Uh . . . not really a date. Shawna’s got a man, but he’s out of the country. It’d just be better if we made it an even party of four.”

“You don’t want to ask Cary?”

“I thought of him first, but Shawna’s my friend. I thought you might want someone you know to come. You know, keep the dynamic even.”

“All right. I’ll see who’s free.”

I realized then that I hadn’t really expected her to take me up on my offer.

Some of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because she asked, “Is there more?”

“I . . .” How did I say what I was thinking without making an ass of myself? I shook my head. “No. Nothing.”

“camila.” her voice was stern. “Tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

An electric tingle coursed through me, as it always did when she took on that commanding tone. “I just thought you socialized for business and screwed random women occasionally.”

Saying that last part was hard. As lame as it was to be jealous of women in her past, I couldn’t help it.

“You didn’t think I had friends?” she asked, clearly amused.

“You’ve never introduced me to any,” I said sullenly, picking at the hem of my T-shirt.

“Ah . . .” Her amusement deepened, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “You’re my sexy little secret. Have to wonder what I was thinking when I made sure we were photographed kissing in public.”

“Well.” My gaze moved to the collage on the wall where that very picture could be found, a picture that had been plastered all over gossip blogs for days. “When you put it like that . . .”

Lauren laughed, and the sound spread through me in a heated rush of pleasure. “I’ve introduced you to a few of my friends when we’ve been out.”

“Oh.” I’d assumed everyone I had met at the events we’d attended were business associates.

“But keeping you all to myself isn’t a bad idea.”

I shot her a look and revisited the point I’d made when we argued about my going to Vegas instead of Phoenix. “Why can’t you be the one lying around naked waiting to be fucked?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I shoved at her shoulders and she hauled me into her lap, laughing.

I couldn’t believe how good her mood was and wondered what had set it off. When I glanced at her monitor, all I saw was a spreadsheet that made my eyes cross and a half-written email. But something was different about her. And I liked it.

“It’d be a pleasure,” she murmured, with her lips to my throat, “to lie around with a hard-on that you rode whenever the mood struck you.”

My sex clenched at the visual in my mind. “You’re making me horny.”

“Good. I like you that way.”

“So,” I mused, “if my fantasy is you providing around-the-clock stud servicing—”

“Sounds like reality to me.”

I nipped her on the jaw with my teeth.

she growled. “Want to play rough, angel?”

“I want to know what your fantasy is.”

Lauren adjusted me so that I was draped across her lap. “You.”

“It better be.”

she grinned. “In a swing.”

“Huh?”

“A sex swing, camila. Your gorgeous ass in a seat, feet in stirrups, legs spread wide, your perfect cunt wet and waiting.” she rubbed seductive circles into the small of my back. “Totally at my mercy and unable to do anything but take all the cum I can give you. You’d love it.”

I pictured her standing between my legs, naked and glistening with sweat, her biceps and pecs flexing as she rocked me back and forth, sliding me on and off her beautiful cock. “You want me helpless.”

“I want you bound. And not on the outside. I’m working my way in.”

“lauren—”

“I won’t ever take it further than you can handle,” she promised, her eyes glittering hotly in the muted lighting. “But I’ll take you to the edge.”

I squirmed, both aroused and disturbed by the thought of giving up that much control. “Why?”

“Because you want to be mine and I want to possess you. We’ll get there.” Her hand slid under my shirt and cupped my breast, her fingers rolling and tugging my nipple, igniting my body.

“Have you done that before?” I asked breathlessly. “The swing?”

her face shuttered. “Don’t ask questions like that.”

Oh God. “I just—”

Her mouth sealed over mine. she nipped my lower lip, then thrust her tongue into my mouth, holding me where she wanted me with her fist in my hair. The dominance of the act was undeniable. Hunger surged through me, a need for her I couldn’t control or fight. I whimpered, my chest aching at the thought of her putting that much time and effort into gaining pleasure from someone else.

lauren’s hand shoved between my legs and cupped my sex. I jerked, surprised at her aggression. She made a low sound of reassurance and massaged me, rubbing my tender flesh with the consummate skill I’d grown so addicted to.

she broke the kiss, moving her arm to arch my back and lift my breast to her mouth. she bit my nipple through the cotton, then wrapped her lips around the aching peak, sucking so strongly I felt the echo in my core.

I was under siege, my brain short-circuiting as desire pumped through me. her fingers slid beneath the edge of my panties to touch my clit, the feel of flesh on flesh just what I needed. “lauren.”

She lifted her head and watched with dark eyes as she made me come for her. I cried out when the tremors rippled through me, the release of tension after days of deprivation almost too much to bear. But she didn’t let up. she stroked my sex until I came again, until violent shivers racked my body and I squeezed my legs shut to stop the onslaught.

When she pulled her hand away, I sagged, boneless and breathing heavily. I curled into her, my face pressed into her throat, my arms wrapping around her neck. My heart felt as if it had swelled in my chest. Everything I felt for her, all the torment and love, overwhelmed me. I clawed at her, trying to get closer.

“Shh.” She held me tighter, squeezing me until it was hard to breathe. “You’re questioning everything and driving yourself crazy.”

“I hate this,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t need you this much. It’s not healthy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Her heart beat strongly beneath my ear. “And I take responsibility for that. I’ve taken the lead with some things and given it to you with others. That’s left you confused and worried. I’m sorry about that, angel. It’ll be easier moving forward.”

I leaned back so I could search her face. My breath caught when our eyes met and she stared back at me unflinchingly. I comprehended the difference then—there was a calm, solid serenity about her. Seeing that settled something inside me, too. My breathing slowed and evened; my anxiety lessened.

“That’s better.” She kissed my forehead. “I was going to wait until the weekend to talk about this, but now works. We’re going to come to an agreement. Once it’s met, there’s no turning back. Understand?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m trying.”

“You know the way I am. You’ve seen me at my worst. Last night, you said you want me anyway.” she waited for my nod. “That’s where I fucked up. I didn’t trust you to make that decision for yourself and I should have. Because I didn’t, I’ve been too cautious. Your past scares me, camila.”

The thought of Nathan indirectly taking Lauren away from me was so painful, my knees drew even closer into my chest. “Don’t give her that power.”

“I won’t. And you have to realize there’s more than one answer for everything. Who says you need me too much? Who says it’s not healthy? Not you. You’re unhappy because you’re holding yourself back.”

“Men don’t—”

“Fuck that. Neither of us is typical. And that’s okay. Turn off that voice in your head that’s screwing you up. Trust me to know what you need, even when you think I’m wrong. And I’ll trust your decision to be with me despite my faults. Got it?”

I bit my lower lip to hide its trembling and nodded.

“You don’t look convinced,” she said softly.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose myself in you, lauren. I’m scared I’ll lose the part of me I worked so hard to get back.”

“I’d never let that happen,” she promised fiercely. “What I want is for us both to feel safe. What you and I have together shouldn’t be draining us like this. It should be the one rock-solid thing we both count on.”

My eyes stung with tears at the thought. “I want that,” I whispered. “So much.”

“I’m going to give it to you, angel.” Lauren bent her dark head and brushed her lips over mine. “I’m going to give it to both of us. And you’re going to let me.”

* * *

“Things seem to be looking better this week,” Dr. Petersen said when Lauren and I arrived for our Thursday night therapy appointment.

We sat near each other this time, with our hands clasped together. Lauren's thumb caressed my knuckles, and I looked at her and smiled, feeling settled by the contact.

Dr. Petersen flipped open the protective case of his tablet and settled more comfortably in his seat. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss?”

“Tuesday was tough,” I said quietly.

“I imagine so. Let’s talk about Monday night. Can you tell me what happened, camila?”

I told him about waking up from my own nightmare to find myself trapped in lauren’s. I walked him through that night and the following day.

“So you’re sleeping separately now?” Dr. Petersen asked.

“Yes.”

“Your nightmares”—he looked up at me—“how often do you have them?”

“Rarely. Prior to dating Lauren, it’d been almost two years since my last one.” I watched him set the stylus down and start typing quickly. Something about his somberness made me anxious. “I love her,” I blurted.

Lauren stiffened beside me.

Dr. Petersen’s head came up, and he studied me. He glanced at Lauren, then back to me. “I don’t doubt it. What made you say that, Camila?”

I shrugged awkwardly, hyper aware of Lauren's gaze on my profile.

“She wants your approval,” Lauren said grimly.

her words rubbed over me like sandpaper.

“Is that true?” Dr. Petersen asked me.

“No.”

“The hell it isn’t.” The rasp in Lauren's voice was pronounced.

“It’s not,” I argued, although I’d needed her to say it aloud for me to understand that. “I just . . . It’s just the truth. That’s the way I feel.”

I looked at Dr. Petersen. “We have to make this work. We’re going to make this work,” I stressed. “I just want to know that you’re on the same page. I need to know that you understand that failure isn’t an option.”

“camila.” He smiled kindly. “You and Lauren have a lot to work through, but it’s certainly not insurmountable.”

My breath left me in a rush of relief. “I love her,” I said again, with a decisive nod.

Lauren surged to her feet, her grip crushingly tight on my hand. “If you’ll excuse us a minute, Doctor.”

Confused and a little worried, I stood and followed her out to the empty reception area. Dr. Petersen’s receptionist had already gone home, and we were his last appointment of the day. I knew from my mother that these evening appointments came at a premium. I was grateful that Lauren was willing to pay for them not once but twice a week.

The door shut behind us, and I faced her. “lauren, I swear it’s not—”

“Hush.” she cupped my face in both hands and kissed me, her mouth moving softly but urgently over mine.

Startled, it took me the length of two heartbeats to slide my hands beneath her jacket and grip her lean waist. When her tongue stroked deep into my mouth, a low moan escaped me.

she pulled back and I looked up at her, seeing the same gorgeous businesswoman in a dark suit that I’d first met, but the look in her eyes . . .

My throat burned.

The power and scorching intensity, the hunger and need. Her fingertips brushed over my temples, across my cheeks, down to my throat. she tilted my jaw up and her lips pressed gently against mine. she didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. I got it.

She linked our fingers and led me back inside.

Chapter 7

My back hit the mat with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. Stunned, I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath.

Parker Smith’s face came into view. “You’re wasting my time. If you’re going to be here, be here. One hundred percent. Not a million miles away in your head somewhere.”

I grabbed the hand he extended to me, and he yanked me to my feet. Around us, a dozen more of Parker’s Krav Maga students were hard at work. The Brooklyn-based studio was alive with noise and activity.

He was right. My thoughts were still stuck on my mom and the bizarre way she’d reacted when we returned to the Crossfire after lunch.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ve got something on my mind.”

He moved like lightning, tagging me first on one knee, then my shoulder with rapid-fire slaps. “Do you think an attacker is going to wait until you’re alert and ready before he comes after you?”

I crouched, forcing myself to focus. Parker crouched as well, his brown eyes hard and watchful. His shaved head and café au lait skin gleamed beneath the overhead fluorescent lighting. The studio was in a converted warehouse, which had been left rough for both economic reasons and atmosphere. My mother and stepfather were paranoid enough to have Clancy accompany me to my classes. The neighborhood was presently undergoing revitalization, which I thought was encouraging but they thought was troubling.

When Parker came at me again, I blocked him. The tagging came fast and furious then, and I pushed all other thoughts aside until later, when I was home.

When lauren came over about an hour later, she found me in the bath surrounded by vanilla-scented candles. she undressed to join me, even though her damp hair told me she’d already showered after spending time with her own personal trainer. I watched her strip, riveted. The play of muscles beneath her skin and the inherent gracefulness in the way she moved sent a delicious sense of contentment sliding through me.

she climbed into the deep oval tub behind me, her long legs sliding in on either side of mine. her arms wrapped around me, and then she surprised me by lifting me up and back, so that I was sitting on her lap and my legs were draped over her.

“Lean into me, angel,” she murmured. “I need to feel you.”

I sighed with pleasure, sinking into the hardness of her powerful body as she cradled me. My aching muscles softened in surrender, eager as always to become completely pliable to her touch. I loved moments like this, when the world and our emotional triggers were far away. Moments when I felt the love she wouldn’t profess for me.

“Soaking more bruises?” she asked with her cheek pressed to mine.

“My fault. My head wasn’t in the game.”

“Thinking about me?” she purred, nuzzling against my ear.

“I wish.”

she paused, then switched gears. “Tell me what’s bugging you.”

I loved how easily she could read me, then revise and revisit her approach on the fly. I tried to be as adaptable for her. Really, flexibility was a requirement in a relationship between two high-maintenance people.

Linking my fingers with her, I told her about my mother’s weird reaction after lunch.

“I almost expected to turn around and see my dad or something. I was wondering . . . You have security cameras that cover the front of the building, don’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll look into it.”

“It’s a ten-minute window of time, max. I just want to see if I can figure out what went on.”

“Consider it done.”

I tilted my head back and kissed her jaw. “Thank you.”

her lips pressed to the top of my shoulder. “Angel, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Including talking about your past?” I felt her tense and mentally kicked myself. “Not right this second,” I hastened to add, “but sometime. Just tell me we’ll get there.”

“Have lunch with me tomorrow. In my office.”

“Are you going to talk about it then?”

lauren exhaled harshly. “camila.”

I turned my face away and released her, disappointed with her evasion. Reaching for the edges of the tub, I prepared to get out and away from the man who somehow made me feel more connected to another human being than I’d ever been, yet impossibly distant as well. Being with her fucked with my head, made me doubt the very things I’d been sure of just moments before. Rinse and repeat.

“I’m done,” I muttered, blowing out the nearest candle. Smoke curled up and away, as intangible as my grasp on the man I loved. “I’m getting out.”

“No.” she cupped my breasts, restraining me. Water lapped around us, as agitated as I was.

“Let go, lauren.” I caught her wrists to pull her hands away.

she buried her face in my neck, obstinately holding on. “We’ll get there. Okay? Just— We’ll get there.”

I deflated, feeling little of the triumph I had hoped to feel when I’d first asked and anticipated her answer.

“Can we give it a rest tonight?” she asked gruffly, still clinging tight. “Give it all a rest? I just want to be with you, all right? Order something in for dinner, watch TV, hold you when I sleep. Can we do that?”

Realizing something was seriously off, I twisted to face her. “What’s wrong?”

“I just want some time with you.”

My eyes stung with tears. There was more she wasn’t telling me, so much more. Our relationship was swiftly becoming a minefield of words left unsaid and secrets not shared. “Okay.”

“I need it, camila. You and me with no drama.” her wet fingertips brushed across my cheek. “Give me that. Please. Then give me a kiss.”

Turning around, I straddled her hips and cupped her face in my hands. I angled my head to find the perfect approach and pressed my lips to her. I started out soft and slow, licking and suckling. I tugged on her bottom lip, then coaxed her to forget our problems with teasing strokes of my tongue along her.

“Kiss me, damn it,” she growled, her hands bracketing my spine and kneading restlessly. “Kiss me like you love me.”

“I do,” I promised, breathing the words into her. “I can’t help it.”

“Angel.” Pushing her hands into my damp hair, she held me how she wanted me and kissed me senseless.

* * *

After dinner, lauren worked in bed, propping her back against my headboard and her laptop on a lap desk. I sprawled on the bed on my belly, facing the TV and kicking my feet in the air.

“Do you know every line in this movie?” she asked, luring me to turn my attention away from Ghostbusters to look at her. she wore black boxer briefs and nothing else.

I loved that I got to see her that way—relaxed, comfortable, intimate. I wondered if Corinne had ever seen this view. If so, I could imagine her desperation to see it again, because I was desperate to never lose the privilege.

“Maybe,” I conceded.

“And you have to say them all aloud?”

“Got a problem with that, ace?”

“No.” Amusement lit her eyes and curved her mouth. “How many times have you seen it?”

“A gazillion times.” I curved around and rose up on my hands and knees. “Want more?”

A dark winged brow rose.

“Are you the keymaster?” I purred, crawling forward.

“Angel, when you’re looking at me like that, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

I looked at her beneath lowered eyelids and breathed, “Do you want this body?”

Grinning, she set her lap desk aside. “All the damn time.”

Straddling her legs, I climbed her torso. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and growled, “Kiss me, subcreature.”

“That’s not how that line goes. And what happened to me being a pleasure god? Now I’m a subcreature?”

I pressed my cleft against the hard ridge of her cock and rolled my hips. “You’re whatever I want you to be, remember?”

lauren gripped my rib cage and tipped her head back. “And what’s that?”

“Mine.” I nipped her throat with my teeth. “All mine.”

* * *

I couldn’t breathe. I tried to scream, but something blocked my nose . . . covered my mouth. A high-pitched moan was the only sound to escape, my frantic calls for help trapped inside my mind.

Get off me. Stop it! Don’t touch me. Oh, God . . . please don’t do that to me.

Where was Mama? Ma-ma!

Nathan’s hand covered my mouth, mashing my lips. The weight of his body pressed down on me, squashing my head into the pillow. The more I fought, the more excited he became. Panting like the animal he was, he lunged into me, over and over . . . trying to shove herself into me. My panties were in the way, protecting me from the tearing pain I’d lived through too many times to count.

As if he’d read my mind, he growled in my ear, “You haven’t felt pain yet. But you will.”

I froze. Awareness hit me like a bucket of ice water. I knew that voice.

lauren. No!

My blood roared in my ears. Sickness spread through my gut. Bile flooded my mouth.

It was worse, so much worse, when the person trying to rape you was someone you trusted with everything you had.

Fear and fury blended in a potent rush. In a moment of clarity, I heard Parker’s barked commands. I remembered the basics.

I attacked the woman I loved, the man whose nightmares blended with mine in the most horrific way. We were both sexual-abuse survivors, but in my dreams I was still a victim. In hers, she’d become the aggressor, viciously determined to inflict the same agony and humiliation on her attacker as she herself had suffered.

My stiffened fingers rammed into lauren’s throat. she reared back with a curse and shifted, and I slammed my knee between her legs. Doubled over, she fell away from me. I rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a thud. Scrambling to my feet, I threw myself toward the door to the hallway.

“camila!” she gasped, awake and aware of what she’d almost done to me in her sleep. “God. camila. Wait!”

I bolted out the door and ran into the living room.

Finding a darkened corner, I curled into a ball and struggled to breathe, my sobs echoing through the apartment. I pressed my lips to my knee when the light came on in my bedroom and didn’t move or make a sound when lauren stepped into the living room an eternity later.

“camila? Jesus. Are you okay? Did I . . . hurt you?”

Atypical sexual parasomnia was what Dr. Petersen called it, a manifestation of lauren’s deep psychological trauma. I called it hell. And we were both trapped in it.

her body language broke my heart. her normally proud bearing was weighted with defeat, her shoulders slumped and her head bowed. she was dressed and carrying her overnight bag. she stopped by the breakfast bar. I opened my mouth to speak; then I heard a metallic clink against the stone countertop.

I’d stopped her the last time; I’d made her stay. This time, I didn’t have it in me.

This time, I wanted her to go.

The barely audible latching of the front door lock reverberated through me. Something inside me died. Panic welled. I missed her the moment she was gone. I didn’t want her to stay. I didn’t want her to go.

I don’t know how long I sat there in the corner before I found the strength to stand and move to the couch. I vaguely registered that dawn was lighting the night sky when I heard the distant sound of Cary’s cell phone ringing. Shortly after that, he came running into the living room.

“camila!” He was on me in a minute, crouching in front of me with his hands on my knees. “How far did she go?”

I blinked down at him. “What?”

“jauregui called. Said she’d had another nightmare.”

“Nothing happened.” I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek.

“You look like something happened. You look . . .”

I caught his wrists when he surged to his feet with a curse. “I’m okay.”

“Shit, camila. I’ve never seen you look like this. I can’t stand it.” He took a seat beside me and pulled me into his shoulder. “Enough is enough. Cut her off.”

“I can’t make that decision now.”

“What are you waiting for?” He forced me back to glare at me. “You’re going to wait too long and then this won’t be just another bad relationship, it’ll be one that permanently fucks you up.”

“If I give up on her, she’ll have no one. I can’t—”

“That’s not your problem. camila . . . Goddamn it. It’s not your responsibility to save her.”

“It’s— You don’t understand.” I wrapped my arms around him. Burying my face in his shoulder, I cried. “she’s saving me.”

* * *

I threw up when I found Laurens’s key to my apartment lying on the breakfast bar. I barely made it to the sink.

When my stomach was empty, I was left with pain so agonizing it was crippling. I clung to the edge of the counter, gasping and sweating, crying so hard I wondered how I’d make it through another five minutes, let alone the rest of the day. The rest of my life.

The last time lauren had returned my keys to me, we’d broken up for four days. It was impossible not to think that repeating the gesture signified a more permanent break. What had I done? Why hadn’t I stopped her? Talked to her? Made her stay?

My smartphone signaled an incoming text. I stumbled to my purse and dug it out, praying it was lauren. she’d talked to Cary three times already, but she’d yet to contact me.

When I saw her name on the screen, a sweet, sharp ache pierced my chest.

I’m working from home today, her message read. Angus will be waiting out front to give you a ride to work.

My stomach cramped again with dread. It had been a tremendously difficult week for both of us. I could understand why she’d just given up. But that understanding was wrapped in a gut-gnawing fear so cold and insidious that goose bumps swept up my arms.

My fingers shook as I texted her back: Will I see you tonight?

There was a long pause, long enough that I was about to demand a yes or no answer when she sent: Don’t count on it. I have my appt with Dr. Petersen and a lot of work to do.

My grip tightened on my phone. It took me three attempts before I was able to type: I want to see you.

For the longest time, my phone sat silently. I was reaching for my landline in a near panic when she replied: I’ll see what I can do.

Oh God . . . Tears made it hard for me to see the letters. she was done. I knew it deep down in my heart. Don’t run. I’m not.

It seemed like forever before she replied: You should.

I debated calling in sick after that, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I had been down that road too many times. I knew I could so easily fall back into old self-destructive habits to dull pain. It would kill me to lose lauren, but I’d be dead anyway if I lost myself.

I had to hang on. Get through. Get by. One step at a time.

And so I climbed into the back of the Bentley when I was supposed to, and while Angus’s grim face only made me worry more, I locked it down and slid into the autopilot mode of self-preservation that would get me through the hours ahead.

My day passed in a blur. I worked hard and focused on my job, using it to keep me from going crazy, but my heart wasn’t in it. I spent my lunch hour running an errand, unable to tolerate the thought of eating or making small talk. After my shift was over, I almost blew off going to my Krav Maga class, but I stuck it out and gave a similar amount of focus to the drills as I’d given to my work. I had to keep moving forward, even if I was heading in a direction I couldn’t bear to go.

“Better,” Parker said, during a break. “You’re still off, but you’re better than last night.”

I nodded and wiped the sweat from my face with a towel. I’d started Parker’s classes solely as a more intense alternative to my usual gym visits, but last night had shown me that personal safety was more than just a convenient side benefit.

The tribal tattoos that banded his biceps flexed as she lifted a water bottle to his lips. Because she was left-handed, his simple gold wedding band caught the light and my eye. I was reminded of the promise ring on my right hand and I looked down at it. I remembered when Lauren had given it to me and how she’d said that the diamond-crusted Xs wrapping around the roped gold were representative of her “holding on” to me. I wondered if he still thought that way; if she still thought it was worth it to try. God knew I did.

“Ready?” Parker asked, tossing his empty bottle in the recycle bin.

“Bring it.”

He grinned. “There she is.”

Parker still worked me over, but it wasn’t from lack of trying on my part. I was in it every step of the way, venting my frustration with good, healthy exercise. The few victories I managed to earn spurred my determination to fight for my rocky relationship, too. I was willing to put in the time and effort to be there for lauren, to be a better and stronger person so we could get through our issues. And I was going to tell her that, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

When my hour was over, I cleaned up and waved good-bye to my classmates and then shoved at the push bar of the exit door and stepped out into the still-warm evening air. Clancy had already brought the car around to the door and was leaning against the fender in a pose that only a moron would think was casual. Despite the heat, he wore a jacket, which concealed his sidearm.

“Things moving along?” He straightened to open the door for me. As long as I’d known him, he’d kept his dark blond hair in a military crew cut. It added to the impression of his being a very somber man.

“Working on it.” Sliding into the backseat, I told Clancy to drop me off at lauren’s. I had my own key and I was prepared to use it.

On the drive over, I wondered if lauren had gone to see Dr. Petersen for her appointment or if she’d blown it off. she’d agreed to individual therapy only because of me. If I wasn’t part of the equation anymore, she might not see any reason to make the effort.

I entered the understated and elegant lobby of lauren’s apartment building and checked in with the front desk. It wasn’t until I was alone in her private elevator that the nerves really hit me. she’d placed me on her approved list weeks before, a gesture that meant so much more to her and me than it would to others because lauren’s home was her sanctuary, a place she allowed few visitors to see. I was the only lover she’d ever entertained there and the only person, aside from her household staff, who had a key. Yesterday I wouldn’t have doubted my welcome, but now . . .

I exited into a small foyer decorated with checkerboard marble tiles and an antique console bearing a massive arrangement of white calla lilies. Before I unlocked her front door, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for however I might find her. The one previous time she’d attacked me in her sleep, it had shattered her. I couldn’t help but fear what the second time had done to her. I was terrified that her parasomnia might be the wedge that drove us apart.

But the moment I entered her apartment, I knew she wasn’t home. The energy that thrummed through a space when she occupied it was markedly absent.

Lights that were activated by my movements came on when I entered the expansive living room, and I forced myself to settle in as if I belonged there. My room was down the hall and I went to it, pausing on the threshold to absorb the weirdness of seeing my bedroom replicated in Lauren’s place. The duplication was uncanny, from the color on the walls to the furniture and fabrics, but its existence was more than a little unnerving.

Lauren had created it as my safe room, a place for me to run to when I needed some space. I supposed I was running to it now, in a way, by using it instead of hers.

Setting my workout bag and purse on the bed, I showered and changed into one of the Cross Industries T-shirts Lauren had set aside for me. I tried not to think about why she still wasn’t home. I’d just poured a glass of wine and turned on the living room television when my smartphone rang.

“Hello?” I answered, unfamiliar with the number on the nameless Caller ID.

“Camila? It’s Shawna.”

“Oh, hey, Shawna.” I tried not to sound disappointed.

“I hope it’s not too late to call.”

I looked at the screen of my phone, noting that it was almost nine o’clock. Jealousy mingled with my concern. Where was she? “No worries. I’m just watching TV.”

“Sorry I missed your call last night. I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to see if you’d be up for going to a Six-Ninths concert on Friday.”

“A what concert?”

“Six-Ninths. You haven’t heard of ’em? They were indie until late last year. I’ve been following them for a while and they gave their e-mail list first dibs, so I scored tickets. Thing is, everyone I know likes hip-hop and dance pop. Not to say you’re my last hope, but . . . well, you’re my last hope. Tell me you like alt rock.”

“I like alt rock.” My phone beeped. Incoming call. When I saw it was Cary, I let it go to voice mail. I didn’t think I’d be on the phone with Shawna too long and I could call him back.

“How did I know that?” She laughed. “I’ve got four tickets if you’ve got someone you’d like to bring along. Meet up at six? Grab something to eat first? The show starts at nine.”

Lauren walked in just as I answered, “You’ve got a date.”

she stood just inside the door with her jacket slung over one arm, the top button of her dress shirt undone, and a briefcase in her hand. Her mask was in place, showing no emotion whatsoever at finding me sprawled on her couch in her T-shirt with a glass of her wine on her table and her television on. she raked me with a head-to-toe glance, but nothing flickered in those beautiful eyes. I suddenly felt awkward and unwanted.

“I’ll get back to you about the other ticket,” I told Shawna, sitting up slowly so I didn’t flash her. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’m just glad you’re coming! We’re going to have a great time.”

We agreed to talk the next day and hung up. In the interim, Lauren set her briefcase down and tossed her jacket over the arm of one of the gilded chairs flanking the ends of the glass coffee table.

“How long have you been here?” she asked, yanking the knot of her tie loose.

I stood. My palms grew damp at the thought that she might kick me out. “Not long.”

“Have you eaten?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t been able to eat much all day. I’d gotten through the session with Parker courtesy of a protein drink I’d picked up during my lunch hour.

“Order something.” she walked past me toward the hallway. “Menus are in the kitchen drawer by the fridge. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

“Do you want something?” I asked her to retreat.

she didn’t stop or look at me. “Yes. I haven’t eaten, either.”

I’d finally settled upon a local deli boasting organic tomato soup and fresh baguettes—figuring my stomach could maybe handle that—when my phone rang again.

“Hey, Cary,” I answered, wishing I were home with him and not about to face a painful breakup.

“Hey, Jauregui was just here looking for you. I told her to go to hell and stay there.”

“Cary.” I sighed. I couldn’t blame him; I’d do the same thing for him. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Where are you?”

“At her place, waiting for her. she just showed. I’ll probably be home sooner rather than later.”

“You kicking her to the curb?”

“I think that’s on her agenda.”

He exhaled audibly. “I know it’s not what you’re ready for, but it’s for the best. You should call Dr. Travis ASAP. Talk it out with him. He’ll help you put things in perspective.”

I had to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m— Yeah. Maybe.”

“You okay?”

“Ending it face-to-face has dignity, at least. That’s something.”

My phone was pulled from my hand.

Lauren held my gaze as she said, “Good-bye, Cary,” then powered off my phone and set it on the counter. Her hair was damp and she wore black pajama bottoms that hung low on her hips. The sight of her hit me hard, reminding me of all that I stood to lose when I lost her—the breathless anticipation and desire, the comfort and intimacy, the ephemeral sense of rightness that made everything worthwhile.

“Who’s the date?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh. Shawna—Mark’s sister-in-law—has concert tickets for Friday.”

“Have you figured out what you want to eat?”

I nodded, tugging at the thigh-length hem of my shirt because I felt self-conscious.

“Get me a glass of whatever you’re drinking.” she reached around me and picked up the menu I’d set out on the counter. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

It was a relief to move over to the cabinet that held the wineglasses. “Soup. Crusty bread.”

As I tugged the cork out of the bottle of merlot I had left on the counter, I heard her call the deli and speak in that firm, raspy voice of her that I loved from the moment I’d first heard it. she ordered tomato soup and chicken noodle, which caused a painful tightness in my chest. Without being told, she’d ordered what I wanted. It was another of the many serendipitous things that always made me feel like we were destined to end up in the same place, together, if only we could make it that far.

I passed her the glass I’d poured for her and watched as she took a drink. she looked tired, and I wondered if she’d stayed up all night like I had.

Lowering the glass, she licked the lingering trace of wine off her lips. “I went to your place looking for you. I expect Cary told you.”

I rubbed at the painful ache in my chest. “I’m sorry . . . about this and—” I gestured at what I was wearing. “Damn it. I didn’t plan this well.”

she leaned back into the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “Go on.”

“I figured you’d be home. I should’ve called first. When you weren’t here, I should have just waited for another time instead of making myself at home.” I rubbed at my stinging eyes. “I’m . . . confused about what’s going on. I’m not thinking straight.”

Her chest expanded on a deep breath. “If you’re waiting for me to break up with you, you can stop waiting.”

I grabbed onto the kitchen island to steady myself. That’s it? That’s the end?

“I can’t do it,” she said flatly. “I can’t even say I’ll let you walk, if that’s why you’re here.”

What? I frowned in confusion. “You left your key at my place.”

“I want it back.”

“Lauren.” My eyes closed and tears tracked down my cheeks. “You’re an ass.”

I walked away, moving toward my bedroom with a quick and slightly weaving stride that had nothing to do with the small amount of wine I’d sipped.

I had scarcely cleared the doorway of my room when she grabbed my elbow.

“I won’t follow you inside,” she said gruffly, her head bent to reach my ear. “I promised you that. But I’m asking you to stay and talk to me. At least listen. You came all this way—”

“I have something for you.” It was hard for me to get the words past my tight throat.

she released me and I hurried to my purse. When I faced her, I asked, “Were you breaking up with me when you left the key on my counter?”

she filled the doorway. Her hands were extended above her shoulders, her knuckles white from the force with which she gripped the frame, as if she were physically restraining herself from following me. The pose displayed her body beautifully, defining every muscle, allowing the drawstring waistband of her pants to cling to her hip bones. I wanted her with every breath I took.

“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” she admitted. “I just wanted you to feel safe.”

My grip tightened around the object in my hand. “You ripped my heart out, Lauren. You have no idea what seeing that key lying there did to me. How bad it hurt me. No idea.”

Her eyes squeezed shut and her head bowed. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I thought I was doing the right thing—”

“Fuck that. Fuck your damn chivalry or whatever the hell you think that was. Don’t do it again.” My voice took on an edge. “I’m telling you right now and I mean it like I’ve never meant anything before—you ever give me my keys back again, we’re done. There’s no coming back from that. Do you understand?”

“I do, yes. I’m not sure you do.”

My breath left me in a shaky exhalation. I approached her. “Give me your hand.”

Her left hand stayed on the doorjamb, but her right lowered and extended toward me.

“I never gave you the key to my place; you just took it.” I cupped her hand between both of mine, placing my gift in her palm. “I’m giving it to you now.”

Stepping back, I released her, watching as she looked down at the gleaming monogrammed fob with my apartment key on it. It was the best way I could think of to show her that it belonged to her and that it was given freely.

her hand fisted, closing tightly around my gift. After a long minute, she looked up at me and I saw the tears that wet her face.

“No,” I whispered, my heart breaking further. I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. “Please . . . don’t.”

lauren caught me up, her lips pressing to mine. “I don’t know how to walk away.”

“Shh.”

“I’ll hurt you. I already am. You deserve better—”

“Shut up, lauren.” I climbed her and wrapped my legs around her waist, holding on.

“Cary told me how you looked . . .” she began to shake violently. “You don’t see what I’m doing to you. I’m breaking you, camila—”

“That’s not true.”

she sank to her knees on the floor, clasping me tightly. “I’ve trapped you in this. You don’t see it now, but you knew from the beginning— You knew what I would do to you, but I wouldn’t let you run.”

“I’m not running anymore. You’ve made me stronger. You gave me a reason to try harder.”

“God.” her eyes were haunted. she sat, stretching her legs out, pulling me closer. “We’re so fucked up, and I’ve handled everything all wrong. We’re going to kill each other with this. We’ll tear each other apart until there’s nothing left.”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear any more of that shit. Did you go to Dr. Petersen?”

her head fell back against the wall and her eyes closed. “Yes, damn it.”

“Did you tell him about last night?”

“Yes.” her jaw clenched. “And he said the same thing he started on last week. That we’re in too deep. We’re drowning each other. He thinks we need to pull back, date platonically, sleep separately, spend more time together with others and less time alone.”

It would be better, I thought. Better for our sanity, better for our chances. “I hope he’s got a Plan B.”

lauren opened her eyes and looked at my scowling face. “That’s what I said. Again.”

“So we’re fucked up. Every relationship has issues.”

she snorted.

“Seriously,” I insisted.

“We are going to sleep separately. That’s something I let go too far.”

“Separate beds or separate apartments?”

“Beds. That’s all I can stand.”

“All right.” I sighed and rested my head on her shoulder, so grateful that she was in my arms again and that we were together. “I can deal. For now.”

her throat worked on a hard swallow. “When I came home and found you here—” her arms tightened around me. “God, camila. I thought Cary was lying about you not being home, that you just didn’t want to see me. Then I thought you might be out . . . moving on.”

“You’re not that easy to get over, lauren.” I didn’t think I’d ever get over her. she was in my blood. I straightened so she could see my face.

she placed her hand over her heart, the hand with the key. “Thank you for this.”

“Don’t let that go,” I warned again.

“Don’t regret giving it to me.” she pressed her forehead to mine. I felt the warmth of her breath on my skin and thought she might have whispered something, but I didn’t catch it if she did.

It didn’t matter. We were together. After the long awful day, nothing else was important.

Chapter 6

I’d just barely finished repacking my bag for the trip home when I heard the unmistakable sound of lauren’s voice in the living room. A rush of adrenaline pumped through my veins. lauren had yet to say a word to me about what I’d done, even though we’d talked the night before after Cary and I had gotten back from clubbing and again this morning when I’d woken up.

Feigning ignorance was slightly nerve-racking. I’d wondered if Clancy had even managed to do what I had asked of him, but when I double-checked with my stepdad’s bodyguard, he assured me that all was going as I’d planned.

On bare feet, I padded over to the open door of my bedroom just in time to see Cary walk out the door of our suite. lauren stood alone in the small foyer, her inscrutable gaze on me as if her’d expected me to appear at any moment. her wore loose-fitting jeans and a black T-shirt, and I’d missed the sight of her so much my eyes stung.

“Hi, angel.”

The fingers of my right hand toyed restlessly with the material of my black yoga pants. “Hi, ace.”

her beautifully etched lips thinned for a moment. “Is there a particular meaning behind that endearment?”

“Well . . . you ace everything you do. And it’s the nickname of a fictional character I have a crush on. You remind me of him sometimes.”

“I’m not sure I like you having a crush on anyone but me, fictional or not.”

“You’ll get over it.”

Shaking her head, her started toward me. “Like I’ll get over the sumo wrestler you have shadowing me?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I hadn’t been specific about appearance when I’d asked Clancy to arrange for someone he knew in the Phoenix area to guard lauren the way Sheila was guarding me. I’d just asked for a man and provided a relatively small list of things to intercede with. “Where’s Cary going?”

“Downstairs to play with the credit I arranged for him.”

“We’re not leaving right away?”

her slowly closed the distance between us. There was no mistaking the danger inherent in the way her stalked me. It was visible in the set of her shoulders and the gleam in her eyes. I might’ve been more worried if the sinuousness of her stride hadn’t been so blatantly sexual. “You on your period?”

I nodded.

“Then I’ll just have to come in your mouth.”

My brows rose. “Is that right?”

“Oh, yeah.” her mouth curved. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll take care of you first.”

her lunged and caught me up, surging into the bedroom and toppling us onto the bed. I gasped and her mouth was on mine, the kiss deep and ravenous. I was swept away by her passion and the beloved feel of her weight pressing me into the mattress. her smelled so good. her skin was so warm.

“I missed you,” I moaned, wrapping my arms and legs around her. “Even though you’re seriously irritating sometimes.”

lauren growled. “You’re the most exasperating, infuriating woman I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, well, you pissed me off. I’m not a possession. You can’t—”

“Yes, you are.” her nipped my earlobe with her teeth, causing a sharp sting that made me cry out. “And yes, I can.”

“Then you are, too. And I can, too.”

“So you demonstrated. Have any idea how difficult it is to do business with someone when they can’t get within three feet of you?”

I froze, because I’d made the three-feet rule applicable only to women. “Why would someone need to be that close to you?”

“To point out areas of interest on design schematics spread out in front of me and to fit alongside me within camera range for a teleconference—two things you made very difficult.” Lifting her head, her looked down at me. “I was working. You were playing.”

“I don’t care. If it’s good for me, it’s good for you.” But I was secretly pleased that lauren had put up with the inconvenience, just as I had.

Reaching down, her caught me by the back of the thigh and yanked my legs wider apart. “You’re not going to get a hundred percent equality in this relationship.”

“The hell I’m not.”

His hips settled into the opening she’d made. she rocked against me, rubbing the thick ridge of his erection against my sex. “You’re not,” she repeated, his hands pushing into my hair to grip my scalp and hold me in place.

Rolling his hips, she massaged my hypersensitive clit. The seam of his jeans was in the perfect place to stir my ever-simmering lust for her. Arousal spiked in my blood. “Stop it. I can’t think when you do that.”

“Don’t think. Just listen, jauregui. Who I am and what I’ve built makes me a target. You know the score, because you know what it’s like to live with wealth and the attention it attracts.”

“The guy at the bar wasn’t a threat.”

“That’s debatable.”

Irritation burned through me. It was the perceived lack of trust that bugged me, mostly because she didn’t trust me with whatever secrets she was keeping, and I was dealing with that. “Get off me.”

“I’m comfortable right here.” she hitched her hips, rubbing against me.

“I’m pissed at you.”

“I can tell.” she didn’t stop moving. “That won’t stop you from coming.”

I shoved at her hips, but she was too heavy to budge. “I can’t when I’m mad!”

“Prove it.”

she was way too smug, which made my anger swell. Since I couldn’t turn my head, I closed my eyes, shutting her out. she didn’t care. she kept on flexing against me. The clothes between us and the lack of penetration made me even more aware of the elegant fluidity of her body.

The man knew how to fuck.

lauren didn’t just shove her big dick in and out of a woman. she worked her with it, exploiting friction, changing angles and depth of penetration. The nuances of her skill were lost when I was writhing beneath her and focused only on the sensations she stoked in my body. But I felt them all now.

I fought against the pleasure, but I couldn’t stifle a moan.

“That’s it, angel,” she coaxed. “Feel how hard I am for you? Feel what you do to me?”

“Don’t use sex to punish me,” I complained, my heels digging into the mattress.

she stilled for a moment, and then her mouth was suckling at my throat, her body undulating as if she were fucking me through our clothes. “I’m not mad, angel.”

“Whatever. You’re pushing me around.”

“And you’re driving me insane. You know what happened when I realized what you’d done?”

I glared at her through slitted eyes. “What?”

“I got hard.”

My eyes opened wide.

“Inconveniently and publicly.” she cupped my breast in her hand, her thumb stroking over the hardened point of my nipple. “I had to drag out a finished discussion while I waited for it to go down. It turns me on when you challenge me, camila.” her voice lowered and became raspier, dripping with sex and sin. “It makes me want to fuck you. For a very, very long time.”

“God.” My hips pumped upward, my core tightening with the need to come.

“And since I can’t,” she purred, “I’m going to get you off like this, then watch you return the favor with your mouth.”

A whimper escaped me, my mouth watering at the promise of pleasing her that way. she was always so attuned to me when we made love. The only time she really let go and focused on her own pleasure was when I went down on her.

“That’s it,” she murmured, “keep rubbing your cunt against me like that. Christ, you’re so damn hot.”

“lauren.” My hands were gliding all over her flexing back and buttocks, my body arching and grinding into her. I came with a long and drawn-out moan, the tension breaking in a rush of relief.

her mouth covered mine, drinking in the sounds I made as I shivered beneath her. I clutched her hair, kissing her back.

she rolled us so that she was beneath me, her hands going to her button fly and ripping it open. “Now, jauregui.”

I scrambled down the bed, as eager to taste her as she was to have me do so. The moment she shoved her boxer briefs down, I had her penis in my hands, my lips flowing over the wide crest.

Groaning, lauren grabbed a pillow and shoved it under her head. My gaze met her and I pulled her deeper.

“Yes,” she hissed, the fingers of her right hand tangling in my hair. “Suck it hard and fast; I want to come.”

I breathed in the scent of her, feeling the satiny softness of her heated flesh on my tongue. Then I took her at her word.

Hollowing my cheeks, I took her to the back of my throat, then pulled up to the crown. Over and over. Focusing on suction and speed, as greedy for her orgasm as she was, spurred by the abandoned sounds she made and the sight of her fingers clawing restlessly at the comforter. her hips churned, her hand in my hair guiding my pace.

“Ah, God.” she watched me with dark, hot eyes. “I love the way you suck me off. Like you can’t get enough.”

I couldn’t. I didn’t think I ever could. her pleasure meant so much to me, because it was real and raw. For her, sex had always been staged and methodical. she couldn’t hold back with me because she wanted me beyond reason. Two days without me and she was . . . undone.

I pumped her with my fist, feeling the thick veins throbbing beneath the smooth skin. A ragged sound tore from her throat and salty warmth spurted on my tongue. she was close, her face flushed and her lips parted with gasping breaths. Sweat misted my brow. My excitement mounted along with her. she was completely at my mercy, near mindless with the need to climax, muttering filthy sexy things about what she was going to do to me the next time she fucked me.

“That’s it, angel. Milk it . . . make me come for you.” her neck arched, her breath exploding from her lungs. “Fuck.”

she came as I had—hard and brutal. Semen burst from the tip of her cock in a thick, hot rush that I struggled to swallow. she growled my name, her hips pumping upward into my working mouth, taking what she needed from me, giving me all she had until she was emptied.

Then she curled toward me, pulling me into a strangling embrace that pinned me to her heaving chest. For long moments, she just held me. I listened as her raging heartbeat slowed and her breathing returned to normal.

Finally, she spoke with her lips in my hair. “Needed that. Thank you.”

I smiled and snuggled into her. “My pleasure, ace.”

“I missed you,” she said softly, her lips pressing to my brow. “So damn much. And not just for this.”

“I know.” We needed this—the physical closeness, the frenzied touching, the rush of orgasm—to release some of the wild, overwhelming emotions that affected us when we were together. “My dad’s coming out to visit next week.”

she stilled. Lifting her head, she looked at me wryly. “You have to tell me that while my dick’s still hanging out?”

I laughed. “Caught you with your pants down?”

“Hell.” she pressed her lips to my forehead, then rolled to her back and righted her clothes. “You have an idea of how you want the first meeting to go? Dinner out or in? Your place or mine?”

“I’ll cook at my place.” I stretched, then tugged the wrinkles out of my shirt.

she nodded, but her vibe changed. My sated, grateful lover of a moment before was replaced by the grim-faced man who’d been around more frequently lately.

“Would you prefer something different?” I asked.

“No. It’s a good plan and what I would’ve suggested. He’ll feel comfortable there.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.” she propped her head in one hand and looked down at me, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “I’d rather not hit him in the face with my money if we can help it.”

I took a deep breath. “I hadn’t considered that. I just thought I’d be less anxious about making a mess in my own kitchen than in yours. But you’re right. It’ll be okay, though, lauren. Once he sees how you feel about me, he’ll be good with us being together.”

“I only care what he thinks if it affects how you feel. If he doesn’t like me and that changes something between us—”

“You’re the only one who can do that.”

she gave a curt nod, which didn’t help me feel better about what she was feeling. A lot of men got nervous meeting their girlfriend’s parents, but lauren wasn’t like other women. she didn’t rattle. Usually. I wanted her and my dad to be loose and easy around each other, not tense and defensive.

I changed the subject. “Did you get everything worked out in Phoenix?”

“Yes. One of the project managers noted some anomalies in accounting, and she was right to push me to look deeper into it. Embezzling isn’t something I tolerate.”

I winced, thinking of lauren’s father, who’d bilked investors out of millions before killing himself. “What’s the project?”

“A golf resort.”

“Nightclubs, resorts, luxury living, vodka, casinos . . . with a chain of gyms thrown in to keep fit for the high life?” I knew from checking out the Cross Industries website that lauren also had software and games divisions, and a growing social media platform for young urban professionals. “You’re a pleasure god in more ways than one.”

“Pleasure god?” her eyes sparkled with humor. “I spend all my energy worshipping you.”

“How did you get to be so rich?” I blurted out, pricked by the memory of Cary’s insinuations about how lauren could’ve amassed so much at such a young age.

“People like to have fun, and they’ll pay for the privilege.”

“That’s not what I meant. How did you get Cross Industries started? Where did you get the capital to get things going?”

her eyes took on a speculative gleam. “Where do you think I got it?”

“I have no idea,” I told her honestly.

“Blackjack.”

I blinked. “Gambling? Are you kidding?”

“No.” she laughed and tightened her arms around me.

But I couldn’t see lauren as a gambler. I’d learned, thanks to my mom’s third husband, that gambling could become a very nasty and insidious disease that caused total lack of control. I just couldn’t see someone as rigidly controlled as lauren finding anything appealing about something so dependent on luck and chance.

Then it hit me. “You count cards.”

“When I played,” she agreed. “I don’t anymore. And the contacts I made over card tables were as instrumental as the money I made.”

I tried to absorb that information, struggled with it, then let it go for the moment. “Remind me not to play cards with you.”

“Strip poker could be fun.”

“For you.”

she reached down and squeezed my ass. “And for you. You know how I get when you’re naked.”

I shot a pointed glance down at my fully dressed body. “And when I’m not naked.”

lauren’s grin flashed, dazzling and entirely unapologetic.

“Do you still gamble?”

“Every day. But only in business and with you.”

“With me? With our relationship?”

her gaze was soft on my face, filled with a sudden tenderness that made my throat tight. “You’re the greatest risk I’ve ever taken.” her pressed her lips gently to mine. “And the greatest reward.”

* * *

When I got to work Monday morning, I felt like things were finally settling back into their natural pre-Corinne rhythm. lauren and I were dealing with adjusting to my period, which had never been an issue for either of us in any previous relationship we’d had, but was in ours because sex was how she showed me what she was feeling. she could say with her body what she couldn’t with words, and my lust for her was how I proved my faith in us, something she needed to feel connected to me.

I could tell her I loved her over and over again, and I know it affected her when I did, but she needed the total surrender of my body—a display of trust she knew meant a great deal because of my past—to really believe it.

As she’d told me once, she had been the recipient of many I love yous over the years, but she’d never believed them because they hadn’t been backed up with truth, trust, and honesty. The words meant little to her, which was why he refused to say them to me. I tried not to let her see how it hurt me that she wouldn’t say them. I figured that was an adjustment I’d have to make to be with her.

“Good morning, camila.”

I glanced up from my desk and found Mark standing by my cubicle. His slightly crooked smile was always a winner. “Hey. I’m ready to roll when you are.”

“Coffee first. You up for a refill?”

Grabbing my empty mug off my desk, I stood. “You bet.”

We headed toward the break room.

“You look like you got a tan,” Mark said, glancing over at me.

“Yeah, I did a little sun lounging over the weekend. It was good to be lazy and do nothing. Actually, that’s probably one of my favorite things to do, period.”

“I’m envious. Steven can’t sit still for too long. He always wants to drag me somewhere for something.”

“My roommate’s the same way. It’s exhausting how he runs around.”

“Oh, before I forget.” He gestured for me to enter the break room first. “Shawna wants you to get in touch. She’s got concert tickets for some new rock band. I think she wants to see if you’d want them.”

I thought of the attractive red-haired waitress I’d met the week before. She was Steven’s sister, and Steven was Mark’s longtime partner. The two men had met in college and had been together ever since. I really liked Steven. I was pretty sure I’d really like Shawna, too.

“Are you okay with me reaching out to her?” I had to ask, because she was—for all intents and purposes—Mark’s sister-in-law and Mark was my boss.

“Of course. Don’t worry. It won’t be weird.”

“All right.” I smiled and hoped to add another girlfriend to my new life in New York. “Thanks.”

“Thank me with a cup of coffee,” he said, pulling out a mug from the cupboard and handing it to me. “You make it taste better than I do.”

I shot him a look. “My dad uses that line.”

“Must be true, then.”

“Must be a standard guy finagle,” I shot back. “How do you and Steven divvy up coffee making?”

“We don’t.” He grinned. “There’s a Starbucks on the corner by our place.”

“I’m sure there’s a way to call that cheating, but I haven’t had enough caffeine to think of it yet.” I passed over his filled mug to him. “Which probably means I shouldn’t share the idea that just came to me.”

“Go for it. If it really sucks, I can hold it against you forever.”

“Gee. Thanks.” I held my mug between both hands. “Would it work to market the blueberry coffee like tea instead? You know, the coffee in a chintz teacup and saucer with maybe a scone and some clotted cream in the background? Give it a high-end, midafternoon snack sort of treatment? Throw in a fabulously handsome Englishman to sip it with?”

Mark’s lips pursed as he thought about it. “I think I like it. Let’s go run it by the creatives.”

* * *

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Las Vegas?”

I sighed inwardly at the high note of irritated anxiety in my mother’s voice and adjusted my grip on my desk phone receiver. I’d barely returned my butt to my chair when the phone had rung. I suspected if I checked my voice mail, I’d find a message or two from her. When she got worked up about something, she couldn’t let it go. “Hi, Mom. I’m sorry. I planned on calling you at lunch and catching up.”

“I love Vegas.”

“You do?” I thought she hated anything remotely related to gambling. “I didn’t know that.”

“You would’ve if you’d asked.”

There was a hurt note in my mother’s breathy voice that made me wince. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said again, having learned as a child that repeated apologies went a long way with her. “I needed to spend some downtime with Cary. We can talk about a future trip to Vegas, though, if you’d like to go sometime.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun? I’d like to do fun things with you, camila.”

“I’d like that, too.” My eyes went to the picture of my mother and Stanton. She was a beautiful woman, one who radiated a vulnerable sensuality to which men responded helplessly. The vulnerability was real—my mom was fragile in many ways—but she was a man-eater, too. Men didn’t take advantage of my mom; she walked all over them.

“Do you have plans for lunch? I could make a reservation and come get you.”

“Can I bring a co-worker?” Megumi had hit me up with a lunch invitation when I’d come in, promising to regale me with the tale of her blind date.

“Oh, I’d love to meet the people you work with!”

My mouth curved with genuine affection. My mom drove me nuts a lot, but at the end of the day, her biggest fault was that she loved me too much. Combined with her neurosis, it was a maddening flaw, but one motivated by the best of intentions. “Okay. Pick us up at noon. And remember, we only get an hour, so it’ll have to be close by and quick.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’m excited! See you soon.”

* * *

Megumi and my mother took to each other right away. I recognized the familiar starry-eyed look on Megumi’s face when they met, because I’d seen it so often over the years. Monica Stanton was a stunning woman, the kind of classic beauty you couldn’t help but stare at because you couldn’t believe anyone could be that perfect. Plus, the royal purple hue of the wingback she’d elected to sit in was an amazing backdrop for her golden hair and blue eyes.

For her part, my mom was delighted by Megumi’s fashion sense. While my wardrobe choices leaned more toward traditional and ready-to-wear, Megumi favored unique combinations and color, much like the décor of the trendy café near Rockefeller Center my mom had taken us to.

The place reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, with its gilt and jewel-toned velvets used on uniquely shaped furniture. The chaise Megumi was perched on had an exaggerated curved back, while my mother’s wingback had gargoyles for feet.

“I’m still trying to figure out what’s wrong with him,” Megumi went on. “I was looking, let me tell you. I mean a guy that great shouldn’t be slumming it with blind dates.”

“Hardly slumming it,” my mom protested. “I’m sure he’s wondering how he lucked out with you.”

“Thanks!” Megumi grinned at me. “He was seriously hot. Not lauren jauregui hot, but hot all the same.”

“How is lauren, by the way?”

I didn’t take my mom’s question lightly. She was aware that lauren knew about the abuse I’d suffered as a child, and she’d taken the news hard. It was her greatest shame that she hadn’t known what was going on under her own roof, and her guilt was enormous, as well as entirely undeserved. She hadn’t known because I’d hidden it. Nathan had made me fear what he’d do if I ever told anyone. Still, my mother was anxious about lauren’s knowing. I hoped that she’d soon come to realize that lauren didn’t hold it against her any more than I did.

“she’s working hard,” I answered. “You know how it is. I’ve taken up a lot of her time since we hooked up, and I think she’s paying for it now.”

“You’re worth it.”

I took a large gulp of my water when I felt the nearly overwhelming urge to tell her that my dad was coming to visit. She’d be an ally in convincing him of lauren’s affection for me, but that was a selfish reason to say anything. I had no idea how she would react to Victor’s being in New York, but it was highly possible she’d be distressed, and that would make everyone’s life hell. Whatever her reasons, she preferred to have no contact with him whatsoever. I couldn’t ignore how she’d managed to avoid seeing or talking to him since I’d become old enough to communicate with him directly.

“I saw a picture of Cary on the side of a bus yesterday,” she said.

“Really?” I sat up straighter. “Where?”

“On Broadway. A jeans ad, I think it was.”

“I saw one, too,” Megumi said. “Not that I paid any attention to what he was wearing. That man is fine.”

The conversation made me smile. My mother was adept at admiring men. It was one of the many reasons they adored her—she made them feel good. Megumi was more than her match in the guy-appreciation department.

“he’s been getting recognized on the street,” I said, glad that in this case we were talking about an ad and not a tabloid candid with me. The gossips thought it was so juicy that lauren jauregui’s girlfriend lived with a sexy male model.

“Of course,” my mom said, with a slight note of chastisement. “You didn’t doubt she would eventually?”

“I’d hoped,” I qualified. “For his sake. It’s a sad fact that male models don’t make as much or work as often as the women do.” Although I’d expected Cary would break through somehow. Emotionally, he couldn’t afford not to. He’d learned to put so much value on his looks that I didn’t think he could allow himself to fail. It was one of my deepest fears that his career choice would come back to haunt him in ways neither of us could bear.

My mother took a delicate sip of her Pellegrino. The café specialized in cacao-laced menu items, but she was careful not to waste her daily calorie allotment on one meal. I was less cautious. I’d ordered a soup and sandwich combination plus a dessert that was going to cost me at least an extra hour on the treadmill later. I excused the indulgence with a mental reminder that I was on my period, which was a carte blanche chocolate zone in my opinion.

“So,” Monica smiled at Megumi, “will you be seeing your blind date again?”

“I hope so.”

“Darling, don’t leave it to chance!”

As my mom started doling out her wisdom in regard to managing men, I sat back and enjoyed the show. She was of the firm belief that every woman deserved to have a wealthy man to dote on her, and for the first time in forever, she wasn’t concentrating her matchmaking efforts on me. While I was worried about how my dad and lauren would hit it off, I had no concerns about my mom’s feelings on the matter. We both thought I was with the right guy for me, although for different reasons.

“Your mom rocks,” Megumi said, when Monica ducked into the ladies’ room to freshen up before we left. “And you look just like her, lucky you. How bad would it suck to have a mom who’s hotter than you are?”

Laughing, I told her, “I’ll have to drag you along with us again. This worked out great.”

“I’d like that.”

When it was time to go, I looked at Clancy and the town car waiting at the curb for us and realized I wanted to walk off some of my lunch before I got back to work. “I think I’m going to hoof it back,” I told them. “I ate too much. You two go on without me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Megumi said. “I could use the air, hot as it is. That canned air in the office makes my skin dry.”

“I’ll come, too,” my mom offered.

I eyed her delicate heels skeptically, but then again, my mom wore nothing but heels. For her, walking in those was probably the same as walking in flats was to me.

We headed back to the Crossfire at the standard stride rate for Manhattan, which was something of a steady, purposeful clip. While weaving around human obstacles was usually part of the process, it was far less of an issue with my mom in the lead. Men moved reverently off to the side for her, then followed her with their eyes. In her simple, sexy wrap dress of ice blue, she looked cool and refreshing in the humid heat.

We’d just turned the corner to reach the Crossfire when she came to an abrupt halt that caused Megumi and me to crash into the back of her. She stumbled forward, wobbling, and I barely caught her by the elbow before she teetered over.

I looked at the ground to see what had held her up, but when I didn’t see anything I looked at her. She was staring at the Crossfire in a daze.

“Jesus, Mom,” I urged her out of the flow of pedestrians. “You’re white as a sheet. Is the heat getting to you? Do you feel dizzy?”

“What?” Her hand went to her throat. Her dilated gaze remained fixed to the Crossfire.

Turning my head, I followed her line of sight, trying to see whatever it was that she did.

“What are you two looking at?” Megumi asked, frowning down the street.

“Mrs. Stanton.” Clancy approached, having abandoned the town car he’d been driving at a safe but discreet distance behind us. “Is everything all right?”

“Did you see—?” she began, looking to him with her question.

“See what?” I demanded, as his head snapped up and his trained gaze raked the length of the street. The absoluteness of his focus sent a shiver down my spine.

“Let me drive you three the rest of the way,” he said quietly.

The entrance to the Crossfire was literally across the street, but something in Clancy’s tone brooked no argument. We all climbed in, with my mother taking the front seat.

“What was that about?” Megumi asked after we’d been dropped off and had moved into the cool interior of the building. “Your mom looked like she’d seen a ghost.”

“I have no idea.” But I felt ill.

Something had frightened my mother. It was going to drive me crazy until I found out what it was.

Chapter 5

As far as death traps go,” Cary said, “this one’s pretty swank.”

I shook my head as I preceded him into the main cabin of lauren’s private jet. “You are not going to die. Flying is safer than driving.”

“And you don’t think the airline industry paid for the compilation of those statistics?”

Pausing to smack him in the shoulder with a laugh, I glanced at the amazingly opulent interior and felt more than a little awe. I’d seen my share of private planes over the years, but as usual, lauren went to lengths to which few could afford to go.

The cabin was spacious, with a wide center aisle. The underlying palette was neutral with accents of chocolate brown and ice blue. Deep, swiveling bucket seats with tables were positioned on the left, while a sectional sofa sat on the right. Each chair had a private entertainment console beside it. I knew a bedroom would be found at the back of the plane and a luxurious bathroom or two.

A male flight attendant took my duffel bag and Cary’s, then gestured for us to take a seat at one of the groupings of chairs that had a table. “Miss. jauregui is expected within the next ten minutes,” he said. “In the meantime, can I serve you something to drink?”

“Water for me, please.” I glanced at my watch. It was just past seven thirty.

“Bloody Mary,” Cary ordered, “if you’ve got it.”

The steward smiled. “We’ve got everything.”

Cary caught my look. “What? I haven’t had dinner. The tomato juice will hold me over until we eat, and the alcohol will help the Dramamine kick in faster.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I protested.

I turned to look out the window at the evening sky, and my thoughts settled on lauren, as usual. she’d been quiet all day, starting with when she’d woken up. The ride to work had been made in silence, and when my day ended at five, she’d called just long enough to tell me that Angus would take me home alone, then drive me and Cary to the airport where she’d meet us.

I opted to walk home instead, since I hadn’t hit the gym the night before and didn’t have time to work out prior to the flight. Angus had cautioned that lauren wouldn’t like me refusing the ride, even though I’d done it politely and with good reason. I think Angus thought I was still upset with him for giving Corinne a ride, which I kind of was. I was sorry to say that a tiny part of me hoped he’d feel bad about it. A bigger part of me hated that I could be that petty.

As I’d walked through Central Park, taking a meandering path through tall trees, I had determined that I wasn’t going to be small over a guy. Not even lauren. I wasn’t going to let my frustration with him get in the way of having a good time in Vegas with my best friend.

Halfway home, I’d stopped and turned, picking out lauren’s penthouse high above Fifth Avenue. I wondered if she was there, packing and planning for a weekend without me. Or if she was still at work, wrapping up the week’s pressing business.

“Uh-oh,” Cary sang sang, as the flight attendant returned with a tray laden with our drinks. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The hell-on-wheels look.” He clinked his tall, slender glass against the side of my squat tumbler. “Wanna talk about it?”

I was about to reply when lauren stepped onto the plane. she looked grim and carried a briefcase in one hand and a duffel in the other. After passing her bag over to the attendant, she paused by me and Cary, giving my roommate a cursory nod before brushing the back of her fingers across my cheek. The simple touch shot through me like a surge of electricity. Then she was gone, slipping into a cabin in the back and shutting the door.

I scowled. “she’s so damn moody.”

“And seriously hot. What she does for that suit . . .”

Most suits made the woman. lauren did things to a three-piece suit that should’ve been illegal.

“Don’t distract me with her looks,” I groused.

“Give her a blowjob. That’s a guaranteed mood improver.”

“Spoken like a man.”

“You expected something different?” Cary grabbed the frosty glass bottle holding the excess water that wouldn’t fit in my crystal tumbler. “Check this out.”

He showed me the label, which was branded to the Cross Towers and Casino. “Now that’s swank.”

My lips twisted wryly. “For the whales.”

“What?”

“Casino high rollers. Gamblers who don’t blink an eye at dropping a hundred grand or more on the turn of a card. They get a lot of comps to lure them in—food, suites, and travel to and fro. My mom’s second husband was a whale. It’s one of the reasons why she left him.”

He shook his head at me. “The shit you know. So this is a company jet?”

“One of five,” the attendant said, returning with a fruit and cheese tray.

“Jesus,” Cary muttered. “That’s a damned fleet.”

I watched as he dug a travel packet of Dramamine out of his pocket and washed the pills down with his Bloody Mary.

“Want some?” he asked, tapping at the wrapper on the table.

“Nope. Thanks.”

“You gonna deal with Mr. Hot and Moody?”

“Not sure. I may just pull out my e-reader.”

He nodded. “Probably safer for your sanity.”

Thirty minutes later, Cary was snoring lightly in his fully reclined seat, his ears covered with noise-canceling headphones. I watched him for a long minute, appreciating the sight of him looking restful and relaxed, the shallow grooves around his mouth softening in slumber.

Then I got up and went to the cabin I’d seen lauren disappear into earlier. I debated knocking, then thought against it. she was shutting me out elsewhere; I wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to do so now.

she glanced up when I walked in, her face showing no surprise at my abrupt appearance. she sat at a desk, listening to a woman who was speaking to her via satellite video. her coat was hung on the back of her chair and her tie was loosened. After that one brief glance at me, she resumed her conversation.

I started stripping.

My tank top came off first, followed by my sandals and jeans. The woman continued talking, mentioning “concerns” and “discrepancies,” but lauren’s eyes were on me—hot and avid.

“We’ll pick this up in the morning, Allison,” she interjected, hitting a button on the keyboard that darkened the screen just before my bra landed on her head.

“I’m the one with PMS,” I said, “but you’re the one having mood swings.”

she pulled my bra into her lap and leaned back in her chair, setting her elbows on the armrests and steepling her fingers together. “And you’re putting on a striptease to improve my mood?”

“Ha! Men are so predictable. Cary suggested I blow you to make you happy. No . . . don’t get excited. That’s not going to happen.” I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties and rocked back on my heels. I had to give her points for keeping her eyes on mine and not on my breasts. “I think you owe me, ace. Big-time. I’ve been an exceptionally understanding girlfriend under the circumstances, don’t you think?”

her brow arched.

“I mean, I’d like to see what you would do,” I went on, “if you came over to my place and caught an ex-boyfriend stepping outside still tucking her shirt in her pants. Then, when you came upstairs, you found my couch messed up and me fresh from a shower.”

lauren’s jaw tightened. “Neither of us wants to see what I’d do.”

“So we’re both agreed that I’ve been pretty damn awesome under extraordinary circumstances.” I crossed my arms, knowing how that would showcase the assets she loved. “You’ve made it very clear how you’d choose to punish me. How would you choose to reward me?”

“Is it my choice?” she drawled, her eyes heavy-lidded.

I smiled. “No.”

she set my bra on her keyboard and unfolded from the chair in a leisurely, graceful rise. “Then that’s your reward, angel. What do you want?”

“I want you to stop being grumpy, for starters.”

“Grumpy?” her lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “Well, I woke up without you, and now I face two more mornings of the same.”

I dropped my arms to my sides and went to her, placing my palms flat to her broad chest. “Is that really all it is?”

“camila.” she was such a strong, physically powerful woman, and yet she could touch me with such reverence.

I ducked my head, knowing something in my voice had given me away. she was too perceptive.

Cupping my jaw in her hands, lauren tipped my head back and searched my face. “Talk to me.”

“I feel like you’re pulling away.”

A low growl rumbled through the air between us. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. That doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you.”

“I feel it, lauren. There’s distance between us that wasn’t there before.”

her hands slid down to my neck, wrapping around it. “There’s no distance. You’ve got me by the throat, camila.” her grip tightened fractionally. “Can’t you feel that?”

I sucked in a quick, tight breath. Agitation spurred my heartbeat, a physical response to fear that came entirely from within and not from lauren, who I knew absolutely would never physically harm me or put me in danger.

“Sometimes,” she said huskily, watching me with searing intensity, “I can hardly breathe.”

I might’ve broken free if not for her eyes, which revealed such yearning and turmoil. she was making me feel the same loss of power, the same sense of being dependent on someone else for every breath I took.

So I did the opposite of running. Tilting my head back, I surrendered, and the tingles of fear left me in a rush. I was learning that lauren was right about my desire to give up control to her. Doing so soothed something inside me, some need I hadn’t realized I possessed.

There was a long pause, filled only by her breathing. I sensed her warring with her emotions and wondered what they were, wondered why she was so conflicted.

she released the tension with a deep exhalation. “What do you need, camila?”

“You—a mile high.”

her hands slid over my shoulders and squeezed, then caressed the length of my arms. her fingers linked with mine and she nuzzled our temples together. “What is it with you, sex, and modes of transportation?”

“I’ll take you anyway I can get you,” I told her, repeating the sentiment she’d once said to me. “It’ll probably be next weekend before I’m good to go again, thanks to my period.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s the idea.”

Reaching for her coat, she wrapped it around me and ushered me out of the cabin.

* * *

“Oh, God.” My hands fisted the sheets beneath me, my back arching as lauren pinned my hips to the bed and fluttered her tongue across my clit. My skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, my vision blurring as my core tightened viciously in preparation for orgasm. My pulse was thrumming, racing in unison with the steady hum of the jet’s engines.

I’d come twice already, as much from the sight of her dark head between my legs as from her wickedly gifted mouth. My panties were ruined, literally shredded by her grip, and she was still fully dressed.

“I’m ready.” I pushed my fingers into her hair, feeling the dampness at the roots. her restraint was costing her. she was always so careful with me, taking the time to make sure I was soft and wet before filling me too full with her long, thick cock.

“I’ll decide when you’re ready.”

“I want you inside—” The plane shook suddenly, then dropped, leaving me weightless but for the suction of lauren’s mouth. “lauren!”

I trembled through another climax, my body arching with the need to feel her in me. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I heard a voice making an announcement over the comm system, but I couldn’t register the words.

“You’re so sensitive now.” Lifting her head, she licked her lips. “You’re coming like crazy.”

I gasped. “I’d come harder if you were inside me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It doesn’t matter if I get a little sore now,” I argued. “I’ll have days to recover.”

Something sparked in the depths of her gaze. she rose up. “No, camila.”

My postorgasmic haze faded at the harshness of her voice. I levered up onto my elbows and watched her begin to strip, her moves quick and economically graceful.

“My choice,” I reminded.

In short order she removed her vest, tie, and cuff links. her voice was too even when she asked, “You really want to play that card, angel?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“It’ll take more than that for me to hurt you deliberately.” her shirt and slacks followed more slowly, a striptease that was far more seductive than mine had been. “For us, pain and pleasure are mutually exclusive.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant.” she straightened from shoving her boxer briefs down, then knelt on the foot of the bed and crawled toward me like a sleek panther on the prowl. “You ache without my cock inside you. You’ll say anything to have me there.”

“Yes.”

she hovered over me, her hair falling in a dark curtain around her face, her big body casting a shadow over mine. Tilting her head, she lowered her mouth and lightly traced the seam of my lips with the tip of her tongue. “You crave it. You feel empty without it.”

“Yes, damn you.” I gripped her lean hips, arching upward to try to feel her body against mine. I never felt closer to her than when we were making love, and I needed that closeness now, needed to feel like we were okay before we spent the weekend without each other.

she settled between my legs, her erection lying hard and hot between the lips of my sex. “It hurts you a little when I push all the way in, and there’s no help for that—you have a tight little cunt and I cram you full. Sometimes I lose control and get rough, and there’s no help for that, either. But don’t ever ask me to hurt you deliberately. I can’t.”

“I want you,” I breathed, rubbing my wet cleft shamelessly along the heated length of her cock.

“Not yet.” she moved, rolling her hips to find me with the broad head of her penis. she pushed gently against me, parting me, spreading me open as she slipped just the tip inside. I writhed against the tight fit, my body resisting. “You’re not ready yet.”

“Fuck me. God . . . just fuck me!”

she reached down with one hand and grabbed my hip, stemming my frenzied attempts to push up and take more of her. “You’re swollen.”

I fought her hold. My nails dug into the tight curves of her ass and I tugged her against me. I didn’t care that it might hurt. If I didn’t get her in me I thought I’d lose my mind. “Give it to me.”

lauren slid her hand into my hair, fisting it to hold me where she wanted me. “Look at me.”

“lauren!”

“Look at me.”

I stilled at the command in her voice. I stared up at her, my frustration melting as I watched a slow, gradual transformation sweep over her handsome face.

her features tightened first, as if she were pained. A wince knit her brow. her lips parted with a gasp, her chest beginning to heave with labored breaths. A tic began in her jaw, the muscle spasming violently. her skin grew hot, searing me. But what mesmerized me most was her piercing blue eyes and the unmistakable vulnerability that sifted through them like smoke.

My pulse quickened in response to the change in her. The mattress shifted as she dug her feet in, her body bracing—

“camila.” she jerked, then started coming, spurting hotly into me. her pleasured groan vibrated against me, her cock sinking through the sudden flood of semen to bottom out inside me. “Ah . . . Christ.”

All the while she looked at me, showing me her face when she usually hid in the crook of my neck. I saw what she’d wanted me to see . . . the point she’d wanted to make—

There was nothing between us.

Rolling her hips, she rubbed out the rest of her orgasm, emptying herself inside me, lubricating me so there would be no pain or resistance. she released my hip and let me rock upward; let me seek the perfect pressure on my clit to set me off. With her eyes still on mine, she reached behind her to claim my wrists. One at a time, she lifted my arms over my head, restraining me.

Pinned to the mattress by her grip, her weight, and her unflagging erection, I was completely at her mercy. she began to thrust, stroking through the trembling walls of my sex with the thickly veined length of her big cock. Claiming me. Possessing me.

“Crossfire,” she wherpered, reminding me of my safe word.

I moaned as my sex rippled in climax, tightening and squeezing, milking her greedily.

“Feel that?” lauren’s tongue traced the shell of my ear, her breath gusting in humid pants. “You’ve got me by the throat and the balls. Where’s the distance, angel?”

For the next three hours, there was none.

* * *

The hotel manager threw open the double doors to our suite and Cary gave a long, low whistle.

“Hell yeah,” he said, hustling me into the room with a hand on my elbow. “Look at the size of this place. You could do cartwheels in here.”

He was right, but I’d have to wait until the morning to prove it. My legs were still shaky from my induction into the Mile-High Club.

Directly in front of us was a dazzling view of the Vegas Strip at night. The windows were floor to ceiling, wrapping around a corner that was filled with a piano.

“Why are there always pianos in high-roller suites?” Cary asked, flipping up the cover and tapping out a quick tune on the keys.

I shrugged and looked toward the manager, but she’d already moved off, her stilettos moving silently over the thick white carpet. The suite was decorated in what I’d call fifties Hollywood chic. The double-sided fireplace was faced with rough gray stone and decorated with a piece of art that resembled a hubcap with spacey spokes protruding from the center. The sofas were seafoam green with wooden legs as slender as the manager’s heels. Everything had a retro vibe that was at once glamorous and inviting.

It was way too much. I’d expected a nice room, but not the presidential suite. I was about to refuse it when Cary gifted me with a big grin and two thumbs up. Having no willpower to refuse his joy, I gave in and hoped we weren’t putting lauren out of a more profitable reservation.

“Still want a cheeseburger?” I asked him, reaching for the room service menu on the console table behind the sofa.

“And a beer. Make that two.”

Cary followed the manager into a bedroom on the left side of the living area, and I picked up the vintage rotary phone to place our order.

Thirty minutes later, I was fresh from a quick shower and dressed in my pajamas, eating chicken Alfredo cross-legged on the area rug. Cary was plowing through his burger and looking at me with happy eyes from his position on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“You never eat a massive pile of carbs this late,” he noted between bites.

“My period’s coming.”

“I’m sure the workout you got on the way here helped, too.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “How would you know? You were passed out.”

“Deductive reasoning, baby girl. When I went to sleep, you looked irritated. When I woke up, you looked like you’d just smoked a fat joint.”

“How did lauren look?”

“she looked the same—tight-assed and hot as hell.”

I stabbed my fork into my noodles. “That’s not fair.”

“Who cares?” He gestured around us. “Look how she puts you up.”

“I don’t need a sugar daddy, Cary.”

He munched on a French fry. “Have you thought any more about what you do need? You’ve got her time, her rockin’ bod, and access to everything she owns. That’s not bad.”

“No,” I agreed, twirling my fork. I knew from my mom’s many marriages to powerful men that getting their time was the most important thing of all, because for them, it was truly the most valuable thing in their lives. “It’s not bad. It’s just not enough.”

* * *

“This is the life,” Cary pronounced, while lying like a god on a lounger by the pool. He wore pale green trunks and dark shades and caused an unusually large volume of women to walk on our side of the pool. “The only thing missing is a mojito. Gotta have alcohol to celebrate.”

My mouth curved. I was sunbathing on the lounger beside him, enjoying the dry heat and occasional splashes of water. Celebrating was habitual for Cary, something I’d always considered quite charming. “What are we celebrating?”

“Summer.”

“Okay, then.” I sat up and slid my legs off the lounger, tying my sarong around my hips before I stood. My hair was still damp from an earlier dip in the pool and pinned atop my head with a lobster clip. The scorching sun felt good on my skin, a sensual kiss that was nearly enough to make me less self-conscious about the water I was retaining—thanks to my period starting.

I headed over to the pool bar, my gaze raking the other loungers and cabanas through the purple tint of my sunglasses. The area was packed with guests, many of whom were attractive enough to warrant second and third looks. One couple in particular caught my eye, because they reminded me of myself and lauren. The blonde lay on her stomach, her torso propped up on her arms and her legs kicking playfully. Her very yummy dark-haired man stretched out on the chair beside her, his head propped on one hand while the fingers of the other hand stroked up and down her spine.

She caught me staring and her smile instantly faded. I couldn’t see her eyes behind her Jackie O shades, but I knew she was glaring at me. With a smile, I looked away, knowing just how she felt about finding another woman checking out her man.

I found an empty space at the bar and gestured at the bartender to let him know I was ready to order when he was. Misters attached to the ceiling cooled my skin and lured me to slide onto a suddenly vacated bar stool while I waited.

“What are you drinking?”

Turning my head, I looked at the man who’d talked to me. “Nothing yet, but I’m considering a mojito.”

“Let me buy you one.” He smiled, revealing perfectly white but slightly crooked teeth. He extended his hand to me, a movement that brought my attention to his nicely defined arms. “Daniel.”

I placed my hand in his. “camila. Nice to meet you.”

He crossed his arms on the bar and leaned over it. “What brings you to Vegas? Business or pleasure?”

“R and R. You?” Daniel had an interesting tattoo written in a foreign language on his right biceps, and I admired it. He wasn’t traditionally good-looking, but he had confidence and poise, two things I found more attractive in a man than just his physical features.

“Work.”

I shot a look at his swimming trunks. “I’ve got the wrong job.”

“I sell—”

“Excuse me.”

We both turned to face the woman who had intruded on our conversation. She was a compact brunette dressed in a dark polo shirt embroidered with both her name—Sheila—and Cross Towers and Casino. The earpiece in her ear and the utility belt around her waist gave her away as security.

“Miss Cabello.” She greeted me with a nod.

My brows rose. “Yes?”

“There’s a server who can take your order by your cabana.”

“Cool, thanks. But I don’t mind waiting here.”

When I didn’t move, Sheila turned her attention to Daniel. “If you’ll move to the other end of the bar, sir, the bartender will see that your next drinks are on the house.”

He gave a cursory nod, then smiled winningly at me. “I’m good here, too, thanks.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.”

“What?” His smile turned into a scowl. “Why?”

I blinked at Sheila as realization sank in. lauren had me under watch. And she thought she could control what I did from a distance.

Sheila returned my look, her face impassive. “I’ll escort you back to your cabana, Miss Cabello.”

For a minute, I considered making her day hell, maybe grabbing Daniel and kissing him senseless just to send a message to my overbearing girlfriend, but I managed to restrain my temper. She was only doing what she was paid to do. It was her boss who needed the kick in the ass.

“Sorry, Daniel,” I said, flushing with embarrassment. I felt like a scolded kid and that really irked me. “It was nice meeting you.”

He shrugged. “If you change your mind . . .”

I felt Sheila’s gaze on my back as I preceded her to my lounger. Abruptly, I faced her. “So, is getting hit on the only time you’re instructed to step in? Or do you have a list of situations?”

She hesitated a moment, then sighed. I could only imagine what she must think of me, the pretty blond piece of ass who couldn’t be trusted to be out mingling in public. “There’s a list.”

“Of course there is.” lauren wouldn’t leave anything to chance. I wondered when she’d worked on the list, if he’d compiled it just since I mentioned Vegas or if she’d had it on hand. Maybe it was a list she had formed while she was with other women. Maybe she’d written it for Corinne.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

“Un-fucking-believable,” I complained to Cary when she’d stepped a discreet distance away, as if that action alone would be enough to make me forget she was hovering. “I’ve got a babysitter.”

“What?”

I told him what happened and watched his jaw tighten.

“That’s crazy, camila,” he snapped.

“No shit. And I’m not putting up with it. she’s got to learn that relationships don’t work that way. And after all the crap she gave me about trust.” I collapsed on my lounger. “How much does she trust me, if she’s got to have someone shadowing me to chase strangers away?”

“I’m not down with this, camila.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of his chair. “This isn’t okay.”

“You think I don’t know that? And what’s with her being a woman? Nothing against my gender and tough jobs. I’m just wondering if she expects her to follow me into ladies’ rooms or just doesn’t trust a guy to watch me.”

“Are you serious? Why the hell are you sunbathing instead of chewing her a new one?”

The idea I’d been toying with fully formed in my mind. “I’m plotting.”

“Oh?” His mouth curved in a wicked grin. “Do tell.”

I picked my smartphone up from the little mosaic-topped table between us and scrolled through my contacts until I found Benjamin Clancy—my stepfather’s personal bodyguard.

“Hey, Clancy. It’s camila,” I greeted him when he answered after the first ring.

Cary’s eyes widened behind his shades. “Ooh . . .”

Pushing to my feet, I mouthed, I’m going upstairs.

He nodded. “Everything’s fine,” I said, in answer to Clancy’s query. I waited until I’d ducked indoors and knew Sheila was several paces behind me and still outside. “Listen, I have a favor to ask you.”

* * *

I’d just ended my call with Clancy when another call came in. I grinned when I saw the Caller ID and answered with an exuberant, “Hi, Daddy!”

He laughed. “How’s my girl?”

“Causing trouble and enjoying it.” I spread my sarong out on a dining room chair and took a seat. “How are you?”

“Stopping trouble from happening and occasionally enjoying it.”

Victor Reyes was an Oceanside, California street cop, which was why I’d chosen to attend SDSU. My mom had been going through a rough patch with husband number three and I’d been in a rebellious phase, making my own life hell as I tried to forget what Nathan had done to me for so long.

Moving out of my mom’s suffocating orbit had been one of the best decisions I’d ever made. My dad’s quietly unshakeable love for me, his only child, had changed my life. He gave me much-needed freedom—within clearly defined limits—and arranged for me to see Dr. Travis, which led to the start of my long journey of recovery and my friendship with Cary.

“I miss you,” I told him. I loved my mom dearly and know she loved me back, but my relationship with her was a rocky one and it was just so easy with my dad.

“You might be happy about my news, then. I can come out and see you in about two weeks—the week after this upcoming one—if that works for you. I don’t want to put you out.”

“Oh my God, Dad. You could never put me out. I’d love to see you!”

“It’ll be a short trip. I’d come in on the red-eye Thursday night and fly out again Sunday evening.”

“I’m stoked! Yay! I’ll make plans. We’ll have a blast.”

My dad’s soft chuckle sent warmth flowing through me. “I’m coming to see you, not New York. Don’t go crazy with any sightseeing or anything.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we have lots of downtime. And you’ll get to meet lauren.” Just the thought of the two of them together made my tummy flutter.

“lauren jauregui? You said nothing was going on there.”

“Yeah.” I wrinkled my nose. “We’d hit a rough spot at the time. I thought we were over.”

There was a pause. “Is it serious?”

I paused, too, shifting restlessly. My dad was a trained observer; he’d see right away that lauren and I had tension between us—sexual and otherwise. “Yes. It’s not always easy. It’s a lot of work—I’m a lot of work—but we’re both making the effort.”

“Does she appreciate you, camila?” My dad’s voice was gruff and far too serious. “I don’t care how much money she has; you don’t have anything to prove to her.”

“It’s not like that!” I stared at my wriggling pedicured toes and realized the meeting would be more complicated than just a protective father being introduced to his daughter’s new boyfriend. My dad had issues with rich men, thanks to my mom. “You’ll see how it is when you meet her.”

“All right.” Skepticism colored his voice.

“Really, Dad.” I couldn’t begrudge him of his concern, since it’d been my self-destructive run with not-so-good-for-me guys that had led him to finding Dr. Travis. He’d especially had trouble with a lead singer for whom I’d been little more than a groupie and a tattoo artist whom my dad had pulled over to find him getting a blowjob while driving—and not from me. “lauren’s good for me. she gets me.”

“I’ll keep an open mind, okay? And I’ll e-mail you a copy of my itinerary when I book the flight. How’s everything else going?”

“We just started working on a campaign for blueberry-flavored coffee.”

Another pause. “You’re kidding.”

I laughed. “If only. Wish us luck trying to sell that! I’ll be sure to stock some up for you to try.”

“I thought you loved me.”

“With all my heart. How’s your love life going? Did your date go well?”

“Yeah . . . it wasn’t bad.”

Snorting, I asked, “Are you going to see her again?”

“That’s the plan so far.”

“You’re a font of information, Dad.”

He chuckled again and I heard his favorite chair creak as he shifted. “You don’t really want to know about your old man’s love life.”

“True.” Although I did sometimes wonder what his relationship had been like with my mom. He’d been the Latino boy from the wrong side of the tracks and she’d been the golden debutante with dollar signs in her blue eyes. I figured it must’ve been pretty hot between them.

We talked for a few more minutes, both of us excited to see each other again. I’d hoped we wouldn’t drift apart after I moved away after college, which was why I’d made it a necessity to have a weekly catch-up call on Saturdays. Having him visit so soon helped to ease that worry.

I’d just hung up when Cary strolled in, looking every bit like the model he was.

“Still plotting?” he asked.

I stood. “All done. That was my dad. He’s coming out to New York next week.”

“Really? Rock on. Victor’s cool.”

We both moved into the kitchen, and he grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator. I’d noticed earlier that a number of items and products I used at home had been stocked in the suite. I wondered if lauren was just that observant or if she’d found the information another way—like from looking at my receipts. I couldn’t put it past her. Recognizing the boundaries between us was very difficult for her, as evidenced by her siccing her guards on me.

“When’s the last time your parents were in the same state together?” Cary asked, prying the caps off the bottles with a bottle opener. “Let alone the same city.”

Ah, God . . . “I’m not sure. Before I was born?” I took a long pull on the beer he handed me. “I’m not planning on putting them together.”

“Here’s to best-laid plans.” He clinked the necks of our beers together. “Speaking of which, I was considering a quick bang with a chick I met at the pool, but I came up here instead. Figured you and I’d both go without today and just spend the time together.”

“I’m honored,” I said dryly. “I was going to come back down.”

“Too hot out. That sun is brutal.”

“Same sun we have in New York, isn’t it?”

“Smart-ass.” His green eyes sparkled. “How about we clean up and go out to lunch somewhere? My treat.”

“Sure. But I can’t say Sheila won’t insist on tagging along.”

“Fuck her and her boss. What is it with rich people and control issues?”

“They get rich because they take control.”

“Whatever. I prefer our kind of crazy—we pretty much only screw with ourselves.” He crossed one arm over his chest and leaned into the counter. “You gonna put up with his bullshit?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

I grinned and started backing out toward my bedroom. “Get ready. I’ll tell you about it over lunch.”

Chapter 4

I woke with a cry that was muffled by the sweaty palm mashed over my mouth. A crushing weight cut off my air as another hand shoved up beneath my nightgown, groping and bruising. Panic gripped me and I thrashed, my legs kicking frantically.

No . . . Please, no . . . No more. Not again.

Panting like a dog, Nathan yanked my legs apart. The hard thing between his legs poked blindly, ramming into my inner thigh. I fought, my lungs burning, but he was so strong. I couldn’t buck him off. I couldn’t get away.

Stop it! Get off me. Don’t touch me. Oh, God . . . please don’t do that to me . . . don’t hurt me . . .

Ma-ma!

Nathan’s hand pressed down on me, squashing my head into the pillow. The more I struggled, the more excited he became. Gasping horrible, nasty words in my ear, he found the tender spot between my legs and shoved into me, groaning. I froze, locking in a vise of horrendous pain.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “. . . like it once it’s in you . . . hot little slut . . . you like it . . .”

I couldn’t breathe, my lungs shuddering with sobs, my nostrils plugged by the heel of his palm. Spots danced before my eyes; my chest burned. I fought again . . . needing air . . . desperate for air—

“camila! Wake up!”

My eyes snapped open at the barked command. I heaved myself away from the hands gripping my biceps, gaining my freedom. I clawed away . . . fighting the sheets that bound my legs . . . tumbling down . . .

The jolting impact of hitting the floor woke me fully, and an awful sound of pain and fear scraped up through my throat.

“Christ! Camila, damn it. Don’t hurt yourself!”

I sucked in air with deep gulps and scrambled toward the bathroom on all fours.

Lauren scooped me up and gripped me to her chest. “camila .”

“Sick,” I gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth as my stomach roiled.

“I’ve got you,” she said grimly, carrying me with brisk, powerful strides. She took me to the toilet and tossed up the seat. Kneeling beside me, she held my hair back as I heaved, herwarm hand stroking up and down my spine.

“Shh . . . angel,” she murmured, over and over. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

When my stomach was empty, I flushed the toilet and rested my sweat-drenched face on my forearm, trying to focus on anything but the remnants of my dream.

“Baby girl.”

I turned my head to find Cary standing in the threshold of my bathroom, his handsome face marred by a frown. She was fully dressed in loose jeans and a henley, which made me aware that Lauren was fully dressed, too. She’d lost the suit earlier when we’d first come back to my apartment, but she wasn’t wearing the sweats she had put on then. Instead she was in jeans and a black T-shirt.

Disoriented by their appearances, I glanced at my watch and saw it was just after midnight. “What are you guys doing?”

“I was just coming in,” Cary said. “And caught up with Jauregui on her way up.”

I looked at Lauren, whose concerned frown matched my roommate’s. “You went out?”

Lauren helped me to my feet. “I told you I had some things to take care of.”

Until midnight?! “What things?”

“It’s not important.”

I shrugged out of herhold and went to the sink to brush my teeth. Another secret. How many did she have?

Cary appeared at my elbow, his gaze meeting mine in the reflection of my vanity mirror. “You haven’t had a bad dream in a long time.”

Looking into his worried green eyes, I let him see how worn down I was.

He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take it easy this weekend. Recharge. We both need it. You gonna be alright tonight?”

“I’ve got her.” Lauren straightened from her perch on the lip of my bathtub, where she’d taken off her boots.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not here.” Cary pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “Holler if you need me.”

The look he gave me before he left the room spoke volumes—he wasn’t comfortable with Lauren sleeping over. Truth was, I had some reservations, too. I thought my lingering wariness over Lauren's sleep disorder was contributing a lot to my wild emotional state. As Cary had recently said, the woman I loved was a ticking time bomb, and I shared a bed with her.

I rinsed out my mouth and dropped my toothbrush back into its holder. “I need a shower.”

I’d taken one before I crashed, but now I feel dirty again. Cold sweat clung to my skin and when I closed my eyes, I could smell him—Nathan—on me.

Lauren turned on the water, then started stripping, blessedly distracting me with the sight of her gloriously tight body. her muscles were hard and well defined, her build lean yet powerful and elegant.

I left my clothes where they fell and stepped beneath the steamy spray with a groan. She entered the stall behind me, brushing my hair aside and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “How are you?”

“Better.” Because you’re near.

her arms wrapped carefully around my waist and she released a shaky exhalation. “I . . . Jesus, Camila . Were you dreaming about Nathan?”

I took a deep breath. “Maybe one day we’ll talk about our dreams, huh?”

she inhaled sharply, her fingertips flexing against my hip. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “It’s like that.”

We stood there for a long moment, surrounded by steam and secrets, physically close yet emotionally distant. I hated it. The urge to cry was overwhelming and I didn’t fight it. It felt good to get it out. All the pressure of the long day seemed to flow out of me as I sobbed.

“Angel . . .” Lauren pressed into my back, her arms tight around my waist, soothing me with the protective shield of her big body. “Don’t cry . . . God. I can’t take it. Tell me what you need, angel. Tell me what I can do.”

“Wash it away,” I whispered, leaning into her, needing the comfort of her tender possessiveness. My fingers laced her against my stomach. “Make me clean.”

“You are.”

I sucked in a shuddering breath, shaking my head.

“Listen to me, Camila . No one can touch you,” she said fiercely. “No one can get to you. Never again.”

My fingers tightened on his.

“They’d have to get through me, Camila . And that will never happen.”

I couldn’t speak past the ache in my throat. The thought of Lauren facing my nightmare . . . seeing the man who’d done those things to me . . . tightened the cold knot that had been sitting in my gut all day.

Lauren reached for my shampoo and I closed my eyes, shutting it all out, everything but the man whose sole focus at that moment was me.

I waited, breathless, for the feel of her magic fingers. When it came, I reached out to the wall in front of me for balance. With both palms pressed flat against the cool tile, I savored the feel of her fingertips kneading into my scalp and moaned.

“Feel good?” she asked, her voice low and rough.

“Always.”

I drifted in bliss as she washed and conditioned my hair, shivering lightly as she ran a wide-toothed comb through the soaked strands. I was disappointed when she finished and must have made some sound of regret, because she leaned forward and promised, “I’m not nearly done.”

I smelled my body wash, then—

“lauren.”

I arched into her soap-slick hands. her thumbs dug gently into the knots in my shoulders, melting them with the perfect amount of pressure. Then she worked her way down my spine . . . my buttocks . . . my legs . . .

“I’m going to fall,” I slurred, drunk with pleasure.

“I’ll catch you, angel. I’ll always catch you.”

The pain and degradation of my memories washed away beneath the selfless reverence of Lauren's patient caretaking. More than the soap and water, it was her touch that freed me from the nightmare. I turned around at her urging and looked at her crouched before me, her hands gliding up my calves, her body an amazing display of taut flexing muscle. Cupping her jaw, I tilted her head up.

“You can be so good for me, Lauren,” I told her softly. “I don’t know how I could ever forget that. Even for a minute.”

her chest expanded on a quick, deep breath. she straightened, her hands gliding up my thighs, until she towered over me again. her lips touched mine, softly. Lightly. “I know today was all kinds of fucked up. Shit . . . the whole week. It’s been hard for me, too.”

“I know.” I hugged her, pressing my cheek to her heart. She was so solid and strong. I loved the way I felt when I was in her arms.

she was already thick and hard between us, but she grew more so as I cuddled into her. “camila . . .” she cleared her throat. “Let me finish, angel.”

I nipped her jaw with my teeth and reached down to grip her perfect ass, tugging her tighter against me. “Why don’t you get started instead?”

“That isn’t where this was headed.”

As if it could’ve ended any other way when we were both naked and running our hands all over each other. Lauren could put her hand to the small of my back while we were walking and make me as needy as if she’d put her hand between my legs. “Well . . . revisit and revise, ace.”

Lauren's hands came up and gripped the sides of my throat, her thumbs beneath my chin to push it up. her frown gave her away, and before she could tell me why it wasn’t a good idea to make love now, I caught her cock in my hands.

she growled, her hips jerking. “camila . . .”

“It would be a shame to waste this.”

“I can’t screw this up with you.” her eyes were dark as sapphires. “If you ever freaked out while I was touching you, I’d lose my mind.”

“lauren, please—”

“I say when.” The command in her voice was unmistakable.

My grip loosened automatically.

she stepped back and away, her hand dropping to fist her cock.

I shifted restlessly, my attention riveted to that dexterous hand and its long, elegant fingers. As the distance between us widened, I began to ache, my body responding to the loss of his. The heated languidness she’d instilled with her touch turned into a slow burn, as if she’d banked a fire that had suddenly been stoked.

“See something you like?” she purred, pleasuring herself.

Astonished that she’d taunt me after denying me, I looked up . . . and my breath caught.

Lauren was smoldering, too. I couldn’t think of another word to describe her. she was watching me with a heavy-lidded gaze like she wanted to eat me alive. her tongue slid leisurely along the seam of her lips, as if she tasted me. When she caught the full lower curve between her teeth, I could’ve sworn I felt it between my legs. I knew that look so well . . . knew what came after it . . . knew how ferocious she could be when she wanted me that badly.

It was a look that screamed SEX. Hard, deep, endless, mind-blowing sex. She stood on the far side of my shower, her feet planted wide, her ripped body flexing rhythmically as he caressed her beautiful cock with long, slow strokes.

I’d never seen anything so blatantly sexual or boldly masculine.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, riveted. “You are so fucking hot.”

The gleam in her eyes told me she knew what she was doing to me. her free hand slid slowly up her rigid abdomen and squeezed her pectoral, making me jealous. “Could you come watching me?”

Realization struck me. she was afraid to touch me sexually so soon after my nightmare, afraid of what it might do to us if she triggered me. But she was willing to put on a show for me—inspire me—so I could touch myself. The surge of emotion I felt in that moment was Camila stating. Gratitude and affection, desire and tenderness.

“I love you, lauren.”

her eyes squeezed shut, as if the words were too much for her to take. When they opened again, the force of her will sent a shiver of need through me. “Show me.”

The wide head of her cock was engulfed in her palm. she squeezed, bringing a flush to her face that had me pressing my thighs together. her thumb rubbed over the flat disk of her nipple. Once. Twice. she groaned a rough sound of delight that had me salivating.

The water pounding at my back and the billowing steam that plumed between us only added to the eroticism of the picture she presented. her hand quickened, sliding rhythmically up and down. She was so long and thick. Undeniably virile.

Unable to bear the ache of my tightened nipples, I cupped my breasts and squeezed.

“There you go, angel. Show me what I do to you.”

There was a moment in which I wondered if I could. It hadn’t been so long ago that I’d been embarrassed to talk about my vibrator with Lauren face-to-face.

“Look at me, Camila .” she cupped her balls in one hand and her cock in the other. Shameless, which was such a turn-on. “I don’t want to come without you. I need you with me.”

I wanted to be as hot as her. I wanted her as aching and needy as I felt. I wanted my body—my desire—to be burned onto her brain the way this image of her would be burned onto mine.

With my eyes locked with her, my hands glided over my body. I watched her movements . . . listened for the catch of her breath . . . used her clues to know what drove her wild.

It was somehow as intimate as when she was inside me, maybe more so because we were wide open and on display. Totally bared. Our pleasure reflected in each other.

she started telling me what she wanted in that raspy sex god voice: Tug your nipples, angel . . . Touch yourself—are you wet? Push your fingers inside you . . . Feel how tight you are? A hot, tight, plush little heaven for my dick . . . You’re so fucking gorgeous . . . So sexy. I’m so damn stiff it hurts . . . See what you do to me? I’m going to come so hard for you . . .

“lauren.” I gasped, my fingertips massaging my clit in rapid circles, my hips grinding into my touch.

“Right there with you,” she said hoarsely, her hand jacking her cock with brutal speed and violence in her race to orgasm.

At the first jolting contraction of my core, I cried out, my legs quaking. My palm slapped against the glass enclosure for balance, the climax stealing the strength from my muscles. Lauren was on me for a second, gripping my hip bone in a way that conveyed greed and possession, her fingers flexing with restless agitation.

“camila!” she growled, as the first thick, hot burst of semen hit my belly. “Fuck.”

Hunching over me, her teeth sank into the tender spot between my shoulder and neck, a painless hold that conveyed the rawness of her pleasure. her groans vibrated against me and she came violently, spurting repeatedly against my stomach.

* * *

It was a little after six o’clock in the morning when I slipped out of my bedroom. I’d been up for a while, watching Lauren sleep. It was a rare treat, because I hardly ever managed to wake up before she did. I could stare at her without any worries that she’d be weirded out.

I padded down the hallway until it emptied into the expansive open floor plan of the main living area. It was ridiculous that Cary and I lived on the Upper West Side in an apartment large enough for a family, but I’d long ago learned to pick my battles when it came to arguing with my mother and stepfather over my safety. There was no way they were budging on location or security features like a doorman and front desk, but I could exploit my cooperation on my living arrangements to get them to ease up on other points.

I was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to finish brewing when Cary joined me. He strolled in looking amazing in a pair of gray San Diego State University sweats, sleep-mussed chocolate brown hair, and a day’s worth of stubble along his square jaw.

“Morning, baby girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple as he passed me.

“You’re up early.”

“Look who’s talking.” He grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard, then the half-and-half out of the fridge. He brought them over and studied me. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Really,” I insisted, when he shot me a skeptical look. “Lauren took care of me.”

“Okay, but is that really so great if she’s the reason you were stressed enough to have the nightmare to begin with?”

I filled mugs for both of us, adding sugar to mine and cream to both. As I did, I told him about Corinne and the Waldorf dinner, then the argument I’d had with Lauren over her appearance at the Crossfire.

Cary stood with his hip cocked into the counter, his legs crossed at the ankle, and one arm banding his chest. He sipped his coffee. “No explanation, huh?”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of Lauren's silence. “How about you? How are you doing?”

“You just gonna change the subject?”

“What else is there to say? It’s a one-sided story.”

“Do you ever stop to think that she might always have secrets?”

Frowning, I lowered my mug. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s the twenty-eight-year-old son of a suicidal Ponzi scheme swindler, and she just happens to own a large chunk of Manhattan.” One brow arched upward in challenge. “Think about it. Can they really be mutually exclusive things?”

Lowering my gaze to my mug, I took a drink and didn’t confess that I’d wondered the same thing once or twice. The extent of Lauren's fortune and empire was staggering, especially considering her age. “I can’t see Lauren bilking people, not when it’s more of a challenge to accomplish what she has legitimately.”

“With all the secrets she’s got, can you be sure you know him well enough to make that judgment call?”

I thought of the woman who’d spent the night with me and felt relief at how sure I was about my answer—at least at that moment. “Yes.”

“All right, then.” Cary shrugged. “I talked to Dr. Travis yesterday.”

My thoughts immediately veered in another direction at the mention of our therapist in San Diego. “You did?”

“Yeah. I really fucked up the other night.”

From the agitated way he scooped his long bangs back from his face, I knew he was referring to the orgy I’d walked in on.

“Jauregui broke Ian’s nose and split his lip,” he said, reminding me of how violently Lauren had responded to Cary’s . . . friend rudely propositioning me to join them. “I saw Ian yesterday and he looks like he was hit in the face with a brick. He was asking who clocked him, so he could press charges.”

“Oh.” My lungs seized for the length of two heartbeats. “Oh, crap.”

“I know. Billionaire plus lawsuit equals beaucoup bucks. What the fuck was I thinking?” Cary closed his eyes and rubbed them. “I told him I didn’t know who your date was, that it was some guy you picked up and dragged home. Jauregui blindsided him, so Ian didn’t see shit.”

“The two girls with you got a real good look at Lauren,” I said grimly.

“They took off out that door”—Cary pointed at Jauregui in the living room as if our door were still reverberating with the slam—“like she-bats out of hell. They didn’t go to the urgent care with us, and neither of us knows who they are. If Ian doesn’t run into them again, we’re okay.”

I rubbed at the quiver in my tummy, feeling unsettled again.

“I’ll keep an eye on the situation,” he assured me. “The whole night was a major wake-up call, and talking it out in therapy gave me some perspective. Afterward, I went to see Trey. To apologize.”

Hearing Trey’s name made me sad. I’d hoped Cary’s budding relationship with the veterinary student would work out, but Cary had sabotaged that. As usual. “How’d that go?”

He shrugged again, but the movement was awkward. “I hurt him the other night because I’m an asshole. Then I hurt him again yesterday trying to do the right thing.”

“Did you break it off?” I held my hand out to him and squeezed his when he placed it in mine.

“It’s seriously cooled off. Like on ice. He wants me to be gay, and I’m not.”

It was painful to hear that someone wanted Cary to be anything other than who he was, because it's always been that way for him. I couldn’t understand why. To me, he was wonderful as is. “I’m so sorry, Cary.”

“So am I, because he’s a great guy. I’m just not ready for the stress and demands of a complicated relationship right now. I’m working a lot. I’m not stable enough yet to be fucked up in the head.” His lips pursed. “You might want to think about that, too. We just moved out here. We’ve both still got some settling in to do.”

I nodded, understanding where he was coming from and not disagreeing, but unwavering in my decision to see my relationship with Lauren through. “Did you talk to Tatiana, too?”

“No need.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles before he released me. “She’s easy.”

Snorting, I took a large gulp of my cooling coffee.

“Not just that way,” he chided, giving me a wicked grin. “I mean she doesn’t expect anything or make any demands. As long as I suit up and she orgasms at least as many times as I do, she’s good. I’m actually okay with her, and not just because she could suck chrome off a bumper. It’s relaxing being with someone who just wants to have fun and causes no stress.”

“Lauren knows me. She understands and tries to work around my issues. She's working for this, too, Cary. It’s not easy for her, either.”

“Do you think Jauregui had a nooner with her ex?” he asked bluntly.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Sucking in a deep breath, I took a fortifying gulp and admitted, “Mostly. I think I’m the one doing it for him now. It’s pretty hot with us, you know? But her ex has some kind of hold on her. she says it’s guilt, but that doesn’t explain her blonde fascination.”

“It explains why you lost it and hit him—her being around again is eating at you. And she still won’t tell you what’s going on. Does that sound healthy to you?”

It wasn’t. I knew that. I hated it. “We saw Dr. Petersen last night.”

His brows rose. “How’d that go?”

“He didn’t tell us to run far, far away from each other as fast as we can.”

“And if he does? Will you listen?”

“I’m not bailing when things get rough this time. Seriously, Cary”—I held his gaze—“am I really all that far ahead if I can’t take any waves?”

“Baby girl, Jauregui is a tsunami.”

“Ha!” I smiled, unable to help it. Cary could get me to smile through tears. “To tell you the truth, if I don’t work this out with Lauren, I have doubts I’ll work it out with anyone.”

“That’s your shitty self-esteem talking.”

“She knows what I’m carrying around in me.”

“All right.”

My brows shot up. “All right?” That was too easy.

“I’m not sold. But I’ll deal.” He grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let’s get your hair done.”

I smiled, grateful. “You’re the best.”

He bumped his hip into mine. “And I won’t let you forget it.”

Chapter 3

when Megumi and I stepped into an elevator, I hit the button for the top floor.

“I’ll be back in five minutes, if anyone asks,” I told her, as she stepped off at Waters Field & Leaman.

“Give her a kiss for me, will you?” she said, playfully fanning herself. “Makes me hot just thinking about living vicariously through you.”

I managed a smile before the doors closed and the car continued its ascent. When it reached the end of the line, I exited into a tastefully ornate and undeniably masculine entrance foyer. Smoky glass security doors were sandblasted with jauregui INDUSTRIES and softened by hanging baskets of ferns and lilies.

lauren ’s redheaded receptionist was unusually cooperative and buzzed me in before I reached the door. Then she grinned at me in a way that got my back up. I’d always gotten the impression she didn’t like me, so I didn’t trust that smile for a minute. It made me twitchy. Still, I waved and said hello, because I wasn’t a catty bitch—unless I was given good reason to be.

I took the long hallway that led to lauren , stopping at a large secondary reception area where his secretary, Scott, manned the desk.

Scott stood as I approached. “Hello, camila,” she greeted me, reaching for his phone. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

The glass wall that separated lauren ’s office from the rest of the floor was usually crystal clear but could be made opaque with the push of a button. It was frosted now, which increased my uneasiness. “Is she alone?”

“Yes, but—”

Whatever else he said was lost as I pushed through the glass door and into lauren ’s domain. It was a massive space, with three distinct seating areas, each larger than my boss Mark’s entire office. In contrast to the elegant warmth of lauren ’s apartment, his office was decorated in a cool palette of black, gray, and white broken only by the jewel-toned crystal decanters that decorated the wall behind a bar.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city on two sides. The one solid wall opposite the immense desk was covered in flat screens streaming news channels from around the world.

My gaze swept the room and caught on the throw pillow that had been carelessly knocked to the floor. Beside it were indents in the area rug that betrayed where the couch feet were usually planted. The piece of furniture had, apparently, been bumped askew by a few inches.

My heart rate sped up and my palms grew damp. That awful anxiety I’d felt earlier intensified.

I had just noticed the open door to the washroom when lauren stepped into view, stealing my breath with the beauty of his exposed torso. His hair was damp, as if from a recent shower, and his neck and upper chest were still flushed, as it became when she exerted herself physically.

she froze when she saw me, his gaze darkening for an instant before his perfect, implacable mask slid effortlessly into place.

“It’s not a good time, camila,” she said, shrugging into a dress shirt she’d had draped over the back of a bar stool . . . a different shirt from the one she’d been wearing earlier that morning. “I’m running late to an appointment.”

I gripped my purse tightly. Seeing her so intimately brought home how badly I wanted her. I loved her insanely, needed her like I needed to breathe . . . which only made it easier for me to understand how Magdalene and Corinne felt, and to relate to any lengths they might go to in trying to lure her away from me. “Why are you half dressed?”

There was no help for it. My body responded instinctively to the sight of his, which made it even harder for me to rein in my rioting emotions. His open, neatly pressed dress shirt revealed golden skin stretched tightly over washboard abs and perfectly defined pectorals. A dusting of dark hair over his chest arrowed down and darkened into a thin line, leading to a cock presently encased in boxer briefs and slacks. Just thinking about how she felt inside me made me ache with longing.

“I got something on my shirt.” she began buttoning up, his abs flexing with his movements as she crossed over to the bar, where I saw his cuff links waiting. “I have to run. If you need something, let Scott know and she’ll see to it. Or I’ll take care of it when I get back. I shouldn’t be more than two hours.”

“Why are you running late?”

she didn’t look at me when she answered, “I had to squeeze in a last-minute meeting.”

Did you now? “You showered this morning.” After making love to me for an hour.“Why did you have to shower again?”

“Why the inquisition?” she snapped.

Needing answers, I went to the washroom. The lingering humidity was oppressive. Ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to look for trouble I couldn’t bear to find, I dug his shirt out of the laundry basket . . . and saw red lipstick smeared like a bloodstain on one of the cuffs. Pain twisted through my chest.

Dropping the garment on the floor, I pivoted and left, needing to get as far away from lauren as possible. Before I threw up or started sobbing.

“camila!” she snapped as I hurried past her. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Fuck you, asswipe.”

“Excuse me?”

My hand was on the door handle when she caught me, yanking me back by the elbow. Spinning, I slapped her with enough force to turn his head and set my palm on fire.

“Goddamn it,” she growled, grabbing me by the arms and shaking me. “Don’t fucking hit me!”

“Don’t touch me!” The feel of his bare hands on the bare skin of my arms was too much.

she shoved back and away from me. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?”

“I saw her, lauren .”

“Saw who?”

“Corinne!”

she scowled. “What are you talking about?”

Pulling my smartphone out, I thrust the photo in his face. “Busted.”

lauren ’s gaze narrowed on the screen, and then his scowl cleared. “Busted doing what, exactly?” she asked, too softly.

“Oh, screw you.” I turned toward the door, shoving my phone in my purse. “I’m not spelling it out for you.”

His palm slapped against the glass, holding the door closed. Caging me with his body, she leaned down and hissed in my ear, “Yes. Yes, you goddamn will spell it out.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as our position at the door brought back a flood of heated memories from the first time I’d been in lauren ’s office. she’d stopped me just like this, seducing me deftly, drawing us into a passionate embrace on the very couch that had recently seen some kind of action forceful enough to shove it out of position.

“Doesn’t a picture say a thousand words?” I bit out through clenched teeth.

“So Corinne was manhandled. What does that have to do with me?”

“Are you kidding me? Let me out.”

“I don’t find anything even remotely funny about this. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been this pissed off at a woman. You come in here with your half-assed accusations and self-righteous bullshit—”

“I am righteous!” I twisted around and ducked beneath his arm, putting some much-needed distance between us. Being close to her hurt too much. “I would never cheat on you! If I wanted to fuck around, I’d break it off with you first.”

Leaning into the door, lauren crossed his arms. His shirt remained untucked and open at the collar, a look I found hot and tempting, which only made me angrier.

“You think I cheated on you?” His tone was clipped and icy.

I sucked in a deep breath to get through the pain of imagining her with Corinne on the sofa behind me. “Explain to me why she was here at the Crossfire, looking like she did. Why your office looks like this. Why you look like that.”

His gaze went to the couch, then to the cushion on the floor, then back to me. “I don’t know why Corinne was here or why she looked like that. I haven’t seen her since last night, when you were with me.”

Last night seemed like it’d happened forever ago. I wished that it had never happened at all.

“But I wasn’t with you,” I pointed out. “She batted her eyelashes and said she wanted to introduce you to someone, and you left me standing there.”

“Christ.” His eyes blazed. “Not this again.”

I swiped angrily at a tear that slid down my cheek.

she growled. “You think I went with her because I was overcome with the need to be with her and get away from you?”

“I don’t know, lauren . You ditched me. You’re the one with the answers.”

“You ditched me first.”

My mouth fell open. “I did not!”

“The hell you didn’t. Almost the second we arrived, you took off. I had to hunt you down and when I did, you were dancing with that prick.”

“Martin is Stanton’s nephew!” And since Richard Stanton was my stepdad, I thought of Martin as family.

“I don’t care if he’s a damned priest. He wants to nail you.”

“Oh my God. That’s absurd! Stop deflecting. You were talking business with your associates. It was awkward standing there. For them as well as me.”

“That’s your place, awkward or not!”

My head jerked back as if she’d slapped me. “Come again?”

“How would you feel if I walked away from you at a Waters Field and Leaman party because you started talking about a campaign? Then, when you found me, I was slow dancing with Magdalene?”

“I—” God. I hadn’t thought of it like that.

lauren appeared smooth and unruffled with his powerful frame lounging against the door, but I could sense the anger vibrating beneath that calm surface. she was riveting always, but most especially when she was seething with passion. “It’s my place to stand beside you, and support you, and yes, just fucking look pretty on your arm sometimes. It’s my right, my duty, and my privilege, camila, just as it’s yours in reverse.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor by getting out of the way.”

His arched brow was a silent, sarcastic comeback.

My arms crossed in front of me. “Is that why you walked off with Corinne? Were you punishing me?”

“If I wanted to punish you, camila, I’d take you over my knee.”

My gaze narrowed. That was never going to happen.

“I know how you get,” she said curtly. “I didn’t want you jealous over Corinne before I had a chance to explain. I needed a few minutes to make sure she understood how serious you and I are, and how important it was to me that you enjoy the evening. That’s the only reason I walked away with her.”

“You told her not to say anything about you two, didn’t you? You told her to keep quiet about what she is to you. Too bad Magdalene screwed that up.”

And maybe Corinne and Magdalene had planned it that way. Corinne knew lauren well enough to anticipate his moves; it might’ve been easy for her to plan around his reaction to her unexpected appearance in New York.

Which shed a whole new light on why Magdalene had called me today. She and Corinne had been talking at the Waldorf when lauren and I spotted them. Two women who wanted a man who was with another woman. Nothing was going to happen for them while I was in the picture, and because of that, I couldn’t rule out the possibility that they might be working together.

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” she said tightly.

I waved that off, more concerned about what was happening now. “I saw Corinne get into the Bentley, lauren . Right before I came up here.”

His other brow rose to match the first. “Did you?”

“Yes, I did. Can you explain that?”

“I can’t, no.”

Injured fury burned through me. I suddenly couldn’t bear to even look at her. “Then get out of my way, I have to get back to work.”

she didn’t move. “I just want to be clear on something before you go: Do you believe I fucked her?”

Hearing her say it aloud made me flinch. “I don’t know what to believe. The evidence sure—”

“I wouldn’t care if the ‘evidence’ included you finding me and her naked in a bed together.” she uncoiled so swiftly, I stumbled back in surprise. she stalked closer. “I want to know if you think I fucked her. If you think I would. Or could. Do you?”

My foot began to tap, but I didn’t retreat. “Explain the lipstick on your shirt, lauren .”

His jaw tightened. “No.”

“What?” The flat-out refusal sent me into a tailspin.

“Answer my question.”

I studied his face and saw the mask she wore around other people but had never worn with me. she reached his hand toward me as if to brush my cheek with his fingertips, then pulled back at the last minute. In that brief instant in which she pulled away, I heard his teeth grind, as if not touching me was a struggle. Agonized, I was grateful she hadn’t.

“I need you to explain,” I whispered, wondering if I imagined the wince that crossed his face. Sometimes I wanted to believe something so badly, I deliberately manufactured excuses and ignored painful reality.

“I’ve given you no reason to doubt me.”

“You’re giving me one now, lauren .” I exhaled in a rush, deflating. Withdrawing. she was standing in front of me, but she seemed miles away. “I understand you need time before you share secrets that are painful for you. I’ve been where you’re at, knowing I needed to talk about what happened to me but just not ready. That’s why I’ve tried very hard not to push you or rush you. But this secret is one that’s hurting me, and that’s different. Don’t you see that?”

Cursing under his breath, she cupped my face with cool hands. “I go out of my way to make sure you don’t have any reason to feel jealous, but when you do get possessive, I like it. I want you to fight for me. I want you to care that much. I want you crazy about me. But possessiveness without trust is hell. If you don’t trust me, we’ve got nothing.”

“Trust goes both ways, lauren .”

she sucked in a deep breath. “Damn it. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m trying to figure out who you are. Where’s the man who came right out and said she wanted to fuck me? The man who didn’t hesitate to tell me I tie her up in knots, even as I was breaking up with her? I believed you’d always be brutally honest like that. I counted on it. Now—” I shook my head, my throat too tight to say anything else.

Grimness thinned his lips, but they stayed stubbornly closed.

Catching his wrists, I pulled his hands away. I was cracking open inside, breaking. “I won’t run this time, but you can push me away. You might want to think about that.”

I left. lauren didn’t stop me.

* * *

I spent the rest of the afternoon focused on work. Mark loved to brainstorm out loud, which was an awesome learning exercise for me, and his confident and amiable way of dealing with his accounts was inspiring. I watched him breeze through two client meetings in which he conveyed an air of command that was both reassuring and nonthreatening.

Then we tackled a baby-toy company’s needs analysis, zeroing in on poor return expenditures as well as untapped avenues, such as mom-blog advertising. I was grateful that my job was a distraction from my personal life, and I was looking forward to going to my Krav Maga class later, so I could burn off some of my edgy restlessness.

It was just past four when my desk phone rang. I answered briskly and felt my heart leap at the sound of lauren ’s voice.

“We should leave at five,” she said, “to get to Dr. Petersen’s on time.”

“Oh.” I’d forgotten that our couples therapy sessions were on Thursdays at six P.M.It would be our first.

Abruptly, I wondered if it would also be our last.

“I’ll come get you,” she went on gruffly, “when it’s time.”

I sighed, feeling far from up to it. I was already raw and irritable from our fight earlier. “I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that. I hate that I did.”

“Angel.” lauren exhaled harshly. “You didn’t ask the one question that matters.”

My eyes closed. It was irritating how she read my mind. “Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re keeping secrets.”

“Secrets are something we can work through; cheating isn’t.”

I rubbed at the ache behind my forehead. “You’re right about that.”

“There’s only you, camila.” His voice was clipped and hard.

A tremor moved through me at the fury underlying his words. she was still angry that I’d doubted her. Oh well. I was still angry, too. “I’ll be ready at five.”

she was prompt, as usual. While I put my computer to sleep and grabbed my belongings, he spoke with Mark about the ongoing work on the Kingsman Vodka account. I watched lauren furtively. she cut an imposing figure with his tall, leanly muscular frame in his dark suit and carried herself in a way that projected impenetrability, yet I’d seen her terribly vulnerable.

I was in love with that tender, deeply emotional man. And I resented the façade and his attempts to hide herself from me.

Turning his head, she caught me staring. I saw a glimpse of my beloved lauren in his wild blue gaze, which briefly exposed a helpless yearning. Then she was gone, replaced by the cool mask. “Ready?”

It was so obvious that she was holding something back, and it killed me to have that gulf between us. To know there were things she wouldn’t trust me with.

As we exited through reception, Megumi rested her chin on her fist and gave a dramatic sigh.

“She’s crushing on you, jauregui,” I murmured, as we made our way out and she hit the call button for the elevator.

“Whatever.” she snorted. “What does she know about me?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question all day,” I said quietly.

That time, I was certain she winced.

* * *

Dr. Lyle Petersen was tall, with neatly groomed gray hair and sharp yet kind denim blue eyes. His office was tastefully decorated in neutral shades and his furniture was extremely comfortable, something I noted on every one of my visits to him. It was a little weird for me to see him as my therapist now. In the past, he’d met with me only as my mother’s daughter. He’d been my mom’s shrink for the last couple of years.

I watched as he settled into the gray wingback chair across from the sofa lauren and I sat on. His keen gaze shifted between us, clearly noting how we’d each taken seats on opposite ends of the sofa, our stiff postures revealing our defensiveness. We’d made the drive over in the same way.

Flipping open the cover of his tablet, Dr. Petersen gripped his stylus and said, “Shall we start with the cause of the tension between you?”

I waited a beat, to give lauren a chance to speak first. I wasn’t terribly surprised when she just sat there, silent. “Well . . . in the last twenty-four hours I’ve met the fiancée I didn’t know lauren had—”

“Ex-fiancée,” lauren growled.

“—I found out the reason she’s dated brunettes exclusively is because of her—”

“It wasn’t dating.”

“—and I caught her leaving his office after lunch looking like this—” I dug out my phone.

“She was leaving the building,” lauren bit out, “not my office.”

I pulled up the picture and passed my phone over to Dr. Petersen. “And getting into your car, lauren !”

“Angus just told you before we got here that he saw her standing there, recognized her, and was being polite.”

“Like he’d say anything different!” I shot back. “He’s been your driver since you were a kid. Of course he’d cover your ass.”

“Oh, it’s a conspiracy now?”

“What was he doing there, then?” I challenged.

“Driving me to lunch.”

“Where? I’ll just verify you were there and she wasn’t, and we’ll get that part out of the way.”

lauren ’s jaw clenched. “I told you. I had an unexpected appointment. I didn’t make it to lunch.”

“Who was the appointment?”

“It wasn’t Corinne.”

“That’s not an answer!” I turned back to Dr. Petersen, who calmly returned my phone to me. “When I went up to his office to ask her what the hell was going on, I discovered her half dressed and freshly showered, with one of his sofas bumped out of place, pillows strewn all over the floor—”

“One goddamned pillow!”

“—and red lipstick on his shirt.”

“There are two dozen businesses in the Crossfire,” lauren said coldly. “She could have been visiting any one of them.”

“Right,” I drawled, my voice dripping sarcasm. “Of course.”

“Wouldn’t I have taken her to the hotel?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, reeling. “You still have that room?”

His mask slipped, revealing a flare of panic. The realization that she still had his sex pad—a hotel room he used exclusively for fucking and somewhere I’d never go again—hit me like a physical blow, sending a sharp pain through my chest. A low sound left me, a pained whimper that had me squeezing my eyes shut.

“Let’s slow down,” Dr. Petersen interrupted, scribbling rapidly. “I want to backtrack a bit. lauren , why didn’t you tell camila about Corinne?”

“I had every intention of doing so,” lauren said tightly.

“she doesn’t tell me anything,” I whispered, digging for a tissue in my purse so I wouldn’t have mascara running down my face. Why would he keep that room? The only explanation was that she intended to use it with someone other than me.

“What do you talk about?” Dr. Petersen asked, directing the question at both of us.

“I’m usually apologizing,” lauren muttered.

Dr. Petersen looked up. “For what?”

“Everything.” she raked a hand through his hair.

“Do you feel that camila’s too demanding or expects too much from you?”

I felt lauren ’s gaze on my profile. “No. She doesn’t ask for anything.”

“Except the truth,” I corrected, turning toward her.

His eyes blazed, searing me with heat. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Do you want her to ask you for things, lauren ?” Dr. Petersen queried.

lauren frowned.

“Think about that. We’ll come back to it.” Dr. Petersen turned his attention to me. “I’m intrigued by the photo you took, camila. You were confronted with a situation that many women would find deeply upsetting—”

“There was no situation,” lauren reiterated coldly.

“Her perception of a situation,” Dr. Petersen qualified.

“A patently ridiculous perception, considering the physical aspect of our relationship.”

“All right. Let’s talk about that. How many times a week do you have sex? On average.”

My face heated. I looked at lauren , who returned my look with a smirk.

“Umm . . .” My lips twisted ruefully. “A lot.”

“Daily?” Dr. Petersen’s brows rose when I uncrossed and recrossed my legs, nodding. “Multiple times daily?”

lauren stepped in, “On average.”

Laying his tablet flat on his lap, Dr. Petersen met lauren ’s gaze. “Is this level of sexual activity customary for you?”

“Nothing about my relationship with camila is customary, Doctor.”

“What was the frequency of your sexual encounters prior to camila?”

lauren ’s jaw tensed, and she glanced at me.

“It’s okay,” I told her, even as I conceded that I wouldn’t want to answer that question in front of her.

she reached his hand out, spanning the distance between us. I placed mine in his and appreciated the reassuring squeeze she gave me. “Twice a week,” he said tightly. “On average.”

Tshe number of women quickly added up in my mind. My free hand fisted in my lap.

Dr. Petersen sat back. “camila has brought up concerns of infidelity and lack of communication in your relationship. How often is sex used to resolve disagreements?”

lauren ’s brow arched. “Before you assume camila’s suffering under the demands of my overactive libido, you should know that she initiates sex at least as often as I do. If one of us were going to have concerns about keeping up, it’d be me just by virtue of possessing male anatomy.”

Dr. Petersen looked at me for confirmation.

“Most interactions between us lead to sex,” I conceded, “including fights.”

“Before or after the conflict is considered resolved by both of you?”

I sighed. “Before.”

He dropped the stylus and started typing. I thought he might end up with a novel’s worth by the time all was said and done.

“Your relationship has been highly sexualized from the beginning?” he asked.

I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking. “We’re very attracted to each other.”

“Obviously.” He glanced up and offered a kind smile. “However, I’d like to discuss the possibility of abstinence while we—”

“There is no possibility,” lauren interjected. “That’s a nonstarter. I suggest we focus on what’s not working without eliminating one of the few things that is.”

“I’m not sure it is working, lauren ,” Dr. Petersen said evenly. “Not the way it should be.”

“Doctor.” lauren set one ankle on the opposite knee and settled back, creating a picture of unyielding decisiveness. “The only way I’m keeping my hands off her is if I’m dead. Find another way to fix us.”

* * *

“I’m new to this therapy thing,” lauren said later, after we’d gotten back into the Bentley and were heading home. “So I’m not sure. Was that the train wreck it felt like it was?”

“It could’ve gone better,” I said wearily, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I was bone tired. Too tired to even think about catching the eight o’clock Krav Maga class. “I’d kill for a quick shower and my bed.”

“I have some things to take care of before I can call it a day.”

“That’s fine.” I yawned. “Why don’t we take the night off and see each other tomorrow?”

Thick silence greeted my suggestion. After a moment, it became so fraught with tension that I was motivated to lift both my head and my heavy eyelids to look at her.

His gaze was on my face, his lips thinned into a frustrated line. “You’re cutting me off.”

“No, I’m—”

“The hell you’re not! You’ve tried and convicted me, and now you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m exhausted, lauren ! There’s only so much bullshit I can take before I’m buried in it. I need sleep and—”

“I need you,” she snapped. “What is it going to take to make you believe me?”

“I don’t think you cheated. Okay? As suspicious as it all looks, I can’t convince myself you’d do that. It’s the secrets that are getting to be too much. I’m giving all I’ve got to this and you’re—”

“You think I’m not?” she twisted in the seat, sliding one bent leg in between us so that she faced me directly. “I’ve never worked so hard for anything in my life as I have for you.”

“You can’t make the effort for me. You have to do it for you.”

“Don’t give me that crap! I wouldn’t need to work on my relationship skills for anyone else.”

With a low moan, I rested my cheek against the seat and closed my eyes again. “I’m tired of fighting, lauren . I just want some peace and quiet for a night. I’ve been feeling off all day.”

“Are you sick?” she shifted, cupping the back of my neck gently and pressing his lips to my forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Is your stomach upset?”

I breathed her in, absorbing the delicious scent of his skin. The urge to press my face into the crook of his neck was nearly overwhelming.

“No.” And then it hit me. I groaned.

“What is it?” she pulled me into his lap, cradling me close. “What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?”

“It’s my period,” I whispered, not wanting Angus to overhear. “It should start any day now. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. No wonder I’m so tired and cranky; I’m hormonal.”

she stilled. After a heartbeat or two, I tilted my head back to search his face.

With his lips twisted ruefully, she admitted, “That’s a new one for me. Not something that comes up in the course of a casual sex life.”

“Lucky you. You get to experience the inconvenience reserved for men with girlfriends and wives.”

“I am lucky.” lauren brushed loose strands of my hair away from my temples, his own luxuriant hair falling around that chiseled face. “And maybe, if I’m really lucky, you’ll feel better tomorrow and like me again.”

Ah, God. My heart ached in my chest. “I like you now, lauren . I just don’t like you keeping secrets. It’s going to break us up.”

“Don’t let it,” she murmured, tracing my brows with his fingertip. “Trust me.”

“You have to trust me back.”

Folding over me, she pressed his lips softly to mine. “Don’t you know, angel?” she breathed. “There’s no one I trust more.”

Sliding my arms beneath his jacket, I hugged her, soaking up the warmth of his lean, hard body. I couldn’t help but worry that we were beginning to drift from one another.

lauren pressed the advantage, his tongue dipping into my mouth, lightly touching and teasing mine with velvet licks. Deceptively unhurried. I sought a deeper contact, needing more. Always more. Hating that aside from this, she gave me so little of herself.

she groaned into my mouth, an erotic sound of pleasure and need that vibrated through me. Tilting his head, she sealed those beautifully sculpted lips over mine. The kiss deepened, our tongues stroking, our breaths quickening.

The arm she’d banded beneath my back tightened, pulling me closer. Her other hand slid beneath my shirt, cradling my spine in her warm palm. Her fingertips flexed, gentling me even as the kiss grew wild. I arched into the caress, needing the reassurance of her touch against my bare skin.

“lauren . . .” For the first time, our physical closeness wasn’t enough to calm the desperate wanting inside me.

“Shh,” she soothed. “I’m here. Not going anywhere.”

Closing my eyes, I buried my face in her neck, wondering if we’d both be too stubborn and stay, even if it turned out that it would be best to let go.

Chapter 2

Just before I exited the elevator into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman, the advertising firm I worked for on the twentieth floor, Lauren whispered in my ear, “Think about me all day.”

I squeezed her hand surreptitiously in the crowded car. “Always do.”

She continued the ride up to the top floor, which housed the headquarters of Jauregui Industries. The Crossfire was her, one of many properties she owned throughout the city, including the apartment complex I lived in.

I tried not to pay attention to that. My mom was a career trophy wife. She’d given up my father’s love for an affluent lifestyle, which I couldn’t relate to at all. I’d prefer love over wealth any day, but I suppose that was easy for me to say because I had money—a sizable investment portfolio—of my own. Not that I ever touched it. I wouldn’t. I’d paid too high a price and couldn’t imagine anything worth the cost.

Megumi, the receptionist, buzzed me through the glass security door and greeted me with a big smile. She was a pretty woman, young like me, with a stylish bob of glossy black hair framing stunning Asian features.

“Hey,” I said, stopping by her desk. “Got any plans for lunch?”

“I do now.”

“Awesome.” My grin was wide and genuine. As much as I loved Cary and enjoyed spending time with him, I needed girlfriends, too. Cary had already started building a network of acquaintances and friends in our adopted city, but I’d been sucked into the Lauren vortex almost from the outset. As much as I’d prefer to spend every moment with her, I knew it wasn’t healthy. Female friends would give it to me straight when I needed it, and I was going to have to cultivate those friendships if I wanted them.

Setting off, I headed down the long hallway to my cubicle. When I reached my desk, I put my bag and purse in the bottom drawer, keeping my smartphone out so I could silence it. I found a text from Cary: I’m sorry, baby girl.

“Cary Taylor,” I sighed. “I love you . . . even when you’re pissing me off.”

And he’d pissed me off royally. No woman wanted to come home to a sexual clusterfuck in progress on her living room floor. Especially not while in the middle of a fight with her new girlfriend.

I texted back, Block off the wknd 4 me if u can.

There was a long pause and I imagined him absorbing my request. Damn, he texted back finally. Must be some ass kicking u have planned.

“Maybe a little,” I muttered, shuddering as I remembered the . . . orgy I’d walked in on. But mostly I thought Cary and I needed to spend some quality downtime together. We hadn’t been living in Manhattan long. It was a new town for us, new apartment, new jobs and experiences, new partners for both of us. We were out of our element and struggling, and since we both had barge loads of baggage from our pasts, we didn’t handle struggling well. Usually we leaned on each other for balance, but we hadn’t had much time for that lately. We really needed to make the time. Up for a trip to Vegas? Just u and me?

Fuck yeah!

K . . . more later. As I silenced my phone and put it away, my gaze passed briefly over the two collage photo frames next to my monitor—one filled with photos of both of my parents and one of Cary, and the other filled with photos of me and Lauren. Lauren had put the latter collection together herself, wanting me to have a reminder of her just like the reminder she had of me on her desk. As if I needed it . . .

I loved having those images of the people I loved close by: my mom with her golden cap of curls and her bombshell smile, her curvy body scarcely covered by a tiny bikini as she enjoyed the French Riviera on my stepdad’s yacht; my stepfather, Richard Stanton, looking regal and distinguished, his silver hair oddly complementing the looks of his much younger wife; and Cary, who was captured in all his photogenic glory, with his lustrous brown hair and sparkling green eyes, his smile wide and mischievous. That million-dollar face was starting to pop up in magazines everywhere and soon would grace billboards and bus stops advertising Grey Isles clothing.

I looked across the strip of hallway and through the glass wall that encased Mark Garrity’s very small office and saw his jacket hung over the back of his Aeron chair, even though the man himself wasn’t in sight. I wasn’t surprised to find him in the break room scowling into his coffee mug; he and I shared a java dependency.

“I thought you had the hang of it,” I said, referring to his trouble with the one-cup coffee maker.

“I do, thanks to you.” Mark lifted his head and offering a charmingly crooked smile. He had gleaming dark skin, a trim goatee, and soft brown eyes. In addition to being easy on the eyes, he was a great boss—very open to educating me about the ad business and quick to trust that he didn’t have to show me how to do something twice. We worked well together, and I hoped that would be the case for a long time to come.

“Try this,” he said, reaching for a second steaming cup waiting on the counter. He handed it to me and I accepted it gratefully, appreciating that he’d been thoughtful about adding cream and sweetener, which was how I liked it.

I took a cautious sip, since it was hot, then coughed over the unexpected—and unwelcome—flavor. “What is this?”

“Blueberry-flavored coffee.”

Abruptly, I was the one scowling. “Who the hell wants to drink that?”

“Ah, see . . . it’s our job to figure out who, then sell this to them.” He lifted his mug in a toast. “Here’s to our latest account!”

Wincing, I straightened my spine and took another sip.

* * *

I was pretty sure the sickly sweet taste of artificial blueberries was still coating my tongue two hours later. Since it was time for my break, I started an Internet search for Dr. Terrence Lucas, a man who’d clearly rubbed Lauren the wrong way when I’d seen the two men together at dinner the night before. I hadn’t gotten any further than typing the doctor’s name in the search box when my desk phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered. “Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Are you serious about Vegas?” Cary asked without preamble.

“Totally.”

There was a pause. “Is this when you tell me you’re moving in with your billionaire girlfriend and I’ve got to go?”

“What? No. Are you nuts?” I squeezed my eyes shut, understanding how insecure Cary was but thinking we were too far along in our friendship for those kinds of doubts. “You’re stuck with me for life, you know that.”

“And you just up and decided we should go to Vegas?”

“Pretty much. Figured we could sip mojitos by the pool and live off room service for a couple days.”

“I’m not sure how much I can pitch in for that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on Lauren. her plane, her hotel. We’ll just cover our food and drinks.” A lie, since I planned on covering everything except the airfare, but Cary didn’t need to know that.

“And she’s not coming with us?”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at one of the photos of Lauren. I missed her already and it’d been only a couple of hours since we’d been together. “she’s got business in Arizona, so she’ll share the flights back and forth, but it’ll be just you and me in Vegas. I think we need it.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled harshly. “I could do with a change of scenery and some quality time with my best girl.”

“Okay, then. She wants to fly out by eight tomorrow night.”

“I’ll start packing. Want me to put a bag together for you, too?”

“Would you? That’d be great!” Cary could’ve been a stylist or personal shopper. He had serious talent when it came to clothes.

“camila?”

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “Thank you for putting up with my shit.”

“Shut up.”

After we hung up, I stared at the phone for a long minute, hating that Cary was so unhappy when everything in his life was going so well. He was an expert at self-sabotage, never truly believing he was worthy of happiness.

As I returned my attention to work, the Google search on my monitor reminded me of my interest in Dr. Terry Lucas. A few articles about her had been posted on the Web, complete with pictures that cemented the verification.

Pediatrician. Forty-five years of age. Married for twenty years. Nervously, I searched for “Dr. Terrence Lucas and wife,” inwardly cringing at the thought of seeing a golden-skinned, long-haired blonde. I exhaled my relief when I saw that Mrs. Lucas was a pale-skinned woman with short, bright red hair.

But that left me with more questions. I’d figured it would be a woman who’d caused the trouble between the two men.

The fact was, Lauren and I really didn’t know that much about each other. We knew the ugly stuff—at least she knew mine; I’d mostly guessed her from some pretty obvious clues. We knew some of the basic cohabitation stuff about each other after spending so many nights sleeping over at our respective apartments. she’d met half of my family and I’d met all of her. But we hadn’t been together long enough to touch on a whole lot of the periphery stuff. And frankly, I think we weren’t as forthcoming or inquisitive as we could’ve been, as if we were afraid to pile any more crap onto an already struggling relationship.

We were together because we were addicted to each other. I was never as intoxicated as I was when we were happy together, and I knew it was the same for her. We were putting ourselves through the wringer for those moments of perfection between us, but they were so tenuous that only our stubbornness, determination, and love kept us fighting for them.

Enough with making yourself crazy.

I checked my e-mail, and found my daily Google alert on “Lauren Jauregui.” The day’s digest of links led mostly to photos of Lauren, in black tie sans tie, and me at the charity dinner at the Waldorf Astoria the night before.

“God.” I couldn’t help but be reminded of my mother when looking at the pictures of me in a champagne Vera Wang cocktail dress. Not just because of how closely my looks mirrored my mom’s—aside from my hair being brown, long and straight—but also because of the mega-mogul whose arm I graced.

sinu Cabello Barker Mitchell Stanton was very, very good at being a trophy wife. She knew precisely what was expected of her and delivered without fail. Although she’d been divorced twice, both times had been by her choice and both divorces had left her exes despondent over losing her. I didn’t think less of my mother, because she gave as good as she got and didn’t take anyone for granted, but I’d grown up striving for independence. My right to say no was my most valued possession.

Minimizing my e-mail window, I pushed my personal life aside and went back to searching for market comparisons on fruity coffee. I coordinated some initial meetings between the strategists and Mark and helped Mark with brainstorming a campaign for a gluten-free restaurant. Noon approached and I was starting to feel seriously hungry when my phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting.

“camila?” an accented female voice greeted me. “It’s Magdalene. Do you have a minute?”

I leaned back in my chair, alert. Magdalene and I had once shared a moment of sympathy over Corinne’s unexpected and unwanted reappearance in Lauren’s life, but I’d never forget how vicious Magdalene had been to me the first time we’d met. “Just. What’s up?”

She sighed, then spoke quickly, her words flowing in a rush. “I was sitting at the table behind Corinne last night. I could hear a bit of what was being said between her and Lauren during dinner.”

My stomach tensed, preparing for an emotional blow. Magdalene knew just how to exploit my insecurities about Lauren. “Stirring up crap while I’m at work is a new low,” I said coldly. “I don’t—”

“she wasn’t ignoring you.”

My mouth hung open a second, and she quickly filled the silence.

“she was managing her, camila. She was making suggestions for where to take you around New York since you’re new in town, but she was doing it by playing the old remember-when-you-and-I-went-there game.”

“A walk down memory lane,” I muttered, grateful now that I hadn’t been able to hear much of Lauren’s low-voiced conversation with her ex.

“Yes.” Magdalene took a deep breath. “You left because you thought she was ignoring you for her. I just want you to know that she seemed to be thinking about you, trying to keep Corinne from upsetting you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Who says I do? I owe you one, Camila, for the way I introduced myself.”

I thought about that. Yeah, she owed me for when she ambushed me in the bathroom with her catty jealous bullshit. Not that I bought it as her sole motivation. Maybe I was just the lesser of two evils. Maybe she was keeping her enemies close. “All right. Thank you.”

No denying I felt better. A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying around was suddenly relieved.

“Something else,” Magdalene went on. “she went after you.”

My grip tightened on the phone receiver. Lauren always came after me . . . because I was always running. My recovery was so fragile that I’d learned to protect it at all costs. When something threatened my stability, I ditched it.

“There have been other women in her life who’ve tried ultimatums like that, camila. They got bored or they wanted her attention or some kind of grand gesture . . . So they walked away and expected her to come after them. You know what she did?”

“Nothing,” I said softly, knowing my man. A man who never spent social time with women she slept with and never slept with women she associated with socially. Corinne and I were the sole exceptions to that rule, which was yet another reason why her ex sent me into fits of jealousy.

“Nothing more than making sure Angus dropped them off safely,” she confirmed, making me think it’d been a tactic she’d tried at some point. “But when you left, she couldn’t chase after you fast enough. And she wasn’t herself when she said good-bye. she seemed . . . off.”

Because she’d felt fear. My eyes closed as I mentally kicked myself. Hard.

Lauren had told me more than once that it terrified her when I ran, because she couldn’t handle the thought that I might not come back. What good did it do to say that I couldn’t imagine living without her when I so often showed her otherwise with my actions? Was it any wonder she hadn’t opened up to me about her past?

I had to stop running. Lauren and I were both going to have to stand and fight for this, for us, if we were going to have any hope of making our relationship work.

“Do I owe you now?” I asked neutrally, returning Mark’s wave as he left for lunch.

Magdalene exhaled in a rush. “Lauren and I have known each other a long time. Our mothers are best friends. You and I will see each other around, Camila, and I’m hoping we can find a way to avoid any awkwardness.”

The woman had come up to me and told me that the minute Lauren “shoved her dick” in me, I was “done.” And she’d hit me with that at a moment when I was especially vulnerable.

“Listen, Magdalene, if you don’t cause drama, we’ll get by.” And since she was being so forthright . . . “I can screw up my relationship with Lauren all by myself, trust me. I don’t need any help.”

She laughed softly. “That was my mistake, I think—I was too careful and too accommodating. she has to work at it with you. Anyway . . . I’ve taken up my minute. I’ll let you go.”

“Enjoy your weekend,” I said, in lieu of thanks. I still couldn’t trust her motivation.

“You, too.”

As I returned the receiver to its cradle, my gaze went to the photos of me and Lauren. I was abruptly overwhelmed by feelings of greed and possession. she was mine, yet I couldn’t be sure from one day to the next whether she’d stay mine. And the thought of any other woman having her made me insane.

I pulled open my bottom drawer and dug my smartphone out of my purse. Driven by the need to have her thinking as fiercely about me, I texted her about my sudden desperate hunger to devour her whole: I’d give anything to be sucking your cock right now.

Just thinking about how she looked when I took her in my mouth . . . the feral sounds she made when she was about to come . . .

Standing, I deleted the text the moment I saw it’d been delivered, then dropped my phone back in my purse. Since it was noon, I closed all the windows on my computer and headed out to reception to find Megumi.

“You hungry for anything in particular?” she asked, pushing to her feet and giving me a chance to admire her belted, sleeveless lavender dress.

I coughed because her question came so soon after my text. “No. Your choice. I’m not picky.”

We pushed out through the glass doors to reach the elevators.

“I am so ready for the weekend,” Megumi said with a groan as she stabbed the call button with an acrylic-tipped finger. “A day and a half left to go.”

“Got something fun planned?”

“That remains to be seen.” She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Blind date,” she explained ruefully.

“Ah. Do you trust the person setting you up?”

“My roommate. I expect the guy will at least be physically attractive, because I know where she sleeps at night and paybacks are a bitch.”

I was smiling as an elevator car reached our floor and we stepped inside. “Well, that ups your odds for a good time.”

“Not really, since she found him by going on a blind date with him first. She swears he’s great, just more my type than hers.”

“Hmm.”

“I know, right?” Megumi shook her head and looked up at the decorative, old-fashioned needle above the car doors that marked the passing floors.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, yeah. Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely.” We’d just stepped out into the lobby when I felt my purse vibrate beneath my arm. As we passed through the turnstiles, I dug for my phone and felt my stomach tighten at the sight of Lauren’s name. she was calling, not sexting me back.

“Excuse me,” I said to Megumi before answering.

She waved it off nonchalantly. “Go for it.”

“Hey,” I greeted her playfully.

“camila.”

I missed a step hearing the way she growled my name. There was a wealth of promise in the roughness of her voice.

Slowing, I found I was speechless, just from hearing her say my name with that edginess I craved—the sharp bite that told me she wanted to be inside me more than she wanted anything else in the world.

While people flowed around me, entering and exiting the building, I was halted by the weighted silence on my phone. The unspoken and nearly irresistible demand. she made no sound at all—I couldn’t even hear her breathing—but I felt her hunger. If I didn’t have Megumi waiting patiently for me, I’d be riding an elevator to the top floor to satisfy her unvoiced command to make good on my offer.

The memory of the time I’d sucked her off in her office simmered through me, making my mouth water. I swallowed. “Lauren . . .”

“You wanted my attention—now you have it. I want to hear you say those words.”

I felt my face flush. “I can’t. Not here. Let me call you later.”

“Step over by the column and out of the way.”

Startled, I looked around for her. Then I remembered that the Caller ID put her in her office. My gaze lifted, searching for the security cameras. Immediately, I felt her eyes on me, hot and wanting. Arousal surged through me, spurred by her desire.

“Hurry along, angel. Your friend’s waiting.”

I moved to the column, my breathing fast and audible.

“Now tell me. Your text made me hard, camila. What are you going to do about it?”

My hand went to my throat, my gaze sliding helplessly to Megumi, who watched me with raised brows. I lifted one finger up, asking for another minute, then turned my back to her and whispered, “I want you in my mouth.”

“Why? To play with me? To tease me like you’re doing now?” There was no heat in her voice, just calm severity.

I knew to pay careful attention when Lauren got serious about sex.

“No.” I lifted my face to the tinted dome in the ceiling that concealed the nearest security camera. “To make you come. I love making you come, Lauren.”

she exhaled harshly. “A gift, then.”

Only I knew what it meant for Lauren to view a sexual act as a gift. For her, sex had previously been about pain and degradation or lust and necessity. Now, with me, it was about pleasure and love. “Always.”

“Good. Because I treasure you, Camila, and what we have. Even our driving urge to fuck each other constantly is precious to me, because it matters.”

I sagged into the column, admitting to myself that I’d fallen into an old destructive habit—I’d exploited sexual attraction to ease my insecurities. If Lauren was lusting after me, she couldn’t be lusting after anyone else. How did she always know what was going on in my mind?

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “It matters.”

There’d been a time when I’d turned to sex to feel affection, confusing momentary desire with genuine caring. Which was why I now insisted on having some sort of friendly framework in place before I went to bed with a man. I never again wanted to roll out of a lover’s bed feeling worthless and dirty.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to cheapen what I shared with Lauren just because I was irrationally scared of losing her.

It hit me then that I was off balance. I had this sick feeling in my gut, like something awful was going to happen.

“You can have what you want after work, angel.” her voice deepened, grew raspier. “In the meantime, enjoy lunch with your co-worker. I’ll be thinking about you. And your mouth.”

“I love you, Lauren.”

It took a couple of deep breaths after I hung up to compose myself enough to join Megumi again. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Things still hot and heavy with you and Lauren Jauregui?” She glanced at me with a slight smile.

“Umm . . .” Oh yes. “Yes, that’s fine, too.” And I wished desperately that I could talk about it. I wished I could just open the valve and gush about my overwhelming feelings for her. How thoughts of her consumed me, how the feel of her beneath my hands drove me wild, how the passion of her tortured soul cut into me like the sharpest blade.

But I couldn’t. Not ever. She was too visible, too well known. Private tidbits about her life were worth a small fortune. I couldn’t risk it.

“she sure is,” Megumi agreed. “Damn fine. Did you know her before you started working here?”

“No. Although I suppose we would have met eventually.” Because of our pasts. My mother gave generously to many abused children’s charities, as did Lauren. It was inevitable that Lauren and I would’ve crossed paths at some point. I wondered what that meeting would have been like—her with a gorgeous blonde on her arm and me with Cary. Would we have had the same visceral reaction to each other from a distance as we’d had up close in the Crossfire lobby?

she’d wanted me the moment she saw me on the street.

“I wondered.” Megumi pushed through the revolving lobby door. “I read that it was serious between you two,” she went on when I joined her outside on the sidewalk. “So I thought maybe you’d known her before.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on those gossip blogs.”

“So it’s not serious?”

“I didn’t say that.” It was too serious at times. Painfully, brutally so.

She shook her head. “God . . . listen to me pry. Sorry. Gossip is one of my vices. So are extremely hot women like Lauren Jauregui. I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to hook up with a gir whose body screams sex like that. Tell me she’s awesome in bed.”

I smiled. It was good to hang out with another girl. Not that Cary couldn’t also be appreciative of a hot guy, but nothing beat girl talk. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Lucky bitch.” Bumping shoulders with me to show she was teasing, she said, “How about that roommate of yours? From the photos I saw, she’s gorgeous, too. Is she single? Wanna hook me up?”

Turning my head quickly, I hid a wince. I’d learned the hard way never to set up an acquaintance or friend with Cary. He was so easy to love, which led to a lot of broken hearts because he couldn’t love back the same way. The moment things started going too well, Cary sabotaged them. “I don’t know if he’s single or not. Things are . . . complicated in his life at the moment.”

“Well, if the opportunity presents itself, I’m certainly not opposed. Just sayin’. You like tacos?”

“Love ’em.”

“I know a great place a couple blocks up. Come on.”

* * *

Things were going well in my world as Megumi and I headed back from lunch. Forty minutes of gossip, guy-ogling, and three awesome carne asada tacos later, I was feeling pretty good. And we were returning to work a little over ten minutes early, which I was glad for since I hadn’t been the most punctual employee lately, even though Mark never complained.

The city was thrumming around us, taxis and people surging through the growing heat and humidity as they crammed what they could into the insufficient hours of the day. I people-watched shamelessly, my eyes skimming over everyone and everything.

Men in business suits walked alongside women in flowing skirts and flip-flops. Ladies in haute couture and five-hundred-dollar shoes teetered past steaming hot dog vendor carts and shouting hawkers. The eclectic mix of New York was heaven to me, stirring an excitement that made me feel more vibrant here than anyplace else I’d ever lived.

We were stopped by a traffic light directly across from the Crossfire, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the black Bentley sitting in front of it. Lauren must’ve just gotten back from lunch. I couldn’t help but think about her sitting in her car on the day we’d met, watching me as I took in the imposing beauty of her Crossfire Building. It made me tingly just thinking about it—

Suddenly, I went cold.

Because a striking blonde breezed out of the revolving doors just then and paused, giving me a good, long look at her—Lauren’s ideal, whether she’d been aware of it or not. A woman I’d witnessed her fixate on the moment she’d seen her in the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. A woman whose poise and hold over Lauren brought out all my worst insecurities.

Corinne Giroux looked like a breath of fresh air in a cream-colored sheath dress and cherry red heels. She ran a hand over her waist-length hair, which wasn’t quite as sleek as it’d appeared last night when I’d met her. In fact, it looked a little disheveled. And her fingers were rubbing at her mouth, wiping along the outline of her lips.

I pulled my smartphone out, activated the camera, and snapped a picture. With the proximity of the zoom, I could see why she was fussing with her lipstick—it was smeared. No, more like mashed. As if from a passionate kiss.

The light changed. Megumi and I moved with the flow, closing the distance between me and the woman who’d once had Lauren’s promise to marry her. Angus stepped out of the Bentley and came around, speaking to her briefly before opening the back door for her. The feeling of betrayal—Angus’s and Lauren’s—was so fierce, I couldn’t catch my breath. I swayed on my feet.

“Hey.” Megumi caught my arm to steady me. “And we only had virgin margaritas, lightweight!”

I watched Corinne’s willowy body slide into the back of Lauren’s car with practiced grace. My fists clenched as fury surged through me. Through the haze of my angry tears, the Bentley pulled away from the curb and disappeared.

Chapter 1

I loved New York with the kind of mad passion I reserved for only one other thing in my life. The city was a microcosm of new world opportunities and old world traditions. Conservatives rubbed shoulders with bohemians. Oddities coexisted with priceless rarities. The pulsing energy of the city fueled international business bloodlines and drew people from all over the world.

And the embodiment of all that vibrancy, driving ambition, and world-renowned power had just screwed me to two toe-curlingly awesome orgasms.

As I padded over to her massive walk-in closet, I glanced at lauren jauregui’s sex-rumpled bed and shivered with remembered pleasure. My hair was still damp from a shower, and the towel wrapped around me was my only article of clothing. I had an hour and a half before I had to be at work, which was cutting it a little too close for comfort. Obviously, I was going to have to allot time in my morning routine for sex, otherwise I’d always be scrambling. Lauren woke up ready to conquer the world, and she liked to start that domination with me.

How lucky was I?

Because it was sliding into July in New York and the temperature was heating up, I chose a slim pair of pressed natural-linen slacks and a sleeveless poplin shell in a soft brown that matched my eyes. Since I had no hairstyling talent, I pulled my long drown hair back in a simple ponytail, then made up my face. When I was presentable, I left the bedroom.

I heard Lauren's voice the moment I stepped into the hallway. A tiny shiver moved through me when I realized she was angry, her voice low and clipped. she didn’t rile easily . . . unless she was ticked off with me. I could get her to raise her voice and curse, even shove her hands through her glorious shoulder-length mane of inky black hair.

For the most part, though, Lauren was a testament to leashed power. There was no need for her to shout when she could get people to quake in their shoes with just a look or a tersely spoken word.

I found her in her home office. She stood with her back to the door and a Bluetooth receiver in her ear. Her arms were crossed and she was staring out the windows of her Fifth Avenue penthouse apartment, giving the impression of a very solitary woman, an individual who was separate from the world around her, yet entirely capable of ruling it.

Leaning into the doorjamb, I drank her in. I was certain my view of the skyline was more awe-inspiring than her. My vantage point included her superimposed over those towering skyscrapers, an equally powerful and impressive presence. she’d finished her shower before I managed to crawl out of bed. her seriously addictive body was now dressed in two pieces of an expensively tailored three-piece suit—an admitted hot button of mine. The rear view of her showcased a perfect ass and a powerful back encased in a vest.

On the wall was a massive collage of photos of us as a couple and one very intimate one that she’d taken of me while I was sleeping. Most were pictures taken by the paparazzi who followed her every move. She was Lauren Jauregui, of Jauregui Industries, and at the ridiculous age of twenty-eight, she was one of the top twenty-five richest people in the world. I was pretty sure she owned a significant chunk of Manhattan; I was positive she was the hottest woman on the planet. And she kept photos of me everywhere she worked, as if I could possibly be as fun to look at as she was.

she turned, pivoting gracefully to catch me with her icy green gaze. Of course she’d known I was there, watching her. There was a crackling in the air when we were near each other, a sense of anticipation like the coiled silence before the boom of thunder. she’d probably deliberately waited a beat before facing me, giving me the opportunity to check her out because she knew I loved to look at her.

Dark and Dangerous. And all mine.

God . . . I never got used to the impact of that face. Those sculpted cheekbones and dark winged brows, the thickly lashed green eyes, and those lips . . . perfectly etched to be both sensual and wicked. I loved when they smiled with sexual invitation, and I shivered when they thinned into a stern line. And when she pressed those lips to my body, I burned for her.

Jeez, listen to yourself. My mouth curved, remembering how annoyed I used to get at pals who waxed poetic about their boyfriends’ good looks. But here I was, constantly awed by the gorgeousness of the complicated, frustrating, messed-up, sexy-as-sin woman I was falling deeper in love with every day.

As we stared at each other, her scowl didn’t lessen, nor did she cease speaking to the poor soul on the receiving end of her call, but her gaze warmed from its chilly irritation to scorching heat.

I should’ve gotten used to the change that came over her when she looked at me, but it still hit me with a force strong enough to rock me on my feet. That look conveyed how hard and deep she wanted to fuck me—which she did every chance she got—and it also afforded me a glimpse of her raw, unrelenting force of will. A core of strength and command marked everything Lauren did in life.

“See you at eight on Saturday,” she finished, before yanking off the earpiece and tossing it on her desk. “Come here, camila.”

Another shiver slid through me at the way she said my name, with the same authoritative bite she used when she said Come, Camila, while I was beneath her . . . filled with her . . . desperate to climax for her . . .

“No time for that, ace.” I backed into the hallway, because I was weak where she was concerned. The soft rasp in her smooth, cultured voice was nearly capable of making me orgasm just listening to it. And whenever she touched me, I caved.

I hurried to the kitchen to make us some coffee.

she muttered something under her breath and followed me out, her long stride easily gaining on mine. I found myself pinned to the hallway wall by a six feet, two inches of hard, hot male.

“You know what happens when you run, angel.” Lauren nipped my lower lip with her teeth and then soothed the sting with the caress of her tongue. “I catch you.”

Inside me, something sighed with happy surrender and my body went lax with pleasure at being pressed so close to her. I craved her constantly, so deeply it was a physical ache. What I felt was lust, but it was also so much more. Something so precious and profound that Lauren's lust for me wasn’t the trigger it would’ve been with another man. If anyone else had attempted to subdue me with the weight of their body, I would’ve freaked out. But it had never been an issue with lauren. She knew what I needed and how much I could take.

The sudden flash of her grin stopped my heart.

Confronted with that breathtaking face framed by that lustrous dark hair, I felt my knees weaken just a little. She was so polished and urbane except for the decadent length of those silky strands.

she nuzzled her nose against mine. “You can’t smile at me like that, then walk away. Tell me what you were thinking about when I was on the phone.”

My lips twisted wryly. “How gorgeous you are. It’s sickening how often I think about that. I need to get over it already.”

she cupped the back of my thigh and urged me tighter against her, teasing me with an expert roll of her hips against mine. She was outrageously gifted in bed. And she knew it. “Damn if I’ll let you.”

“Oh?” Heat slid sinuously through my veins, my body too greedy for the feel of her. “You can’t tell me you want another starry-eyed woman hanging on you, Miss. Hates-Exaggerated-Expectations.”

“What I want,” she purred, cupping my jaw and rubbing my bottom lip with the pad of her thumb, “is you being too busy thinking about me to think about anyone else.”

I pulled in a slow and shaky breath. I was completely seduced by the smoldering look in her eyes, the provocative tone of her voice, the heat of her body, and the mouthwatering scent of her skin. She was my drug, and I had no desire to kick the habit.

“Lauren,” I breathed, entranced.

With a soft groan, she sealed her chiseled mouth over mine, stealing away thoughts of what time it was with a lush, deep kiss . . . a kiss that almost succeeded in distracting me from seeing the insecurity she’d just revealed.

I pushed my fingers into her hair to hold her still and kissed her back, my tongue sliding along her, stroking. We’d been a couple for such a short period of time. Less than a month. Worse, neither of us knew how to have a relationship like the one we were attempting to build—a relationship in which we refused to pretend we weren’t both seriously broken.

her arms banded around me and tightened possessively. “I wanted to spend the weekend with you down in the Florida Keys—naked.”

“Umm, sounds nice.” More than nice. As big of a kick as I got out of Lauren in a three-piece suit, I much preferred her stripped to the skin. I avoided pointing out that I wouldn’t be available this weekend . . .

“Now I’ve got to spend the weekend taking care of business,” she muttered, her lips moving against mine.

“Business you put off to be with me?” she’d been leaving work early to spend time with me, and I knew that had to be costing her. My mother was in her third marriage, and all of her spouses were successful, wealthy moguls of one kind or another. I knew the price for ambition was very late hours.

“I pay other people a generous salary so I can be with you.”

Nice dodge, but noting the flash of irritation in her gaze, I distracted her. “Thank you. Let’s get some coffee before we run out of time.”

Lauren stroked her tongue along my bottom lip, then released me. “I’d like to get off the ground by eight tomorrow night. Pack cool and light. Arizona’s got dry heat.”

“What?” I blinked at her retreating back as it disappeared into her office. “Arizona is where your business is?”

“Unfortunately.”

Uh . . . whoa. Instead of risking my shot at coffee, I postponed arguing and continued on to the kitchen. I passed through Lauren's spacious apartment with its stunning prewar architecture and slender arched windows, my heels alternately clicking over gleaming hardwood and muffled by Aubusson rugs. Decorated in dark woods and neutral fabrics, the luxurious space was brightened by jeweled accents. As much as her place screamed money, it managed to remain warm and welcoming, a comfortable place to relax and feel pampered.

When I reached the kitchen, I wasted no time in shoving a travel mug under the one-cup coffeemaker. Lauren joined me with her jacket draped over one arm and her cell phone in her hand. I put another portable mug under the spout for her before I went to the fridge for some half-and-half.

“It might be fortunate after all.” I faced her and reminded her of my roommate issue. “I need to knock heads with Cary this weekend.”

Lauren dropped her phone in the inner pocket of her jacket, then hung the garment off the back of one of the bar stools at the island. “You’re coming with me, camila.”

Exhaling in a rush, I added half-and-half to my coffee. “To do what? Lie around naked, waiting for you to finish work and fuck me?”

her gaze held mine as she collected her mug and sipped her steaming coffee with too-calm deliberation. “Are we going to argue?”

“Are you going to be difficult? We talked about this. You know I can’t leave Cary after what happened last night.” The multibody tangle I’d found in my living room gave new meaning to the word clusterfuck.

I put the carton back in the fridge and absorbed the sensation of being drawn to her inexorably by the force of her will. It’d been that way from the beginning. When she chose to, Lauren could make me feel her demands. And it was very, very difficult to ignore the part of me that begged to give her whatever she wanted. “You’re going to take care of business and I’m going to take care of my best friend, then we’ll go back to taking care of each other.”

“I won’t be back until Sunday night, camila.”

Oh . . . I felt a sharp twinge in my belly at hearing we’d be apart that long. Most couples didn’t spend every free moment together, but we weren’t like most people. We both had hang-ups, insecurities, and an addiction to each other that required regular contact to keep us functioning properly. I hated being apart from her. I rarely went more than a couple of hours without thinking of her.

“You can’t stand the thought, either,” she said quietly, studying me in that way she had that saw everything. “By Sunday we’ll both be worthless.”

I blew on the surface of my coffee, then took a quick sip. I was unsettled at the thought of going the entire weekend without her. Worse, I hated the thought of her spending that amount of time away from me. She had a world of choices and possibilities out there, women who weren’t so screwed up and difficult to be with.

Still, I managed to say, “We both know that’s not exactly healthy, lauren.”

“Says who? No one else knows what it’s like to be us.”

Okay, I’d give her that.

“We need to get to work,” I said, knowing this impasse was going to drive both of us crazy all day. We’d sort it out later, but for now we were stuck with it.

Resting her hip against the counter, she crossed her ankles and stubbornly settled in. “What we need is for you to come with me.”

“lauren.” My foot began to tap against the travertine tile. “I can’t just give up my life for you. If I turn into arm candy, you’ll get bored real quick. Hell, I’d get sick of myself. It shouldn’t kill us to spend a couple days straightening out other parts of our lives, even if we hate doing it.”

her gaze captured mine. “You’re too much trouble to be arm candy.”

“Takes a troublemaker to know one.”

Lauren straightened, shrugging off her brooding sensuality and instantly capturing me with her severe intensity. So mercurial—like me. “You’ve gotten a lot of press lately, camila. It’s no secret that you’re in New York. I can’t leave you here while I’m gone. Bring Cary with us if you have to. You can butt heads with him while you’re waiting for me to finish work and fuck you.”

“Ha.” Even as I acknowledged her attempt to lighten the strain with humor, I realized what her real objection to being apart from me was—Nathan. My former stepbrother. The living nightmare from my past that Lauren seemed to fear might reappear in my present. It frightened me to concede that she wasn’t totally wrong. The shield of anonymity that had protected me for years had been shattered by our highly public relationship.

God . . . we totally didn’t have the time to get into that mess, but I knew it wasn’t a point Lauren would concede on. She was a woman who claimed her possessions utterly, fought off her competitors with ruthless precision, and would never allow any harm to come to me. I was her safe place, which made me rare and invaluable to her.

Lauren glanced at her watch. “Time to go, angel.”

She fetched her jacket, then gestured for me to precede her through her luxurious living room, where I grabbed my purse and the bag holding my walking shoes and other necessities. A few moments later, we’d finished the descent to the ground floor in her private elcamilator and slid into the back of her black Bentley SUV.

“Hi, Angus,” I greeted her driver, who touched the brim of his old-fashioned chauffeur’s hat.

“Good morning, Miss.Cabello,” he replied, smiling. He was an older gentleman, with a liberal sprinkling of white in his red hair. I liked him for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that he’d been driving Lauren around since grade school and genuinely cared for her.

A quick glance at the Rolex my mother and stepfather had given me told me I’d make it to work on time . . . if we didn’t get boxed in by traffic. Even as I thought this, Angus slid deftly into the sea of taxis and cars on the street. After the tense quiet of Lauren's apartment, the noise of Manhattan woke me as effectively as a jolt of caffeine. The blaring of horns and the thud of tires over a manhole cover invigorated me. Rapid-moving streams of pedestrians flanked both sides of the clogged street, while buildings stretched ambitiously toward the sky, keeping us in shadow even as the sun climbed.

God, I seriously loved New York. I took the time every day to absorb it, to try to draw it into me.

I settled into the leather seat back and reached for Lauren's hand, giving it a squeeze. “Would you feel better if Cary and I left town for the weekend? Maybe a quick trip to Vegas?”

Lauren's gaze narrowed. “Am I a threat to Cary? Is that why you won’t consider Arizona?”

“What? No. I don’t think so.” Shifting in the seat, I faced her. “Sometimes it takes an all-nighter before I can get him to open up.”

“You don’t think so?” She repeated my answer, ignoring everything but the first words out of my mouth.

“He might feel like he can’t reach out to me when he needs to talk because I’m always with you,” I clarified, steadying my mug with two hands as we drove over a pothole. “Listen, you’re going to have to get over any jealousy about Cary. When I say he’s like a brother to me, Lauren, I’m not kidding. You don’t have to like him but you have to understand that he’s a permanent part of my life.”

“Do you tell him the same thing about me?”

“I don’t have to. He knows. I’m trying to reach a compromise here—”

“I never compromise.”

My brows rose. “In business, I’m sure you don’t. But this is a relationship, lauren. It requires give and—”

Lauren's growl cut me off. “My plane, my hotel, and if you leave the premises you take a security team with you.”

Her sudden, reluctant capitulation surprised me silent for a long minute. Long enough for her brow to arch over those piercing green eyes in a look that said take it or leave it.

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” I prodded. “I’ll have Cary with me.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust him with your safety after last night.” As she drank her coffee, her posture made it very clear that the conversation was done in her mind. she’d given me her acceptable options.

I might’ve gotten bitchy about that kind of high-handedness if I didn’t understand that taking care of me was her motivation. My past had vicious skeletons, and dating Lauren had put me in a media spotlight that could bring Nathan Barker right to my door.

Plus, controlling everything around her was just part of who Lauren was. It came with the package and I had to make accommodations for that.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Which hotel is yours?”

“I have a few. You can take your pick.” she turned her head to look out the window. “Scott will email you the list. When you’ve decided, let him know and he’ll make the arrangements. We’ll fly out together and return together.”

Leaning my shoulder into the seat, I took a drink of my coffee and noted the way her hand was fisted on her thigh. In the tinted window’s reflection, Lauren's face was impassive, but I could feel her moodiness.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“Don’t. I’m not happy about this, camila.” A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Your roommate fucks up and I have to spend the weekend without you.”

Hating that she was unhappy, I took her coffee from her and set our travel mugs in the backseat cup holders. Then I climbed into her lap, straddling her. I draped my arms around her shoulders. “I appreciate you bending on this, lauren. It means a lot to me.”

she caught me in her fierce green gaze. “I knew you were going to drive me insane the moment I saw you.”

I smiled, recalling how we’d met. “Sprawled on my ass on the lobby floor of the Crossfire Building?”

“Before. Outside.”

Frowning, I asked, “Outside where?”

“On the sidewalk.” Lauren gripped my hips, squeezing in that possessive, commanding way of her that made me ache for her. “I was leaving for a meeting. A minute later and I would’ve missed you. I’d just gotten into the car when you came around the corner.”

I remembered the Bentley idling at the curb that day. I’d been too awed by the building to take note of the sleek vehicle when I arrived, but I had noticed it when I left.

“You hit me the instant I saw you,” she said gruffly. “I couldn’t look away. I wanted you immediately. Excessively. Almost violently.”

How could I not have known that there’d been more to our first meeting than I’d realized? I thought we’d stumbled across each other by accident. But she’d been leaving for the day . . . which meant she had deliberately backtracked inside. For me.

“You stopped right next to the Bentley,” she went on, “and your head tilted back. You were looking up at the building and I pictured you on your knees, looking up at me that same way.”

The low growl in Lauren's voice had me squirming in her lap. “What way?” I whispered, mesmerized by the fire in her eyes.

“With excitement. A little awe . . . a little intimidation.” Cupping my rear, she urged me tighter against her. “There was no way to stop myself from following you inside. And there you were, right where I’d wanted you, damn near kneeling in front of me. In that minute, I had a half dozen fantasies about what I was going to do to you when I got you naked.”

I swallowed, remembering my similar reaction to her. “Looking at you for the first time made me think about sex. Screaming, sheet-clawing sex.”

“I saw that.” her hands slid up either side of my spine. “And I knew you saw me, too. Saw what I am . . . what I have inside me. You saw right through me.”

And that was what had knocked me on my ass—literally. I’d looked into her eyes and realized how tightly reined she was, what a shadowed soul she had. I had seen power and hunger and control and demand. Somewhere inside me, I’d known she would take me over. It was a relief to know she’d felt the same upheaval over me.

Lauren's hands hugged my shoulder blades and pulled me closer, until our foreheads touched. “No one’s ever seen before, camila. You’re the only one.”

My throat tightened painfully. In so many ways, Lauren was a hard woman, yet she could be so sweet to me. Almost childishly so, which I loved because it was pure and uncontrolled. If no one else bothered to look beyond her striking face and impressive bank account, they didn’t deserve to know her. “I had no idea. You were so . . . cool. I didn’t seem to affect you at all.”

“Cool?” she scoffed. “I was on fire for you. I’ve been fucked up ever since.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“You made me need you,” she rasped. “Now I can’t stand the thought of two days without you.”

Holding her jaw in my hands, I kissed her tenderly, my lips coaxing and apologetic. “I love you, too,” I whispered against her beautiful mouth. “I can’t stand being away from you, either.”

her returning kiss was greedy, devouring, and yet the way she held me close to her was gentle and reverent. As if I were precious. When she pulled back, we were both breathing hard.

“I’m not even your type,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood before we went into work. Lauren's preference for blondes was well known and well documented.

I felt the Bentley pull over and to a halt. Angus got out of the car to give us privacy, leaving the engine and air-conditioning running. I looked out the window and saw the Crossfire beside us.

“About the type thing—” Lauren's head fell back to rest against the seat. She took a deep breath. “Corinne was surprised by you. You weren’t what she’d expected.”

My jaw tightened at the mention of Lauren's former fiancée. Even knowing that their relationship had been about friendship and loneliness for her, not love, didn’t stop the claws of envy from digging into me. Jealousy was one of my virulent flaws. “Because I’m brunette?”

“Because . . . you don’t look like her.”

My breath caught. I hadn’t considered that Corinne had set the standard for her. Even Magdalene Perez—one of Lauren's friends who wished she were more—had said she’d kept her light hair long to emulate Corinne. But I hadn’t grasped the complexity of that observation. My God . . . if it was true, Corinne had tremendous power over Lauren, way more than I could bear. My heart rate quickened and my stomach churned. I hated her irrationally. Hated that she’d had even a piece of her. Hated every woman who’d known her touch . . . her lust . . . her amazing body.

I started sliding off her.

“camila.” She stayed me by tightening her grip on my thighs. “I don’t know if she’s right.”

I looked down at where she held me, and the sight of my promise ring on the finger of her right hand—my brand of ownership—calmed me. So did the look of confusion on her face when I met her gaze. “You don’t?”

“If that’s what it was, it wasn’t conscious. I wasn’t looking for her in other women. I didn’t know I was looking for anything until I saw you.”

My hands slid down her lapels as relief filled me. Maybe she hadn’t been consciously looking for her, but even if she had, I couldn’t be more different from Corinne in appearance and temperament. I was unique to her; a woman apart from her others in every way. I wished that could be enough to kill my jealousy.

“Maybe it wasn’t a preference so much as a pattern.” I smoothed her frown line with a fingertip. “You should ask Dr. Petersen when we see her tonight. I wish I had more answers after all my years of therapy, but I don’t. There’s a lot that’s inexplicable between us, isn’t there? I still have no idea what you see in me that’s hooked you.”

“It’s what you see in me, angel,” she said quietly, her features softening. “That you can know what I have in me and still want me as much as I want you. I go to sleep every night afraid I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. Or that I scared you away . . . that I dreamed you—”

“No. lauren.” Jesus. She broke my heart every day. Shattered me.

“I know I don’t tell you how I feel about you in the same way you tell me, but you have me. You know that.”

“Yes, I know you love me, lauren.” Insanely. Outrageously. Obsessively. Just like my feelings for her.

“I’m caught up with you, camila.” With her head tilted back, Lauren pulled me down for the sweetest of kisses, her firm lips moving gently beneath mine. “I’d kill for you,” she whispered, “give up everything I own for you . . . but I won’t give you up. Two days is my limit. Don’t ask for more than that; I can’t give it to you.”

I didn’t take her words lightly. her wealth insulated her, gave her the power and control that had been stolen from her at some point in her life. she’d suffered brutality and violation, just as I had. That she would consider it worthwhile to lose her peace of mind just to keep me meant more than the words I love you.

“I just need the two days, ace, and I’ll make them worth your while.”

The starkness of her gaze bled away, replaced by sexual heat. “Oh? Planning on pacifying me with sex, angel?”

“Yes,” I admitted shamelessly. “Lots of it. After all, the tactic seems to work well for you.”

her mouth curved, but her gaze had a sharpness that quickened my breath. The dark look she gave me reminded me—as if I could forget—that Lauren wasn’t a man who could be managed or tamed.

“Ah, Camila,” she purred, sprawled against the seat with the predatory insouciance of a sleek panther who’d neatly trapped a mouse in her den.

A delicious shiver moved through me. When it came to Lauren, I was more than willing to be devoured.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Jauregui Fire