Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,28
came to Cameron McGregor.
“Okay,” I said, but it came out like a croak. Visions of him scrubbing my back or climbing in with me made my skin heat and my cheeks burn. The rest of my body wasn’t far behind.
Shit, I’m in trouble.
He got up, grabbed the bag, and swept all the body stuff into it. Then he walked into my bedroom like he owned the place, and I watched in silence. The sound of water running carried out to the living room. Then his footsteps, followed by his return.
“Come on,” he said as he held a hand out to me.
Placing my smaller hand in his large calloused one, I stood. My head throbbed slightly, but I ignored it. Unsure of where we stood, I followed him as he led me through my room and into the third bedroom my grandparents had closed off from the hall and converted into a master bath.
“Awww” escaped me as I saw the two jar candles burning on the counter, giving the only light in the room. He had the bath bombs set out on the counter in a row. Along with those, there were lotions, sprays, scrubs, and essential oils. Jesus, he wasn’t playing.
“How many baths do you think I’m going to take?” I asked with an amused smirk as I motioned to the array of colorful spheres. An endearing grin blossomed on his handsome face, and that dimple teased me.
“I wasn’t sure which you’d like best, so I got one of each.”
It was such a sweet gesture, tears welled. One step closer to that edge.
The big oaf then wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried. There was so much blood, and you were out cold.”
He was holding me so tight, I wasn’t sure if he was trembling or it was simply the magnitude of his embrace. My arms instinctively went around his waist, and I breathed him in. It was a dangerous, but it was so dang awesome to be held.
It was my weakness. I was a cuddler—which was probably why drunk me begged him to stay and hold me that fateful night. When the hug went on so long I started to have those wild, iron-winged butterflies in my guts, I extricated myself and stepped back.
“Thank you. For all of this.” I motioned with my hand to all the stuff he’d brought.
He nodded and shoved his hands back in his pockets.
I wanted to scream at him not to do that because it pulled the front of his jeans down and a sliver of his taut lower abs peeked between his waistband and his shirt. It had me wanting to rip my clothes off and pull him into the tub with me.
“Um,” I said, then bit my bottom lip.
“Right. Okay, I better go. I have practice early in the morning. You’re not teaching tomorrow, are you? You should take the week off,” he said, prolonging his stay.
“I can’t afford to take the entire week off, but I arranged for a sub for tomorrow and Tuesday.”
“Okay, well, that’s better than nothing. Well, I’m gonna go,” he said again as he cast a longing look at the tub, which sent my pulse skittering.
“Okay. Bye, and thanks again,” I repeated. He seemed to stare at my lips. The desire was palpable in the air. Like you could cut it with a knife thick.
Inside, I screamed Kiss me!
Blinking rapidly, he took another step back. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you, okay? I have a game Tuesday night. I wish you could be there, but probably not a good idea,” he said as he paused in the doorway.
“I’ll be okay,” I said. Then before I could chicken out, I added, “But you can call.”
A bright grin lit his face. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll call.”
Then when I thought he was going to leave, he rushed toward me. Before I knew what he was doing, he raised my chin with the side of his forefinger and his thumb. He brushed a gossamer light kiss to the corner of my mouth, and my eyes fell closed.
When I opened them, he was gone.
Yet his presence lingered.
“Heaven Nor Hell”—Volbeat
After the game, I made a decision so out of character that I stunned myself. I wanted to ask Bleu to be my girlfriend. Shit, that sounded juvenile. My woman? Too caveman. My girl? Too sappy.
Fuck.
Though I’d told the guys I would, I decided not to join them at our hangout, The