Reclaim - Aly Martinez Page 0,98
Not because I’m here. Not because it’s convenient. Not because you need something or I need something. I’m talking someone who cannot physically stay away for one day, much less five fucking years.”
I took a giant step toward him, challenge mounting in my veins. “You think I didn’t want to be with you? You think I didn’t die inside every time I saw a picture of you with some woman on Instagram?”
He let out a humorless laugh and planted his hands on his hips. “What women, Nora? I'm one rung on the ladder away from being a monk.”
“Oh, please. I see the pictures you’re tagged in… Pencil Skirt Barbie, Ski Slope Sally, and my personal favorite: Tattoo Tammy. Come on, Cam. Pick a type!”
“I would if I was dating any of them. But considering Paula is my cousin on my dad’s side, and the girl from the ski slope is married to my friend from college, and Tammy is in a committed relationship with my other friend—Angela—I think it would be in seriously bad form to date any of them. But if you would like to talk about Instagram, I am here for it. I really enjoyed watching your relationship with Forehead Freddy from the IG bench.”
My head snapped back. “Who?”
“The guy with the big forehead who always puts his arms around you and I can never see his fucking hand so I have no idea where he’s grabbing you and it literally devoured me every time you posted a picture of the two of you.”
“You mean Charles?”
He threw his arms out to the sides, slapping them against his thighs. “I don’t know!”
“Oh, good Lord, Cam. Charles is a very, very married art teacher at my school. He helps with the bag lunch program, likes to take pictures, and brings me succulent clippings once a month. That is the extent of our relationship.”
He shut his mouth and cut his gaze off to the side. “Well…that is…good to know.”
An unlikely smile curled my lips. “You stalk my Instagram?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me shit. It’s part of being on the hook.”
We stood there in silence for a long minute.
Camden caught his breath, fascinated with his shoes.
I felt like a heel, but I was utterly enthralled by how he was one rung on the ladder away from being a monk.
“Why haven’t you ever been with anyone else?”
His head popped up, his gaze incredulous. “Because I want you! Why is this such a difficult concept?” His long legs swallowed the distance between us. Grabbing my hand, he pressed it into his chest, his heart pounding beneath it. “Five years, five hundred years—it doesn’t matter. I want you, Nora. In my life. In my bed. At my side. Any and every way I can have you. I only want you. I don’t care if it’s messy or complicated. I don’t care if you are still working through the shit-hand life dealt you. I don’t care how it comes or what it looks like. I only want you.” He paused to take a breath, but I’d heard enough.
I wanted all those things too. No, I wasn’t perfect—and messy and complicated were literally the definition of my life.
But I loved him.
My entire life, I had loved Freaking Camden Cole. That had never changed.
I didn’t just press my lips to his; my mouth collided with his like a hurricane hitting the coast. He groaned into my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine, desperate and commanding. I pressed up onto my toes and circled my arms around his neck, but I couldn’t get close enough and I ended up crawling up his strong body.
His hands immediately went to my ass. He ground his cock into me through the confines of his jeans.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
“Bed. Room,” I panted between kisses.
With heavy steps that were somehow frenzied yet purposeful, he carried me down the hall, straight to my bed. As if taking me to bed were old hat and not only the second time he'd done it, he acted with intention and grace. How was it even possible that, with such limited experience, our bodies recognized the desire they had for one another without much thought or concentration at all?
“Every day. Every night. This need for you never stops,” he rumbled, moving his attention to my neck, sucking and licking until chills exploded across my skin. “You’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours,” I whispered. “Only yours.”
Leaning to one side, his wandering hand lifted my shirt, the one I’d stolen from