Page 97 of Not That Into You

The bookshelves themselves are a beautiful, natural wood that matches the kitchen cabinets. They extend up to the ceiling, though the shelves become much taller closer to the top, allowing space for artwork rather than books. Pictures, small sculptures, and pottery are interspersed with a mix of books, which, judging by the few titles I see, are a mix of fiction and nonfiction.

I pick up one of the picture frames, smiling at the photo of Cameron and Hayley standing next to each other, grinning at the camera. They’re framed by trees and mountains with a hint of a lake in the background, and given their nice clothes, it was from some sort of social event.

The sound of heavy footsteps draws closer until I feel Cameron standing next to me. I put the photo back in its place. “That’s a great shot of you and Hayley.”

“Yeah. It’s one of my favorites.”

“When was it taken?”

“Two years ago?” He pauses. “Yeah, two years ago. It was at a mutual friend’s wedding in Italy.”

I laugh softly.

“What?”

I shake my head, still gazing at the photo. “Nothing. Just a reminder we come from two very different worlds.”

“Hm. Not that different.”

I turn to look at him fully. He’s changed into jeans and a sage green T-shirt that’s fitted across his chest, and I can’t help but notice he looks just as sexy as he did in a suit.

Slowly breathing in, I resist the urge to touch him. “I went to a wedding last year that was held in a nondescript hotel ballroom in Woburn, Massachusetts.” I raise my brows. “That’s a far cry from an estate in Italy.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I don’t know. Both weddings had vows, dancing, and cake. Right?”

“Right,” I deadpan. “They were practically identical.”

He chuckles. “Fine. Point taken.”

Taking my hand, he leads me to the couch before sitting down beside me and placing his glass of wine on a side table. “So.”

My heart trips over itself as my stomach clenches. “So.”

“So, last night...”

I nod, my heart pounding. “Last night.”

He’s sitting so close it’s hard to concentrate. Or form a coherent thought.

He smiles. “It was amazing.”

Nodding again, my vision goes hazy as I remember Cameron moving over and in me. His hands, his mouth, his heat. It had been amazing. I’ve never come so hard in my life.

Cameron lets out a strangled sound, and I realize my expression must be telegraphing my thoughts.

Leaning forward, he takes my glass of wine and places it next to his.

“Monica,” he rumbles.

I lick my lips. “Yes?”

Swallowing, his gaze drops to my mouth while my eyes track his Adam’s apple. I remember running my tongue along his neck, kissing the underside of his jaw.

His nostrils flare. “We need to... Uh...”

I drag my gaze back up to his, and our eyes lock. His pupils dilate as my pulse races, awareness crackling between us. I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his hands are cupping my face, my fingers are in his hair, and our mouths are hungrily moving against each other.

Thought and reason have left the building, and after a flurry of movement, I’m straddling his lap, his hands holding me tight against him as our mouths do their best to fuse together.

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