Page 2 of Unstoppable Love

“I’m leaving. This isn’t smart. Isaiah will?—”

She lifted her head, pressed her lips against mine, and every last shred of common sense and decency and gentlemanly behavior my parents instilled in us to ensure we were all of that and more fled.

I’d wanted Ava Decker since I first started knowing what made girls different from boys. We’d grown up together and chased each other around farm fields and my parents’ cattle ranch. We’d gone mudding in our four-wheelers and raced horses.

But the first time I saw fourteen-year-old Ava Decker in a skimpy little string bikini, diving into the creek on our land off the rope swing?

I was a goner. Three years I’d wanted her. Three years where I ached to be right where I was.

Three years where I used my hand to get off to those dreams, where I taught myself control and how much better it was the longer it took me to finish. Three years where I kissed and did other things to other girls because I couldn’t have Ava, where I figured out how to make it good for the girls, too. Doing all of that, wishing they were Ava.

And now she was here, kissing me, beneath me in my bed. Her hips bucked up, and hell. She rubbed herself right against where I was hard beneath my underwear, the only thing I had on, and then her hands were at my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders, tugging me to her.

“Ava,” I groaned into her mouth. She tasted like beer and summertime and innocence, and shit.

I pulled back. Innocent, that was what she was. But according to that kiss, she was also a natural. I hadn’t ever seen her with a boy. Not in her own grade. Isaiah would have told me too. And hell, with the amount of time I spent watching her while acting like I wasn’t, I would have noticed too.

Which meant she was innocent in all the ways. Which meant I shouldn’t have been doing this. I couldn’t take what she was offering when I was leaving. I’d probably never live in New Haven again, and she never wanted to be anywhere but there, on her parents’ small farm. She wanted a husband and babies and wanted to stay home with those babies like her mom had done.

She was so perfect, she deserved everything she wanted.

Ava Decker deserved a guy who’d stay. Who’d be the man she needed and treat her like the princess she was.

I was leaving. I had years of football and college and hopefully the pros ahead of me.

I couldn’t be the man she needed.

“Please,” she whispered. Her fingernails—hot pink like my mom’s favorite roses because, much like everything else about Ava, I noticed those earlier too—dug into my shoulders as I gathered my wits and started to do the right thing, even when all I wanted to do was the wrong thing.

Ma drilled into us and did it often. We wouldn’t be the kind of men who used women. We wouldn’t be the kind of men who took advantage. And we wouldn’t be the kind of men who made empty promises.

So yeah, I started to do the right thing. I swear I did.

But then Ava pressed her hands between us and slid her hand down until I felt those long, slim fingers right on my hard dick.

“Please, Cameron. I want it to be you. I want you to teach me. I know you’re leaving. I know I’ll probably never see you again. Please, Cam…”

Oh hell. She was begging. So cute. Eyes so full of need, fingers feeling so good.

I shook my head, but I was failing at doing the right thing. I was failing at it all.

“Please, Cam. Show me.”

Her lips brushed against mine again. Her hand squeezed hard. Almost too hard. But the pain was good.

This was wrong.

But it’d never felt so right.

Until hours later, when she was sleeping in my bed, dressed in my T-shirt, and there was a knock at my door.

And I might not have regretted what we’d done, what I taught her, and what she’d begged for—repeatedly and then thoroughly enjoyed—but I’d definitely regret it if anyone walked in on us.

I threw on my underwear and opened my door a crack.

And fuck me. Fucking fuck me.

It was Isaiah. Drunk. Glassy-eyed, leaning against the wall outside my door. “Got anyone in there for me?”

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