Page 48 of SALT

I grip the side of my desk and drop my gaze. "Yeah, Cameron, he's a big part of it. He was my best friend, and I doubt he'd be okay with me defiling his daughter if he were still here."

"I disagree. He'd want to see the two people he loved happy."

"What if I can't make you happy?"

"What if you're my soulmate?" she takes a step toward me.

"You think I'm your soulmate?" I hold my breath as my stupid heart beats out of rhythm, waiting for her response.

Closing the space between us, her wedge nudges my boot before she says, "You tell me. How's walking away been going for you?"

My arm is pulling her against my front before my mind can argue. She stumbles on her wedges and braces herself on my chest, her hands instantly burning scars onto my soul. Her touch feels too good, and when her big blue eyes land on mine, I'm a goner. Leaning my forehead to hers, I warn, "We can't come back from this, Cameron. I can't erase something like this."

Her tongue darts out, moistening her lips. "Promise?" My free hand slides up the side of her neck before twisting into her auburn locks as my lips skim over the top of hers, and it's already the best kiss I've ever had. "Please," she pleads as her hand twists in my shirt, dissolving my willpower.

My mouth crashes to hers, and it feels like I am breathing for the first time. All the weight that's been sitting on my chest for years is lifted as her soft lips mold against mine. Everything, the anxiety, the fear, the fog, it's all gone. Replaced with only her. My tongue dips inside her sweet mouth, and we both let out soul-deep moans of rapture. I've never shared a kiss like this in my forty-six years, one where the person I'm kissing wants me just as much. Don't get me wrong, I've shared lust, but this is more than that. Lust seeks physical pleasure, and while I want that too, I want what's wrapped in this moment more. I want the emotional well-being and the person tied to the other end of it. I want the long-lasting fulfillment that only comes from a more profound place.

Her hands slide up my chest and wrap around the base of my neck, setting off a tingling sensation that racks my body with awareness. She owns me. Every piece. The hand I had rested on her hip slowly reaches around to finally cop a feel of her perfect ass just as my cell phone rings. Fuck.

I pull back, and she moans in protest. "Don't answer it… Stay with me."

"That's Connor's ringtone," I say as I brush my thumb across her cheek, my eyes full of apology.

Her brows furrow as she steps back and drops her gaze to the floor. Damn it.

"One second," I say as I answer the phone. Connor rarely calls, so if he's calling, it must be important, but so is Cameron. "Cam?—"

"It's fine, Everett. I didn't come up here to stay anyway." Tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear, she heads toward the door, and I fucking hate it. Leaving is the last thing I want. Then, when she reaches the door, she says, "I was only stopping by to let you know I won't be home tonight. You have time."

I have time. What the hell does that mean? What does she mean she won't be home tonight?

"Cameron, wait." Her big blue eyes pierce mine before they drop to the phone in my hand, reminding me of why she's walking away to begin with. My hand tightens around the phone, and my heart wholly divides. She gives me a soft smile, and then she disappears around the corner.

She's not making me choose. I know she would never do that. So why does it feel like I have to?

Chapter 18

Cameron

"Hey, have you seen my phone?" I ask Stormy as I look around my camper.

"No. Maybe you left it in your car."

I lift the throw pillows on the couch for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes before putting my hands on my hips, thoroughly peeved. Out of all the days to lose my phone, the day I kiss Everett Callahan for the first time would officially be the worst. "I already checked there."

"Where's the last place you remember having it?"

I throw myself back on the couch and trill my lips as I stare at the ceiling. That's when I remember Mackenzie sent a text while I was waiting for Stormy to pack a bag. "Shit. I left it in your room."

She holds her phone up. "We have mine if there's an emergency, or we could always go back."

"I don't want to leave now that we are here. It's an hour back… unless you've changed your mind about staying here, and that was your subtle hint."

"Nope, this kind of shit is right up my alley. I told you, I bought a tiny house. I'm jealous of this whole setup. I wish I had somewhere like this to park my place." She tosses a bag of marshmallows at me. "Ready to start up that fire?"

Once we got our cocktails poured, we came outside and found a spot next to the lake to start a fire. It's so peaceful out here, but I'll admit having someone here with me is better than sitting on top of my car in the dark. I only wish I hadn't left my phone. Honestly, it's probably better than what I did. There is something to be said about making a man miss you, not letting him have everything all at once. I'd like to say it's what I've intentionally been doing with Everett, but that wouldn't be the whole truth. The old me, the one he knew before he left, was ballsy. She was no holds barred, but dare I say, I've grown up. I hate to use that term because it suggests that the girl I was then was immature, not fully grown and capable of making life choices, such as who she wants to be with, and I don't see it that way. The way I see it, the time we spent apart these past few months was a test of sorts. It gave us both time to deal with what we were feeling. He thought I wanted Parker, and I know part of him still believes Parker would be better for me. I'm confident that's why he left, so he wasn't a factor. Everett would accept misery if it meant I was happy; what he doesn't understand is that I'd do the same. If I thought I couldn't be what he needed, I'd walk. That's why I've been careful since he came home. I'm all in. I've been all in for as long as I can remember, but seeing how feeling anything for me pains him every time we push a boundary kills me. A little space is good, or at least I hope it is. Right now, one night feels like one hundred years.

"So, if you had property, you'd plant roots? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a tiny house?" I ask, taking a bigger drink of rum and coke. I made it stiff, hoping to relax my anxious mind.

---