Page 81 of Close Knit

“About that night…” I hesitate.Be confident, Daphne!I’ve kissed him once. I can do it again. “When you said you hadn’t stopped thinking about it, what did you mean?”

Instead ofSoccer for Dummies, I should’ve grabbedFlirting with Gorgeous Men for the Clueless.

That familiar crease above his nose reappears. “It felt easy being with you.”

“In what way?”

“I’ve never been with someone who—” His focus zeros in on me. “Complimented me so much. It was a huge turn-on. I loved how vocal you were about what you liked. You were sexy.”

Cute, adorable, sweet—those are my usual labels. Sexy? Only with Cameron. My insides melt.

“Oh, good,” I croak. “You used your mouth well too.”Did I just say that?“I mean, your words were nice.” My senses spin.

“Have you been thinking about it?” he asks.

Pfft, have I thought about it? Only in my bed, in the shower, anytime I’m in his car. When he looks at me or flirts. Or when he laughs, like he’s still getting used to the idea of joy.

“Sometimes,” I say. Our bodies sway closer, like magnets with a mind of their own. “Never have I ever…fantasized about a friend of mine in a very unfriendly way.”

Cameron hesitates, eyes darting to the gummy bowl. Slowly, deliberately, he picks one up and pops it into his mouth. My heart somersaults. I reach for a carrot and take a bite.

“Never have I ever wanted to ditch my no-soccer-players rule,” he says, his tone dead serious.

“Don’t you know by now, Goose? In our world, it’s called football.”

I reach for the coffee table, but Cameron’s hand intercepts mine. He grips my jaw, bringing his mouth close, hovering over the spot he kissed on his birthday but not making contact.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” His lips brush against mine, tentative and teasing. A jolt of heat shoots through me.

More. I need more. My eyelashes flutter closed, and it’s like Cameron really can read my mind because he kisses me.

The world stops.

It’s slow at first, almost as if we’re both afraid to break the spell. But then he’s climbing over me, his warm, solid body pressing into mine as his hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. It’s like a dam has burst, and all the pent-up desire and tension between us floods out, drowning us both.

I gasp against his mouth, and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue past my lips, exploring, tasting. I melt into him, my hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. My absolute favorite. He groans, a deep, primal sound that sends heat pooling low in my belly.

His breath is hot against my lips. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful.”

“And you,” I breathe. “You make me feel so alive.”

Our kisses become urgent and desperate, like we can’t get enough of each other. His hands slide under my shirt, brushing my skin, and I shiver. I tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head, and he does the same to mine.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” His voice is raw with emotion. “Every time I’m around you, I lose my goddamn mind.”

“Cameron.”

“Your sweaters and your punny shirts make me fucking crazy,” he says as he peppers hot kisses along my neck and collarbone, down to the swell of my breasts. “I’ve thought about you in ways I can’t even begin to explain. Every laugh, every sigh, every little sound you make—it’s been living rent-free in my mind since that first night. I’ve thought about you in ways that would make you blush.” He nibbles on my earlobe and licks down my throat. I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. “I’ve dreamed about you, Daphne. About us. About what it would be like to finally have you again.”

He says the words I’ve kept locked up for months. His athletic body is a marvel under my hands—every muscle is taut and defined. Around him, I’m safe, beautiful, and sexy.

“Tell me. Tell me everything,” I plead.

The undeniable stiffness in his jeans grows. “Late at night, when it’s just me and the sound of you through the wall, I let my mind wander. I’ve pictured you in my arms, imagined your skin against mine, and tasted your lips. I think about youin the shower, imagine you there with me, your purple waves drenched. I watch your livestreams just to hear your voice. I’ve even—” He pauses, his voice husky. “I’ve even touched myself thinking about you.”

No more waiting. I need him. I unzip his jeans. “You have no idea what you do to me,” I groan while he devours my neck again. “I’ve thought about you too, Cameron. Every day, every night. I’ve wanted to kiss you since your birthday. Maybe even before that.”

His hands are everywhere, but it’s not enough. I need more. I arch against him.

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