Page 20 of Best Part of Me

Maverick

Camille is breaking all my fucking rules. I’ve never let a woman sleep over before.

The sun is barely up, and while Cammie sleeps in my bed, I fix two cups of coffee and contemplate just how in the hell we’re going to keep this a secret from Jones. Since we have an unspoken agreement that last night was a one-time thing, maybe it won’t be as difficult as I think.

Only a one-time thing.

My gut tightens at that thought, and disappointment aches in my chest.

All I’ve ever wanted is for Cammie to be happy. How that dirtbag, Chris, got to have three years with her is completely unfair. The selfish bastard. While I, the guy who knows her so well, including how she takes her coffee, only gets one night. I shake my head as I carry the two mugs into the bedroom.

Sunlight streams in through the slits of the blinds, cascading over Cammie in a bright glow. Her hair fans across the pillow, and her eyes sleepily flutter open and closed. One perfect and luscious butt cheek peeks out from beneath the sheet. My dick stands at attention.

“Hey,” she says groggily, a small smile forming on her lips.

A weird ache of emotion hammers in my chest. As a craving for her—morning sex is not something I’ve experienced very often due to the no-sleeping-over rule—and a desire to experience this with her overwhelms me. Again and again.

“Coffee?” I hold the mug out and admire her as she sits up and reaches for it, her breasts on display for a glorious moment before she realizes.

Fuuuuuuck.

“Oops. Sorry... forgot.” She yanks the sheet up and tucks it around herself, chewing her lower lip.

“You don’t have to apologize on my account.”

I chuckle when she responds with a smile, and her cheeks blush. I study her as she takes the first sip of her coffee and revel in her expected response. Her eyes roll back, closing in pleasure, just like they always do when she takes that first drink of hot coffee. And this is another reminder of how well I know her. Only after last night, I’ve now witnessed her eyes rolling back because of the pleasure from my fingers.

Shit. Now I’m hard again.

“Thank you,” she finally says.

I nod and take a drink of my coffee, sitting on the edge of the chair in the corner of my bedroom, trying to keep my distance from her. I don’t trust myself.

“And thanks again for last night.” Her head whips up, her eyes locking on mine. “Err... you know, for letting me stay,” she’s quick to elaborate.

My lips curve into a smile. I can’t help it. She’s cute like this. Nervous and maybe slightly embarrassed. Though she shouldn’t be. Last night, she opened up to me in a way she never has. She trusted me. I don’t take that lightly.

“You’re welcome.”

She peeks at me over the brim of her mug, her lengthy lashes fluttering. “So, what usually happens now?”

I furrow my brows. “What do you mean?”

“You know?”

She’s insinuating something with widened eyes, but I’m not following. I wait for her to elaborate.

“After a woman spends the night? You bring her a delicious cup of coffee so she’s awake enough to realize it’s time she gathers her shit and dips?”

My head battles between telling her the truth and keeping up my reputation. Cammie and Rosie nicknamed me Ladies’-Man-Mav years ago because I’ve always been somewhat of a player. The nickname and the teasing only bothered me at first. Then I began wearing it as a badge of honor.

Except now, the idea of her attaching that nickname to me after what we experienced last night has me feeling shitty. Cammie is different. She’s not another one-night stand. She means more to me than any other woman. And her opinion of me matters.

“Something like that,” I say, surprising her, along with myself, with my response. I don’t want her to go.

Her facial expression shifts, her eyes drop and her lips pucker together. She sets her mug on the nightstand. I run a hand through my hair.

“Guess that’s my cue to leave.”

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