Page 21 of Best Part of Me

“Please don’t.”

Her beautiful blues lift and meet mine. They’re full of questions, but I won’t beg. And something tells me she knows that.

She gives me a half smile. “I’ll just finish my coffee.”

My relieved exhale is most definitely audible. “Take your time. I still need to finish packing.” I rise to my feet and chug my coffee.

“When do you need to leave?”

“I’d like to be on the road in about an hour. It’s an eight-hour drive, and I’d like to get there before dark.”

She nods before glancing around the room. “Um... any idea where my clothes are?”

“Oh... uh...” I spin around as if I’m looking but my brain is already playing through splices of memories from the night before and her clothes never even made it into the bedroom. “I think they’re in the main room. I’ll go grab them.”

In a few strides, I’m in the living room, collecting my sweatshirt and her lacey thong from off the floor. Her crumpled wedding dress sits in another corner of the room. My gut pinches, a guilty wave rolling through me that Cammie should be waking up this morning as a married woman. Not after an almost one-night stand with her brother’s best friend.

Holding the dress in one hand and my clothing in the other, I debate which is the best option for her to wear home. And where is home for her now? Is it her dad’s, where she moved most of her belongings out of, or Chris’s, where she was already spending over half her time?

I enter my bedroom, and when I find her in the exact spot I left her, in my bed, mug in her hand and the sheet tucked to her front, my heart stalls. She’s breathtaking like this. I’ve thought Cammie was beautiful since we were teenagers, but I’ve never had the opportunity to see her like this. Her hair hangs over her bare shoulders, and my brain has already sent a signal south that she is naked beneath that sheet.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted to put on. My clothes don’t exactly fit you, but something tells me you don’t want to wear your wedding dress home.” I lay the options out on the foot of the bed, my brows raised.

She pushes her lips into a pout, and damn, they’re so tempting I want to kiss them. I want them encircled around my cock. Suddenly I want to bash my own head in for convincing her to go to sleep because we never got that far.

“I guess your clothes. I mean... if you don’t mind?” she says, gathering up my sweatshirt.

I realize it’s the answer I was hoping for as relief unfurls in my chest. “I don’t mind.”

I want her to keep the sweatshirt, sleep in it and think of me each time she wears it. I’m turned on by the mere thought. Mindlessly, I pick up her underwear, the lacey white fabric so small, and wind it around my pointer finger.

When our eyes lock, her cheeks pinken, and I harden even more. Memories of yanking the thong down her thighs, her so fucking slick beneath my fingertips, assault me, and I want her.

Now.

Cammie’s lips curve into a smile like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. I dangle the thong from a single finger in front of her face, and she swipes it from my grip, snickering. This game we’re playing is dangerous. If she gives me even a hint of a green light, I’m pressing the gas and putting this early a.m. hard-on to good use.

“Thanks. I probably won’t make it far without these.”

“I mean, you could stay.” I quirk a brow.

What am I even saying? I’m Ladies’-Man-Mav. I don’t beg women to stay. I don’t need to.

“You have to leave, remember?”

I kneel on the bed and dance my fingers over the sheet tucked against her, eliciting a shiver from her. Slowly, I tug the fabric, freeing her from the sheet and giving me the most spectacular view I’ve seen this early in the morning in quite some time.

“I don’t have to leave.. . yet.” I waggle my brows at her.

“But we agreed. One night.”

“Did we?” I tease a nipple with the pad of my thumb, and her quick inhale of breath is exhilarating. “Besides a fucking fantastic make-out session, nothing really happened last night. So I think we deserve a redo on ourone nighttogether.”

She’s on her knees in less than a second, moving closer to me, crawling to me, and the sight of it is so fucking hot I nearly come unhinged.

When she reaches me, I grip her neck and draw her in close. My core tightens as I hold her against me so she can feel what she’s doing to me. I’m hard as steel now.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispers in a rush of breath against my lips.

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