Page 68 of Beautifully Wounded

“My name is Cameron. Cameron Musgrove.”

My brows hitch. “Your real name is Cameron?”

When he nods, my shoulders relax.

“Do you have a middle name?” I dare to ask, and his lips thin like he is struggling with my question.

“If I tell you,” he points a stern finger at me, “you’d better not fucking laugh.”

Still with a wide smile, I sign a cross over my heart, waiting for him to divulge the name that he’s clearly embarrassed about.

“My full name is Cameron Eugene Musgrove.”

My smile drops.

My lips snap shut.

I hold my breath.

Oh, my god.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

“Don’t fucking do it.” He hisses, which breaks my dam.

Throwing my head back, my giggles are loud, happy tears forming in my eyes for once as he broods before me, throwing up his hands.

“Fine. Laugh all you want,” he snaps before muttering quietly. “I bet Lexi knew this would happen.”

“Wait, what?” I snicker, trying to calm myself down. “You spoke to Lexi again?”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest, his legs wide as he watches me, not looking very impressed.

“When? What did she say?”

“It was the other night after you spoke to her and…” He trails off, his expression morphing to pity before he waves a hand between us. “Anyway, she thought if I told you my real name, which cannot be fucking repeated to anyone, that you might see me as more human than thug.”

Still smiling, I nod. “She was right. Cameron Eugene definitely makes you more human.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Are you done?”

I shrug. “I guess.”

He sighs again. “I guess you want my phone now that you’ve eaten and washed?” When I nod quickly, he continues. “Will you at least spend the afternoon in the sun with me while you use my phone? The vitamin D will do you good.”

I nod, even as I speak. “I suppose I can do that.” I tease. “Can I use your phone again tonight?”

His smile is gentle and genuine. “Of course. As long as you eat.”

I roll my eyes, and he steps forward, tipping his head towards me. “Mess up my hair.”

“What?” I squeak, leaning back a little, but he chuckles and takes my wrist, guiding my hand to his head.

“Mess up my hair. We gotta make it look like we fucked, Angel.”

My cheeks and between my thighs flare to life simultaneously at his words, and a moment later my fingers are threading through his longish dark strands, which is softer than I imagined.

“Ohhhh yeah.” He groans dramatically, and when I go to pull my hand back, his vice-like grip around my wrist stops me as he leans in more. “Don’t stop.”

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