Page 74 of The Bachelor

That’s what this is about?

His best friend?

Who Camden has been all for setting me up with?

“I find him interesting, and he’s a nice guy,” I said, “but, no, I’m not interested in him in that way—or any way for that matter.”

He released my fingers, and they went to my neck, tilting my face up to him. “You’re saying you don’t want to go out with him?”

I thought I’d answered that question, but he obviously needed more reassurance. “No, Camden, I don’t want to go out with him. The reason I’ve been talking to him is to appease your sister, who’s relentlessly tried to keep us connected all night.”

And to make you jealous.

Something I would never admit.

“I needed to be sure before I did this.” His hand moved up my face, stopping at my cheek, his fingers spreading, his thumb stretching to my lips, where he traced the top one, rounding the corner before moving to the bottom one.

“Do what?” I whispered.

There was plenty of wine flowing through me by this point. Not to mention, I was almost completely in the dark, unable to attempt to read his eyes or know the next move he was going to make. I could mostly only rely on touch, and his was sending off so many signals.

Signals that something was about to happen.

And that something was going to change everything.

As he got closer, his cologne was more prominent, as was the liquor on his breath. His hand gripped me harder, his thumb leaving my mouth, his other fingers diving into my hair, holding my strands in his palm.

“This.”

One word.

And the timing of it only allowed me to take a short breath before his lips were on mine.

Camden had kissed me the night we agreed to the proposition.

That’d felt more like a test. A way to determine if we had any chemistry or if I could even come close to satisfying him.

This was different.

This was a need.

A want.

With the way his lips surrounded me, how his tongue circled mine, he wasn’t just taking. He was breathing me in. Inhaling me. Claiming me, like this was far more than a lesson.

And my body immediately responded.

My back arched off the brick as my arms shot up, hugging his neck, pulling our bodies together, and I felt the hardness of his erection and the muscles in his chest and the strength in his hands as he held me.

Within a few seconds, his fingers slid up to the top of my head, and then his arms extended out straight, his palms pressing against the wall above me.

I was in a cage.

Full of Camden.

And there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

But I was overflowing with questions, and the moment he pulled away, I wanted to ask them.

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