“Hey,” he said, reaching out and using a finger to turn her face back to his when she’d looked away. “Let yourself off the hook. What you’re doing, it’s for both of you. Scarlett, you deserve your dreams.”
For a moment she closed her eyes, her lips turning upward in a sad smile. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for that.”
He paused, recalling something he hadn’t remembered until right that moment. “She told me about you,” he said.
“She?”
“Kandace. She told me about a friend of hers. I think it was you. It had to be you.”
Scarlett’s smile was soft but mildly puzzled. “She did?”
“Yeah. Kandace wanted us to meet. She said she’d arrange it if she could.”
Her eyes softened and she let out a small gust of breath. “I almost don’t want to believe she did because that would mean—"
“I know,” he said gently.
She looked up at him with so much concern, but also trust. “Was it hard for her, Cam? If the girls were treated badly, Kandi would have tried to do something. Oh God. Were they . . . did they—”
“She did do something. She cared. She was the first one who ever did. She took risks.”
“You liked her.” She smiled softly.
“She was the first person, other than Mason and Georgia who saw me. Looked out for me. So, yeah. I liked her.”
“I’m glad, Cam. I’m glad she found you.” Me too. Because that’s what she did. She found me.
He started to withdraw his finger where it still rested on her chin, but instead, brought his hand closer, cupping her cheek. He felt nervous suddenly. Apprehensive, yet also strangely calm. He stared in her gray-blue eyes. Peace. He’d found it there. The old fears fell away, the ones that had never been real yet had lingered all the same. Until now. Until her. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” he said softly. “But the way I feel about you, the things you do to me, Scarlett . . . nothing about that is a lie.”
Her eyes widened, searching his and then she leaned closer into his touch. Her skin felt like warm satin. He stepped forward, so drawn to her, it was as though his body acted before he’d even decided to move. He had been, he realized, from the very first moment he looked at her. Scarlett stepped forward too, tilting her face upward and gazing at him.
Camden’s heartbeat quickened, that electrifying sense Scarlett’s closeness always elicited growing stronger just beneath his skin. It buzzed through his veins, causing every molecule to quicken inside him. It felt good. God, it felt good. He lowered his mouth, brushing it softly against hers. “Do you want this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I want this. I want you.”
His heart sped, body hardening. He let out a pent-up breath of need. “You’re sure?”
She let out a gentle laugh, but it quickly faded. She brought her hand to his forehead, moving a lock of hair aside. “Yes, I’m very sure,” she said tenderly, obviously understanding why her consent was so vital to him. He’d seen the opposite, portrayed as natural when it was anything but. The trauma still lived within him.
She went up on her tiptoes, kissing his forehead, her lips lingering there. “Take me to bed, Camden.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Camden held her face tenderly in his hands as he came over her, pressing his naked skin to hers. Scarlett stared up at him, mouth parted, eyes wide and searching, so beautiful she stole his breath from his body. He groaned, bringing his mouth to hers, the heat of his hardness pressing against the silken skin of her stomach. He kissed her, slowly, tenderly, their tongues dueling sweetly as her thighs came around his hips. He felt his self-control dwindling and struggled to secure his grasp. She made him feel like liquid inside.
As if she sensed his effort, she broke from his mouth, running a thumb over his bottom lip as she gazed up into his eyes. “Let go,” she said, her voice breathy. “I want you to let go, Camden. Please.”
His heart swelled. This woman. This woman seemed to know him, to read his fear and his struggle. To understand that, for him, sex could hold pitfalls, ambivalence, and doubt. His introduction had been anything but natural. He wanted to find out who he was, to explore his desires, to feel safe enough to do so, known, and that had never been a possibility before now because he’d never shared his secrets with a woman. Instead, he’d struggled along, having a few emotionally unsatisfying experiences before he’d moved back to Farrow, always half there, as though he watched his body from the outside, observing, but never truly participating.
Camden didn’t feel that way now.
He felt intensely present, almost overwhelmingly so. This slender, delicate woman made him weak in the knees and the thought made him want to smile.
Scarlett opened her eyes wide and looked at him, her expression filled with trust. It honored him, that trust. It helped him relax, helped him give in to the lust rising inside him like a tidal wave.
Camden leaned up, looking down where his hand rested on her naked thigh. “A heart,” he said, running his thumb over her birthmark. “It looks like a heart.”
She laughed softly and he raised his head, his lips meeting hers.
He kissed her and it wasn’t tentative, it was wild and warm and wet. Just like those moments spent with her at the stream, everything about it was sweet and right. Her thighs gripped him tightly, bringing their cores closer and the wave rose higher. There was nothing but her, the taste of her on his tongue, the soft scent of her skin. Wildflowers and rain. And God, he wanted to make this good for her too. He wanted this to mean as much to Scarlett as it did to him.
After all, she’d been mistreated as well. She’d been used and lied to. And then abandoned. She deserved to feel cherished.
He’d been taught what was holy and what was not, the idea of unmerciful divinity drummed into him like a gong ringing constantly in his head. Loud. Brutal. But none of those teachings had ever felt true, not in his gut, not in his soul. Because Camden had sat in silence in the shaded woods, listening to the peaceful trickle of water. He’d seen the miraculous unfolding of a brand-new day. He’d held innocent life in his hands and watched as it first floundered, then healed, finally flying away in a rapturous flapping of wings, rising into the open sky. He knew what was holy because his heart had told him, and he had listened to its soft singing.
He felt that holiness now, as this beautiful woman trustingly and wholeheartedly offered him her body—and her heart.
He brought his hand to her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb until she moaned and arched and breathed his name, his own breath coming ragged and fast. He pulled his mouth from hers, closing his lips around one stiff peak and tugging gently. He was rewarded with a soft cry that made him swell and ache and press against her, seeking relief.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”
She writhed beneath him, pressing upward, inviting. Heat burned in his belly, his loins, her hand moving between their bodies, wrapping around his hardness so that he moaned, gasping out a strangled sound of pleasure.
She stroked him slowly, almost languidly, raising her head so she could see her hand on his flesh. He followed suit, watching as she pleasured him, and it was far too much and not nearly enough. “Scarlett,” he groaned, a tortured laugh moving up his throat as he placed his hand over hers and removed her grasp. “Later,” he gritted.