Damn. He went hard.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I can’t sleep. I don’t want to be alone.”
He couldn’t say no to her. He was so fucked.
He opened his arms, and she made a beeline straight for him. He pulled her onto his lap, then tipped them sideways onto the couch. At the same time, he grabbed the throw blanket his mom had bought him—pale green and super soft—off the back of the couch and pulled it over them.
Saskia settled her slim body against him, then pressed her face into his neck. She let out a little sigh, and he felt some of the tension leave her.
Cam kept an arm locked around her, and stared at the ceiling.
He had to find a way to keep her safe from him. He couldn’t give her what she needed. He lay there, holding her until she fell asleep.
Chapter Six
Saskia woke up on the couch, encased in strong, muscular arms. Her back was pressed to Cam’s body, his morning erection against her butt.
She felt safe and warm.
She squeezed her eyes closed. How was it possible to move so quickly from experiencing one of the worst times of her life, to now, one of the best ones?
She savored the feel of him, the warmth of him, and the sound of his steady, even breathing.
When she felt him stir, she stayed still and relaxed. His hand flexed on her hip, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.” He shifted to sit upright. “Sorry, I didn’t plan for us to sleep on the couch.”
“It’s fine.” She sat up as well. “It’s the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
A groove appeared on his brow. “Me too.” He rose, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “Ah, I’ll just use the bathroom, then make us some breakfast. How are you feeling today?”
She smiled. “You know, I feel much steadier. A good night’s sleep is excellent medicine.”
He nodded, then strode out.
The way those jeans hugged his ass…
She bit her lip. A good night’s sleep in Camden Morgan’s arms was the perfect medicine for her.
She wandered over to the fancy sound system and fiddled with the controls. Music poured out of the speakers.
Instantly, she smiled. She rocked her hips, her worries falling away. The music moved through her, and she lifted her arms above her head.
She spun, lifted her leg, then danced. For those precious moments, nothing existed but pure joy.
She twirled, and saw Cam watching her from the doorway.
“Oh.” She stumbled to a stop and pressed a hand to her chest. “Sorry. The music started and I—” She waved a hand.
“Lost yourself?”
She nodded. He was watching her like a hawk. His gaze dropped to her bare legs before it jerked back up.
The heat she saw in his eyes turned her legs to cooked spaghetti. Her fingers curled, her nails biting into her palms. He wanted her. She’d sensed it from the moment they’d met, but sometimes she wondered if he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Saskia didn’t believe in love at first sight. Love—true love—took time.
But she believed in potential at first sight.
And the more she learned about this tough, scarred man, the more she’d liked. He wasn’t selfish, worried about wearing the latest fashions, or getting his picture taken at the hottest new club.
He was real, solid, true. He was strength and integrity.
He stepped around her. “I’ll start breakfast. Scrambled eggs all right?”
She watched him, that controlled movement of his powerful body. He seemed to have no trouble ignoring the attraction. She sighed. Maybe what she felt was stronger.
“Saskia?”
She looked up. He was watching her from the kitchen island.
She pinned on a bright smile. “I love scrambled eggs.” She headed his way. “What can I do to help?”
“You can be in charge of the toast.”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’m not much of a chef. I eat very light and healthy when I’m dancing. Yogurt is my staple.”
“Are you cold?” His gaze was on her legs again. “I can probably find a robe.”
She frowned. “No, I’m not cold. And you don’t strike me as a robe-owning kind of man.”
His lips quirked. “I have one. A gift from my mother. I have a whole cupboard full of things she’s given me that I’ve never used.”
“I’m fine.” There was something about a man who didn’t want to upset his mother and kept gifts he wasn’t interested in.
Saskia set to work getting the bread from the bread box and putting some in the toaster. Cam started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
“I’ll need to call my director today,” she said. “And buy some new clothes.”
“Don’t overdo it. Take your time to recover.”
She bit her lip. The terrifying memories tried to crowd her head, but she pushed them away. “I’ll call Addie, too. See how she’s doing. God, those poor women.”
“They’re safe now.”
She nodded. “Thanks to you. You’re my hero. If you hadn’t realized something was wrong…”
The music changed to a fast pop song and she danced across to the fridge. When she turned with the juice, Cam was staring at her.
Everything else disappeared, narrowing to just the two of them.
“I’m not a hero,” he said.
“You are to me. I know you saw some terrible things—” she hesitated, setting the juice down “—and probably did some terrible things. I’m grateful for that. You fought so I never have to face that. You sacrificed so I never have to, and I can never thank you enough.”
Emotion crossed his rugged face. “I don’t want thanks.”
She tossed her head back. “I know, but you’re getting it anyway. And extra thanks for coming after me.” She closed the distance between them and pressed a hand to his T-shirt. “I will only ever see the hero, even if he’s a little battered and dinged.”
He made a sound, a low, muted roar. He dropped the wooden spoon he was holding, and his arms clamped around her waist.
Saskia’s pulse went crazy. Their bodies collided.
He cupped the back of her head, his mouth taking hers.
Oh. God.
He tasted like minty toothpaste and man. She opened her lips and his tongue slid in.
The kiss went wild, needy. Desire—hot and burning—exploded in her belly.
She moaned, sliding her hands across his short hair. Cam made a sound that arrowed right between her legs. If she’d been wearing panties, they’d be drenched.
His arm moved lower, cupping her ass and he lifted her.
Her heart thumped. He lifted her so easily, like she weighed nothing. Her thighs touched cool stone as he set her on the counter, his mouth never leaving hers.
The kiss deepened and she pulled him closer, between her spread legs. There was nothing sweet or nice or lovely about this kiss.
It was hot, sexy, wild, and she needed more.
His hand slid up her thigh. She shivered. She felt the intoxicating scrape of his calluses. His hands were not soft or pampered. His strong fingers brushed the skin of her inner thighs and she gasped.