I click it off and down the rest of the lukewarm brew.
My eyes start to close when a knock at the door brings them open. Wincing as I get to my feet, I set the bottle down and get to the entry. Looking through the hole, my heart almost stops beating.
I can’t get it open fast enough.
Her face is streaked with mascara, her beautiful sky-blue eyes watery and puffy. It takes one look, not even a question, before she lunges forward and wraps her arms around my waist.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, pulling her inside and shutting the door. My heart thunders in my chest as I try to see her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She nuzzles against me, her words muffled by my shirt.
Scooping her up, her legs hanging off one of my arms as my other cradles her back, I carry her to the sofa. As I sit, I place her on my lap. “Okay. What’s going on? Why are you crying?”
She takes a deep breath and it shakes as she comes down from the crying high. A quick, easy smile that touches her eyes settles some of my nerves. “I don’t want to talk about it, Dom.”
“I really don’t care if you want to talk about it,” I laugh. “We’re going to talk about it.” Gathering her hair and twisting it together, I place it over one shoulder. “Tell me. Did I do something? I mean, I probably did, but . . .”
“It wasn’t you.”
My features fall. This changes things. “Okay. Who did?”
“Graham,” she whispers.
“Your brother? He made you cry?”
“Yes.”
I move in my seat, finding it impossible to get comfortable. She tries to climb off my lap, but I keep her in place. I need her here. With me. On me.
“I threw Graham out of my house,” she says quietly without looking at me.
“Why?”
Her shoulders rise and fall. “He just . . . he was being irrational.”
I watch her face. There’s a sorrow there that burns me to the core, and suddenly, I get it. “It was because of me.”
“Dom . . .” she pleads.
I’m right. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. Just that he’d talked to Ford and Lincoln and either put it together or someone told him, I don’t know, but he found out you’re Nolan’s nephew.”
“Of course he did,” I mutter, feeling my head begin to pound. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” She tries to cup my face with her hands, but I shake them away. “Dom, listen to me, it’s not your fault.”
“I know it isn’t my fault I’m related to Nolan. Clearly. But I’m sorry I put you in this position.”
Lifting her off my lap, I stand up and head to the center of the room. Pacing a circle, I feel my soul start to splinter.
“I told him to leave,” she says, a tear trickling down her cheek. “I told him I won’t put up with it.”
“But he’s right.”
“About what?”
“About everything he said,” I admit, feeling my spirit begin to wane. “And everything he might not have.”
She gets to her feet, both cheeks now damp. “He’s not right. About any of it,” she sniffles. “You’ve been telling me to stand up for myself and think for myself, Dominic.”
“I have. But, Cam, this isn’t a fight you have to take, babe,” I sigh. “This is your family. Yes, you need boundaries with them. Yes, you need to tell them to mind their own business and you need to step out of their shadow and show them who you really are and what you’re capable of. But, Cam . . .” I shake my head. “That’s your family.”
“I thought you hated my brothers.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think about them. You need them. You can’t let some asshole like me get in between you.”
“I need them?” she asks, her brows lifted. “You know what I need, Dominic?”
My breath still in my chest, my hands nearly shaking at my sides. I wait for her next words, unable to look away.
“I need you,” she whispers.
With those three little words, she takes the few steps between us and wraps her arms around my waist. I hold her tight, squeezing her against me for dear life as I struggle to maintain enough oxygen flow to stay cognizant.
No one has needed me before. Not in the way she just looked at me. Women have needed me for an orgasm or a safety net or something to do on a Friday night. There’s never been a female that’s looked at me, the me under the ink and the game, and said they wanted that.
There aren’t words available to give her because I’m not sure what to say to that. My mouth feels dry, cottony, but there’s a warmth flooding me that I’d prefer stick around a while.
Cam melts into my chest, her fingers pressing against my back as she clings on as if she’s afraid I’ll reject her. That’s my fault too.
“I won’t come between you and your brothers,” I say, stroking the back of her head. “You can’t let a guy like me ruin that.”
“A guy like you?” She pulls back so I can see her face. “I just defended you to the smartest man I know—no offense.”
“None taken, I don’t think. Well, maybe not.”
She grins. “You’re definitely the hottest.”
“That makes me feel a little better.”
“And the sexiest.”
“That also helps,” I smile.
“And the sweetest.”
“That’s a lie,” I laugh, watching her gorgeous smile reflect back at me.
She lifts a hand and touches my cheek. “You’re not going to come between me and my brothers. They might be mad and throw a fit, but if they want to act like children, that’s their wives’ problem. Not mine.”
“The last thing I want to do is cause you any problems. I look at you and think all I’ll ever be able to do is fuck you up, and I’d kill myself before I let that happen.”
“I know,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “That’s why I trust you.”
“Tell me one thing,” I say. “Did Graham hurt you?”
“Just my feelings. And not even really those. But I might’ve hurt his,” she says, pondering my question. “I wonder how he’ll feel about that in the morning?”
Chuckling, I scoop her up as she yelps and head down the hallway. “If you want me to do a little meet-and-greet with Graham, now’s the time to tell me,” I say, kicking the door to my bedroom open. “You have about twenty seconds and then I’m going to make sure neither of us thinks about him again for a very, very long time.”
Her arms around my neck, she beams. “Who are you talking about?”
Tossing her on the bed, I’m on top of her before she can react.
Camilla
I tip my face up to meet his stare. The teasing smirk drifts away, and in its place, a soft, sweet gaze moves in. Where his playfulness sends an ache through my core, this side of him melts it.
My hands rest on the back of his neck, the heat of his skin radiating through my palms. I work my fingers into the ends of his hair and then up higher, playing with the messy strands that have, undoubtedly, had his own hands in them not too long ago.