“I’ll be okay.”
He clapped me on the back. “Do you know what I think you need?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”
Dom guided me over to our corner of the benches. “You need to go find that woman of yours and let her help relieve all the tension you got going on, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Amen to that, brother.” Dylan, our running back, held his hand out and the two of them fist bumped.
“Beats hanging around with you bunch of losers.” I shot back around a smirk. But it was all front.
It had been for a while.
I loved my team. I loved my classes and living in Michigan with Hailee.
But I didn’t love being four-hundred miles from home, from my kid brother and his struggles.
Everyone—Mom, Dad, Jase and Asher, even Hailee—kept telling me it was only eight more months. Eight more months until we could move back to Rixon and be closer to my family. But I couldn’t shake the pit in my stomach, the feeling that this was only the beginning, that Xander knew something the rest of us didn’t.
And that terrified the shit out of me.
“Hailee?” I threw my keys on the sideboard and moved deeper into our loft apartment overlooking the Huron River.
The chilled beats of Röyksopp drifted down the hall and I knew exactly where to find her. Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, I kicked off my sneakers and headed for the mezzanine. Sure enough, Hailee was standing over a canvas with her back to me, paintbrush in hand.
I leaned against the wall for a second, drinking in the sight of her. While I’d found it hard being away from Rixon—from my family—Hailee had flourished at Michigan. She loved every second of her arts degree and her talent had grown substantially. So much so that last spring we’d decided to get a bigger place, somewhere to accommodate her growing collection of paintings and sculptures.
Our new place was perfect. It was an industrial warehouse that had been converted into huge open plan apartments. Ours was lucky enough to have a mezzanine that was perfect for Hailee’s studio, without her feeling locked away in a different part of the apartment.
Her body swayed gently to the music as she brushed long sweeping arcs over the splodges of color already decorating the canvas. Almost four years later, and I still didn’t really understand most of her art. But I loved watching her. Her work attire didn’t hurt the eyes either.
She currently stood in an oversized white shirt that grazed her thighs. Hailee had pulled her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and from the way the shirt was hanging off one shoulder, I knew she’d probably left some buttons open.
Taking a long pull on my beer, I placed it on the sideboard and quietly moved closer. She was too lost in her art to notice me. Or, at least, I was thought she was, until she said, “How long were you watching me?”
“Busted.” I smiled, brushing the stray hairs off her neck and leaning in to press a kiss there.
A shudder rolled through her, and Hailee glanced back at me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Her words wrapped around me like a warm blanket. She knew. Hailee always knew when something was wrong, but I tried my best to make sure she didn’t know just how much I was struggling. I didn’t want to be a burden, not on her. Not when she’d worked so hard to get here. Studying at STAMPS art and design school had always been her dream, and I’d be damned if I did anything to ruin that.
Besides, it was only eight more months.
“Practice was tough.”
Her brows furrowed. “Let me finish up here and we can—”
“Is it an important piece?” I flicked my gaze to the canvas.
“Just something for me.”
Thank fuck.
I pulled the brush from her fingers and threw it down on the tray.
“Cameron, what are you—”
My fingers slid to her neck, my thumbs smoothing over her soft skin. Hailee’s breath caught. “That bad, huh?” Her eyes darkened.
“It was pretty bad.” I’d fumbled the ball, barely caught Dom’s passes, and defense had taken me down seven out of ten plays.
It was a fucking shit show.
“I’m sorry.” She fisted my hoodie, anchoring us together. “What do you need?”
“You,” I breathed against her lips. “I only need you.”
Hailee
I felt Cameron’s torment as he kissed me. I knew he was worried about Xander; it had gotten worse every year that we were away from Rixon. He constantly reassured me he was okay, that he wanted to graduate from Michigan before we decided what to do after, but it was taking its toll.
His tongue slipped past my lips, curling around mine. Cameron kissed the way he played ball, sure and steady and in complete control. And it wasn’t long before our hands were searching for skin, desperate to touch and explore.
“This needs to go,” he said between kisses, fingering the buttons of my work shirt.
“Here, let me.” I broke away, helping him undo the buttons, baring myself to him.
More often than not, I painted in just a shirt. I liked the freedom and it saved on laundry.
Cam dipped his head, kissing the curve of my breasts as he backed me against the wall.
“We could take this downstairs,” I suggested. It was a mess up here.
“No,” he breathed. “I need you, Hailee.” His fingers went to his sweats, pushing them down his hips right along with his boxers. His hoodie and t-shirt went next until he was standing in front of me stark naked.
God, he was beautiful. Strong and stacked, his torso was a solid slab of muscle, each ab perfectly chiseled and defined.
I reached for him, trailing my hand over the cherry blossom snaking up his arm. Next, I traced the tattoo he’d gotten of the artwork I’d painted on him with my own hand in senior year. It was our initials—HR and CC—looped together with a delicate heart over his pec.
“What?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper.
“I love you, Cameron.” So much it scares me.
He crowded me against the wall and picked me up, pressing my back against the bare brick. “Not as much as I love you.” He grasped himself and lined himself up with my center, pressing into me.
“Oh God,” I moaned as I sank down on him.
Cameron stilled, touching his head to mine and taking a shuddering breath.
“It’s okay.” I laid a hand on his cheek. “I’m here, Cameron, I’m right here.”
Burying his face in my neck, he pulled out slowly before thrusting back inside. It was deep like this, intense and overwhelming in the best kind of way.
“Harder,” I said, letting my head fall back. “Take what you need.”
Cam squeezed my hip, hard enough to leave a bruise as he rocked into me over and over. “Fuck, Sunshine,” he groaned. “You feel like heaven.”
He attacked my mouth like a man starved, all tongue and teeth and teasing strokes.
“Cameron...” His name was a breathy plea on my lips as I drowned in sensation.
“Feel me, Hailee.” Thrust. “Feel what you do to me.” Thrust. “Nothing... nothing will ever feel as good as this.”
He went harder... faster... deeper, driving me into the wall until I knew I’d have friction burns. But it didn’t matter. Cameron needed this and I wanted to be the one to give it to him.