Rubi:Not the point, Sainty. Though, at least banging my head against the window in time with his fuck-awful EDM will save me from starving to death
Because Ranger had binned all his snacks too, in revenge for something to do with falafel that I’d let Decoy break up, then felt bad when he’d told me he felt like smoking.
I clicked out of the message thread as another text pinged through.
Alexei.
The message was in Russian, but I’d learned enough to decipher the tone, and it wasn’t the crackling fire that sent heat pooling in my blood.
He wants us to fuck.
So did I.
I dropped the phone in my boot and rose.
Cam was still leaning against the bed. Still nursing the vodka. Still watching me. “He okay?”
Alexei, not Rubi.
I nodded and moved into Cam’s orbit, confiscating the bottle.
He widened his legs, making room for me, sliding his hands under my clothes, his rough palms making contact with bare skin. I shivered at the touch and a low rumble rattled his chest.
“I want you,” he whispered. “But holding you is always enough.”
He’d already said that. It bothered me that he felt the need to say it again. That he thought he couldn’t read me. Maybe I wasn’t giving him enough for him to know I wanted him too.
I slid his belt free of the buckle and pushed his chest. “Get on the bed.”
Cam arched a brow but obeyed, and I covered him with my body, kissing and kissing and kissing him, peeling his clothes away, shedding mine, the cold night a distant thought as the log burner did its job.
Sometimes I kissed Cam like this for hours, keeping the beast in him at bay, but I didn’t feel like that tonight. I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted to give him what he needed. Iwantedto fuck him. On his back. On his belly. All over this fucking bed.
It was dark in the van, only the glow of the fire lighting the space. But I saw every nuance in Cam’s stare as he gazed at me, reading me better than he ever gave himself credit for.
“You want me, Saint?”
I pushed his hand to my dick.
Cam wrapped his calloused palm around me and his pupils dilated. “Fuck.”
Yeah.
Fuck.
But there was always a question mark over what that meant for us. Which way it would go. Recently, I’d let him fuck me more often than I’d fucked him, but it had been a while, and my mood had to be some weird kind of specific to let someone—anyone—inside me.
Even Cam.
Especially Cam.
He was so fucking dominant—he had to be to survive. But yielding to that didn’t come easy to me. Sometimes it didn’t come at all, and I felt that tonight, like I’d brought a layer of tension home from the road I wasn’t quite ready to shift.
Cam felt it too. He squeezed my dick and lay back, pulling me over him. “First time we ever fucked was on this bed.”
I let my weight settle on him, testing how submissive he was feeling, grinding us together in a slow circle of my hips.I remember.
Of course I did. We’d writhed under the blankets while a freezing dawn swirled around us and I’d been so convinced that was it for us. That he’d never want me to fuck him, and I’d never be able to let him fuck me.