“So you thought that me waking up to a tall man at the side of my bed would be less scary?” He chuckles and kisses my cheek. “You seriously need to stop breaking into my house.”
I pull back.
“Wait. Is that how you got in yesterday morning? You picked the lock?”
I can’t make out his face in the dark, but I feel his shrug. “Old habits die hard.”
We used to break into each other’s bedroom window when we were kids. We’d sneak in and talk, especially during storms. I hate thunderstorms. I always have. I’m surprised Landon remembers.
“Here I thought you had some kind of magical powers,” I say. “But in all reality, you’re just a felon. I couldn’t pick a lock these days if my life depended on it.”
“I’m not a felon,” he says with a laugh. “And if I am, then we all were when we were young. And if memory serves, it was you who taught me how to pick a lock.”
I laugh softly. “No one lived in that old scary house by the river when we broke into it. It was empty.”
“It wasn’t ours to break into. I’m pretty sure I could turn you in for breaking and entering.”
“I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations has expired on those adventures,” I reply, and poke him in the ribs. “Besides, it was you who used to taunt me and Mia about how it was haunted, and horrible ritual killings used to happen there.”
“I was hoping to scare you away from there, not entice you even more.” He kisses my forehead. “I never would have guessed that the cute, responsible girl we all knew would have been up for trespassing.”
“I was up for a lot of things back then,” I reply softly. “The consequences don’t seem so dire when you’re young. It seems you never outgrew your trespassing tendencies.”
“You would have opened the door to me.”
“Just freaking knock next time.”
“Or you could just give me a key and save us all the trouble,” he replies, and kisses my forehead. As the adrenaline slows down, I realize that he smells delicious. His muscles feel amazing under my hands.
He just feels so damn good.
“They tore it down, you know,” I say, still staring into the dark. “That old house.”
“I know. I drove by the other day and it was replaced with a row of town houses.” His hands are roaming soothingly up and down my back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Where’s the gun?”
Silence. I smile against his neck.
“You don’t have a gun, do you?”
“No, but I wasn’t going to tell a potential rapist that.”
“You’re so funny,” he says, his hands moving over my back again. “I don’t have power either.”
The sky lights up and I can see him for just a split second. His hair is still messy from bed. His eyes look tired.
“Thank you for coming to check on me.” I rest against him. “You didn’t have to.”
“You hate storms,” he murmurs.
“That hasn’t changed,” I agree, and then I panic all over again. “Shit! Scoot’s trapped in the bathroom!”
I shimmy off his lap and run to the bathroom, almost tripping on my new Choos on the way.
“Why is he in the bathroom?”
“Because I put him there to protect him,” I reply, and open the door. A pissed-off cat scurries out of the bathroom and jumps up on the bed. “He’ll be pissed at me for a while. Although, he’s always pissed at me.”
“Now that I know you’re okay, I’ll head home.”
“Stay.”
He stills in the darkness. “Cami—”
“You don’t have to have sex with me,” I rush on. “But I’d rather not be alone.”
“Come here.”
I cross to the bed and reach out when I can see his silhouette against the windows, careful not to fall into him. He takes my hand and pulls me down into his lap.
“When we have sex, it won’t be because either of us has to.” His lips are just barely touching my cheek as he speaks. “It’ll be because we’re both ready and can’t keep our damn hands off of each other. Making love to you will never be a chore.”
“I should hope not.”
“And as for tonight, I’ll happily stay if it makes you feel better.”
“It does.”
“Do you want me on the couch?”
“No. I want you to lie in my bed with me and hold me.” I’m breathing easier now. “Please.”
He groans as he lifts me, and with me in his arms, he toes out of his shoes and lies down in my bed, gently lowering me beside him.