Redeeming You(37)

Capturing her wrists with one hand, he pinned them over her head. Her eyes opened studying his. She didn’t like being restrained. It reminded of her mom locking her in a dark, cramped stairwell closet for hours unable to move, breathing in dust and mildew, but when she saw the heated, almost visceral look in his eyes like he wanted her more than anything in the world in that moment, her body relaxed. Cam wouldn’t hurt her—well, not physically anyway. Her heart was another matter.

“Are you okay?” he muttered as he paused, his vivid blue eyes searching hers.

She smiled, trying to reassure him. “Better than okay,” she whispered because at that instant she was. Cam made her feel better, safer and happier than she could remember being in a long time. Maybe that made her stupid, but she didn’t care. She survived everything life had thrown at her so far and, good or bad, she’d survive this too.

Hitching one of her legs over his shoulder, his thrusts slowly grew faster, deeper, and harder until she understood exactly what more meant. The angle made every nerve in her body come alive. He released her hands and she wrapped her arms around his back trying to pull him closer to her, into her, until every part of his body touched hers, inside and out.

Moaning, she teetered on the edge, her body begging for release even as her orgasm skittered just out of reach. His movements were beautifully coordinated and synchronized just like his fingertips moving over the strings of his guitar. And then, his hips circled—just a small wickedly teasing motion that hit the perfect spot and she screamed as an orgasm ripped through her body, the pleasure so acute she couldn’t think of anything else as almost violent spasms gripped her body. Her nails dug into his back, marking him physically just as he had marked her emotionally. Cursing, he thrust into her one, two, three more times before groaning and collapsing on top of her.

After a few minutes, she could finally think again and she tangled her fingers in the damp hair curling at the nape of his neck as she listened to the symphony of their hearts beating against each other. Thousands of thoughts collided in her mind as she came to terms with what just happened. She hadn’t been with many men in her life; one in high school and her ex who she’d rather not think of again, but she’d never experienced anything resembling what happened between her and Cam. With Cam still buried inside her, she didn’t want to move. It felt amazing to be tucked in his arms, as close as one person could be to another person physically and, in some ways, emotionally. This was new. Intimacy wasn’t her thing, but she could get used to it.

Cam made love like he played his guitar—passionately, creatively and with swoon worthy attention to detail, erasing every last one of her inhibitions and reservations. It was glorious, but also alarming. Alarming because it was only a matter of time before her heart craved more. No, who was she kidding? She already craved more and Cam had made it clear that he didn’t have any more to give.

She whimpered as the alarm coursing through her body morphed into panic. She’d spent her entire life hardening her heart, promising herself that she’d never let anyone hurt her again, but here she was, lying beneath Cam, achingly vulnerable, exposed and without any walls to protect her. This wouldn’t work. She wasn’t cut out to be one of Cam’s groupies and Cam hadn’t promised her anything—not a single damn thing except fun. Getting her heart ripped out didn’t sound like fun. Fuck.

Claustrophobia closed in, her breathing, calm only seconds earlier, accelerated again, heaving at a maddening pace. She needed to get out of there. She needed space. The shadows of the room suddenly felt as though they would swallow her whole and carry her back to that dark, life-draining vacuum of her childhood.

Blindly, she shoved at Cam’s chest, her previous feelings of bliss long since faded into the blind panic.

Cam lifted his head. “Am I too heavy?” he asked pushing her hair away from her eyes.

His touch was so gentle and caring that she thought she might have whimpered. He rolled off of her and leaned on his elbow.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice thick like crushed velvet in the dimly lit room. “Are you mad? Did I do something wrong?”

She turned her face away from his so she didn’t have to see the concerned look on his face. She was fucked up and no amount of pretending otherwise would make it go away. She could tattoo her entire body with stars of encouragement, but she’d still be shattered and incapable of redemption.

“No.” She sat up letting her legs dangle off the side of the bed as she rubbed her eyes repeatedly trying to wipe away all the emotion surging through her fragmented soul. Blank. That’s what she wanted to be: blank, a complete void. Life was much easier that way. Feelings, emotions, and attachments— they were too hard. They created pain. In a year and a half with Miles, she never felt one tenth of what she did just now with Cam. Miles never stole her breath, made her heart race wildly or melted her resistance with one brush of his lips. And that realization devastated her.