Right when my brain finally gets back on track, something slams into my ankles. It takes me by such surprise that my feet come out from under me and I feel myself falling, my arms windmilling until my back smacks against the ground and all the air gets knocked out of my lungs as my baseball hat flies off my head. Before I can even catch my breath or figure out what the fuck just happened, my eyes widen in shock when Cameron is suddenly on top of me, straddling my thighs.
She grabs tightly to my wrists and yanks my arms up, smacking them against the floor above my head. The position forces her body up until all that mouthwatering cleavage the top she’s wearing gave her is hovering right over my mouth and I can’t stop staring at it. The temptation to lift my head and slide my tongue right down the center of it is so strong that I immediately bite down on it until I taste blood.
Cameron turns her head to the side with my wrists still firmly in her grasp and my eyes move up to her profile as she smiles out at the audience.
“And that’s what we call a Leg Sweep. A little more advanced than the Bear Hug, but a lot of fun to practice,” she states.
The room erupts into a roar of applause, and I see out of the corner of my eye that Amelia and a few other workers crowd around Stratford and start talking to him in more depth about self-defense and how good it would be for the camp.
Cameron’s head slowly turns back and she looks down at me, her chest heaving with a few lingering, labored breaths from the exertion she needed to use to take me down.
I want to ask her where the fuck she learned a move like that. I’m six foot two and weigh two hundred pounds, and she just took me down like I weighed no more than a feather. I should be pissed she got the drop on me, but I’m too busy thinking it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
But most of all, I want to yank my arms out from under her hands, slide my palms up her thighs, which are still straddling me, grab on to her hips, and pull her tighter against me. I want her to feel how hot she makes me and know it’s always been her, and it always will be.
Her hold on my wrists slowly eases and she slides her hands down the underside of my arms, and over my chest, pushing herself up as she goes until she’s sitting astride me, filling my head with new fantasies, like what she would look like doing this completely naked.
For the first time, her eyes stay locked on to mine instead of glancing away nervously. Her tongue darts out and slides across her bottom lip before her teeth bite down on the pink, wet fullness of it. There’s a challenge in those beautiful green eyes that I’ve never seen before. Never imagined in my wildest dreams I’d ever see, and it makes my heart beat faster inside my chest.
Without saying a word, she pushes down harder on my chest and swings her leg over mine, pulling her body off of me and quickly getting up from the ground.
“I’ve got some work to do. See you at dinner, honey,” she says from above me, loud enough for Stratford’s benefit, before turning and walking away.
I stare at her as she goes, watching her ass move and her high ponytail sway back and forth across her shoulders, until something suddenly blocks my view.
Looking up in irritation, I see Jason standing above me with his hand out and an amused smile on his face. I smack away his hand in annoyance, rolling over onto my stomach and pushing myself up from the ground, wiping off imaginary dirt from my pants just to give myself something to do other than look at my brother’s smug face.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Jason laughs.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, slamming my shoulder into his as I walk past him and out of the room to find somewhere I can hide until dinner to get my fucking thoughts in order.
So much for Cameron never giving me any indication that she wants more. If a challenge is what she wants, and going by the way she stared at me while she licked her lip and took her time getting off of me, I’m assuming it is, a challenge is what she’ll get.
Game fucking on.
Chapter 25
Cameron
Amelia was right.
Everett is the best distraction there is. The stress I’ve been living with for months about the camp possibly closing hasn’t even entered my mind the last few days. I haven’t been prone to random bouts of crying, and I’ve been sleeping better than I ever have, even with Everett down the hall and out in the living room, still invading my space. The sharp, stabbing pain of missing Aiden hasn’t woken me up in the middle of the night either. All I can think about, all I can concentrate on, is trying to figure my best friend out.
Ever since the self-defense lesson when I took Amelia’s words to heart and decided to turn up the heat a little and see how Everett would react, he’s done the exact opposite of what I thought he’d do. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t ask me what the hell I was doing, and he didn’t look at me like I was insane. Instead, he gave as good as he got until my head was swimming with possibilities and the need for more.
We rode four-wheelers out to a hiking area two days ago to check and make sure the path was still clear for campers. I stupidly forgot to make sure mine had enough gas and it stalled out halfway back to the barn next to the stables, where we keep the ATVs and golf carts for traveling quickly around the camp. My only option was to ride on the back of Everett’s, straddling the seat behind him with the front of my legs molded to the back of his, my chest pressed against him, and my arms held tightly around his waist. I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against his back, letting my palms flatten, one hand pressed against the muscles of his chest and the other sitting dangerously low on his stomach. I could feel his muscles tighten when that hand started sliding down the front of him and felt his quick intake of breath as my hand went down.
He paid me back by teaching me how to drive a stick yesterday. Something I’d been meaning to do for years since we have a truck with a manual transmission here at camp we use for emergencies, but I never got around to doing. I lost track of how many times I stalled the damn thing, and not because I wasn’t able to understand his instruction. It all had to do with how closely he sat next to me on the bench seat, with one of his arms resting around me on the back of the seat. I could smell the soap on his skin from his recent shower, feel his breath against the side of my neck as he patiently told me what to do. When he set his free hand on top of mine on the gear shift to help me move it, I stalled. When he placed his palm on my bare thigh, then slowly slid it down to my knee while telling me how much gas to give the truck as I took my foot off the clutch, I stalled.
Something in Everett has changed. When he looks at me, the glances are more intense, his stare holding mine until I’m the one who breaks it and looks away, because it’s too much and not enough all at once.
I want to ask him what the hell is going on, but I don’t. I want to ask him why he’s looking at me like he wants me, and it’s taking everything in him to hold himself back, but I can’t. Whatever is going on between the two of us, I’m afraid to say it out loud. I feel like I’m floating up to the sky on a bubble filled with wanting and need, and if I speak, it will be like someone stuck a pin in my bubble and I’ll come crashing back down to earth.
I’m not ready to crash. I’m not ready to find out why Everett suddenly looks at me like he can’t get enough of me, can’t stop touching me, and is one second away from pulling me against him and finally letting me feel his mouth on mine.
I don’t want to know if he’s only doing it for Stratford, because the charity dinner is fast approaching and our deadline for convincing him we’re a happily married couple who runs this camp is almost upon us. It doesn’t even matter that half of the things he’s doing that are driving me crazy are when we’re alone and Stratford is nowhere to be found. Maybe he thinks he has to keep up with the charade when we’re alone, to make it more believable when we’re not. I don’t want to know that maybe he’s using me as his own distraction. His way of forgetting about being overseas and what he saw and did there, like he did the night he asked me to curl up with him on
the couch after his nightmare, and his way of forgetting about not being here for Aiden’s funeral…using flirting and playing with my emotions without realizing he’s even doing it, so he’s not tempted to pick up a bottle and take a drink.
The sad thing is, I’d understand if that’s what he’s doing. I’d understand and I’d let him keep right on doing whatever he needed to take away his pain and his guilt, no matter what it did to me.
I’m not ready for my bubble to burst. I’m not ready for the pain of crashing. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. He smiles easier, laughs harder, his face isn’t filled with worry lines, and he doesn’t stare off into the distance, lost in his own memories and pain. He flirts and he teases and he throws my sass right back at me without hesitation.
I want that for him. I’ve always wanted that for him. I want to be the one who makes him happy, no matter the cost, and now that it seems like I’ve succeeded, I’m in no hurry to ruin everything by opening my mouth and letting my insecurities out.
“If he takes his shirt off and dives into the water, I might fight you for him,” Amelia whispers, coming up next to me on the dock to stare over at the small beach surrounding the lake.
Everett stands in the sand with his arms crossed in front of him, nodding his head at something the lifeguard says. His board-short-style swim trunks show off his amazing ass, and the Camp Rylan T-shirt he wears is stretched across the muscles of his chest and back, making my hands tingle remembering how it felt to have my arms around his body and my hands pressed against that chest.
Even though it’s Friday and we don’t usually have campers here during the week until the summer session starts, once a month, we open up the camp for a day so kids who have never been here before can give it a try and test it out to see if it’s something they might like to do. We don’t offer all camp activities on testing day, but enough to give them a good idea of what it’s like to attend Camp Rylan. I probably should have rescheduled this month’s testing day, since it fell the day before the charity dinner, but by the time I realized the date, it was too late. I’ve got a million and one things I need to be doing to get ready for the dinner on top of trying not to panic that there isn’t much time left to make Stratford believe we love each other, but instead, I’m standing on the dock, ogling Everett and quietly wishing he’d take his shirt off, like Amelia stated.
Going even further with his idea about empowering the kids, Everett thought we should try hosting a class on CPR and teach the older kids how to save someone who’s drowning. Stratford is sitting in a chair a few feet from Everett, the lifeguard, and the twenty kids who wanted to attend today’s lesson, holding an umbrella over his head as he watches the class. I’ve seen him almost crack a smile twice, so it seems to have been a good idea.
“What the hell are we doing?” I mutter, unable to take my eyes off of Everett when he turns away from the group and starts walking across the sand toward the dock, where we’re standing.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m dreaming about that man taking his shirt off,” Amelia says.
“I don’t mean me and you, I mean me and him,” I tell her, nodding in Everett’s direction.
“You’re finally acting on something you should have done a long time ago. I can’t believe that for all these years I thought you and Aiden were meant to be. One look at you and Everett together and I realize how wrong I was. How did no one else see this?”
“It’s never okay to want your best friend. It’s messy and it’s complicated,” I state, even though I know it’s a lie.
Maybe what I had with Aiden was more comfortable and safe than the electric charge of want and need running through my veins all the time with Everett, but it was never messy or complicated.
“No, it’s how it’s supposed to be. As your best friend, he knows you better than anyone. He knows your faults and he still wants to be around you anyway. He’s the person who believes in you and supports you and always has your back. There’s no learning curve getting to know each other, because you already know everything there is to know. You just have to stop being afraid.”
Amelia gives my arm a squeeze as she walks away from me and down the dock, saluting Everett as she moves past him and he moves toward me. I have to bite back a laugh when she turns around behind him and makes grabby hands toward his ass then fans herself.
Everett sees me trying to hide my smile and looks back over his shoulder.
“What’s so funny?”
Amelia quickly drops her hands, gives him a serious nod, then turns and walks away.
“Just my friend being an idiot. You ready to do this?” I ask, looking up at his face when he turns back around to face me.
“Am I ready to save a drowning damsel in distress and show those kids how it’s done? Absolutely,” he grins down at me.
Putting my hands on my hips, I glare up at him.
“I have never been, nor will I ever be, a damsel in distress. Your ass is going in the water and I’m going to save you,” I inform him.
“ANYTIME YOU GUYS ARE READY OVER THERE!”
Everett and I both turn when our lifeguard on staff shouts from the beach, lifting his hand to give us a wave.
“You better hurry up and get in the water so I can save you. It’s almost time for lunch and those teenagers are going to revolt if we don’t feed them,” Everett says, looking back at me with a smirk.
“No, you better hurry up in the water so I can save you.”
“Will you stop being so stubborn,” he says with a shake of his head.
“I’m not being stubborn, you’re being stubborn. Get in the water.”
“You have five seconds or I’m going to toss you in,” he threatens, taking a step toward me as he begins his countdown. “Five, four—”
“You wouldn’t dare! You can’t throw me in when I still have my clothes on,” I argue.
“Three…you have your bathing suit on under your shorts and tank top. It’s a shame I’m already at three. It would have been nice to see you take your clothes off all nice and slow.”
The heat in his eyes as they trail up and down my body almost makes me forget he’s ticking me off.
“Everett…”
I try to growl his name in warning, but it comes out as a pathetic squeak because now his hands have grabbed ahold of the hem of my tank top. The tips of his fingers graze across my stomach as he slowly starts to lift it.
“Two,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving mine, making me forget all about the campers a few hundred yards away, watching and waiting.
My heart thunders in my chest when his hands flatten against my sides, moving them up and bringing my tank top with them. He pauses with his palms resting on my rib cage, his thumbs moving back and forth along the underside of my breasts.
I hold my breath as I stare up at him, and watch his eyes trail down my face until he’s staring at my lips. I can feel myself leaning toward him, pushing up on my toes until my mouth is hovering right over his. I want his mouth on mine. I want his hands to keep moving higher until he’s cupping my breasts in them.
My eyes flutter closed as all the things I want and need are swirling around in my head, making my body ache for more.
“One.”
I don’t even have time to open my eyes. Everett’s hands on me suddenly shove me away, and before I know it, I’m tumbling backward, splashing into the cold water of the lake. My shock and surprise is short-lived, and I immediately start kicking my legs and slicing my arms through the water to bring myself up to the surface, every curse word I’ve ever heard before on the tip of my tongue, ready to be screamed to the heavens as soon as my head comes up out of the water.
I hear a loud splash, and a second later, Everett’s arm suddenly wraps around my waist from behind, pulling me up to the surface. At this point, my fight or flight has kicked in, and coupled with my anger that he just pushed me into the lake, I start struggling against him, clawing at his arm and kicking my legs back, trying to find
some part of him to connect with.
My head comes up out of the water and I take in a huge lungful of air, removing my nails from the skin of his forearm long enough to swipe my wet hair out of my eyes.
“I cannot believe you pushed me in!” I shout, trying to kick and squirm out of his hold.
Everett doesn’t say a word, just tightens his arm around my waist and continues swimming us both through the water toward the shore. He grunts and curses under his breath when my elbow makes contact with his chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the campers all gathered around on the beach, watching Everett pull me in, and I realize I’m making it extremely hard on him by struggling and flailing all around, and not acting like I should to make this demonstration accurate.
For the good of the camp, I give up fighting and let my body go limp, making myself feel better by calling Everett every name I can think of quietly in my head as he finally gets us to shore and I’m placed on my back on the sand.
Closing my eyes so I won’t be tempted to reach up and punch him when I see his face, I hear him splash the rest of the way out of the water and move up by my head. His hands grab me under my arms and he quickly pulls me a few feet away from the water’s edge.
“After your drowning victim is safely out of the water, you’ll kneel down by their side, placing your ear by their mouth and nose to check for breathing,” our lifeguard explains.
Drops of water from Everett splash down on me when he leans over me, doing as instructed.
“If the person is not breathing, check for a pulse by placing two fingers under their chin right at the pressure point.”
Behind my eyes, I see the shadow of Everett move away and feel his fingers pressing against my throat, where my heartbeat is strong and steady.
“If there is no pulse, start CPR,” the lifeguard states, listing the steps as Everett follows along.
I feel his palms press gently against my chest between my breasts, his fingers resting so close to my nipples that I’m glad he’s no longer feeling for a pulse, or he’d know just how fast my heart is beating right now.