Need You Now

  "Hey, Mike," he said to the eighteen-year-old bar back who was unloading the freshly washed bar glasses from a green plastic rack. "When you head back to the kitchen, could you pop your head in the office and tell Tyree I have a question?"

  "Sure," Mike said, flashing a quick grin that so resembled Reece that it reminded Cam that the two were family. Cousins, actually. And apparently close ones.

  A few minutes later, Mike was gone, but then Tyree re-appeared in his place. "Sunday? Yeah, you're on from four to close."

  "Oh." His eyes cut to Mina, then back to Tyree. "No problem."

  Tyree's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "But I was about to go into the schedule and change that. I'll already be here because of the meeting, and Jenna said she's working late Sunday night, too."

  Cam said nothing, afraid to get his hopes up.

  "Tell you what. Consider this your last responsibility-free weekend. And next Friday night, you'll dive into your new position with lots of vim and vigor. Deal?"

  "Sounds perfect to me," Cam said, forcing himself to look only at Tyree and not grin like an idiot at Mina.

  Tyree nodded, the firm motion sealing the deal. And that's when Cam turned to Mina. "Looks like I'm all yours."

  "That's fabulous," she said.

  "We're going to babysit Faith for Brent," Cam explained, since Tyree was still standing there.

  "Uh-huh," Ty said, glancing from Cam to Mina and then back to Cam again. "Well, you have fun, son." And then after a slight pause he met Cam's eyes. "With Faith."

  Cam nodded in acknowledgement. He appreciated the show of male solidarity, but was going to feel like a damn fool if this was all in his imagination. If there was no connection.

  Or if he never got up enough goddamn nerve to even hint to Mina how he felt.

  Then again, he'd already inadvertently dropped a hundred hints. Tyree had seen that clearly enough.

  Had Mina?

  And if she had, was she ignoring them?

  Hell. His stomach twisted again, and suddenly his twenty-four years felt much more like fourteen.

  He rarely dated because he didn't have time. And, honestly, because the women he met didn't send the same thrill running through his blood that Mina did.

  But right then he was wishing he'd had just a little more practice in the art of reading a woman.

  On stage, the band started to play a cover of Taylor Swift's Love Story. He'd been fourteen when the song came out, and every time he heard Swift belting out the ballad about two kids in love, he'd thought of Mina.

  Beside him, Mina pushed her wine glass away. "It's getting late. I should probably head home."

  "Right. Sure. Just let me pay, and we can go." He signaled to Eric, then settled the bill. They said a few goodbyes as they headed for the door, and she led the way, heading east on Sixth Street and then turning south on one of the streets that ran perpendicular.

  They walked for several blocks, the streets becoming darker and more deserted.

  "Did you park all the way across the river?" Cam asked after they'd gone three blocks.

  "Ha, ha. The closer lot was full. But I'm just over there." She pointed down the street where a small sign with an arrow advertised paid parking.

  They kept walking, but then she stopped and turned, obviously in response to the pounding footsteps that Cam had also heard.

  It was a guy in a hoodie, and by the time Cam turned, he was practically on top of them. He shoved Mina into Cam, sending him stumbling. And as he righted himself, he realized that the sharp noise in the air was the echo of Mina's scream.

  "Mina!"

  She swallowed the scream, her eyes wide. "My purse! That fucker cut the strap on my purse."

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  He didn't think--he just took after the guy. Blood pounded in his head, and he clenched his fists as he raced forward, wanting only to catch the guy and slam his fist right into the thief's ugly face. He wanted to fucking hurt him for scaring her. For stealing from her. For putting his goddamn filthy hands on her.

  "Cam! Cam, stop!"

  The fear in her voice got through the storm of rage in his head, and he spun around, breathing hard.

  "Are you insane! He has a knife. What do you think he'll do if you catch him?"

  "He shoved you. He touched you."

  Her lips parted as if she was going to say more--probably yell at him for being an idiot--but then she drew in a breath and nodded as tears pooled in her eyes.

  He sucked in air, then looked around, realizing that he'd followed the guy into one of the side alleys. "He's gone, anyway."

  "Look at me. I'm shaking."

  "Hey, it's okay now." He put his hands on her shoulders. "He's gone. It's fine. Your phone and credit cards can all be replaced."

  She blinked away tears, her voice shaky as she said, "It was only make-up. After Brent told us about him, I put my credit card and driver's license in my back pocket, along with my phone."

  "So he got nothing?"

  She shook her head. "But I was so afraid he was going to hurt you. Cam, he had a knife. What if he'd stopped? Turned around? He could have c-cut you. He could have k-k-killed you."

  He wanted to reassure her. To tell her he was fine. To tell her that the pain and fear in her eyes--fear for him--was the most wonderful, terrifying, humbling thing in the world.

  And even though he knew that he might be screwing everything up--even though he knew he should simply hold her and tell her they were both perfectly all right--he did the only thing that he could do.

  He leaned in, caught the back of her head, and closed his mouth over hers.

  Chapter Five

  Mina gasped as Cam's tongue swept inside her mouth and his body pressed hard against hers. She didn't know if it was lust or adrenaline that pounded through her veins. All she knew was that she wanted this--the taste of him, the feel of him. The strength and safety of his arms.

  With heated purpose, his mouth explored hers, his tongue warring with hers, his teeth tugging on her lower lip. It was a kiss that claimed--that demanded surrender. And she willingly gave herself over to him, wanting nothing more than to get lost in this wild, wicked, and unexpected sensual assault.

  Nearby, she could hear the sound of cars rushing down the streets. She could smell the fetid scent of the alley and feel the rough brick abrading her back through the thin cotton of her shirt. But none of that mattered. The only thing she wanted was more--more Cameron, more power, more of the lightning that was crackling around them, making her skin tingle as if electricity was surging through her body, fueled by his touch and her desire.

  Gently, he lessened the assault of his kiss, stepping back so that the charged air filled the space between them. At first, she whimpered, wanting to regain that connection, but then he trailed his lips over the soft corner of her mouth, then across her cheek to her ear. His tongue teased her, and she felt the sensation rocket through her, cutting straight to her core and filling her with a liquid heat that made her body throb in silent demand.

  "Tell me you like that." Cam's voice was low, powerful, and as it reverberated through her body, she felt more than heard his words.

  "Yes." She had to lick her lips because her mouth had gone so dry.

  "Me, too," he murmured. "You taste sweet. I want to taste every inch of you."

  She whimpered, her imagination conjuring the most wonderful fantasies of his tongue exploring her body. "Cam." The word was soft. A plea, and as if in response, he gently trailed his finger down her body, following the line of her shoulder, her collarbone, then moving on to the swell of her breast.

  Her nipples were hard as pebbles, and he teased one lightly through the cotton of her shirt and the thin material of her bra. So lightly that she wanted to scream. To beg him to touch her harder. Wilder. She wanted to get lost in the storm that was ripping through her. More than that, she wanted to get lost in him. His kisses. His touch. His silent demands.

  He kept one hand on her breast, but with
the other, he continued a slow exploration, leaving her skin lightning-kissed as he moved lower and lower.

  "Yes," she moaned as his hands slid down and found the hem of her tee-shirt. Slowly, he tugged it up, higher and higher until he'd exposed her bra. And when he tugged down her bra cup, then closed his mouth over her breast, she had bite her lip not to scream with pleasure.

  The shirt had ridden up her torso, and the feel of the bricks on her now-exposed lower back made some of her sanity return. They were in an alley. They were in public.

  But she didn't care. Dear God, she really didn't care. She just wanted Cam. This intimacy. This moment.

  With his free hand, he fumbled at the button on her jeans, but she pushed his hands away and unfastened them herself. Then she yanked down the zipper with a whispered, "Yes. Oh, please, yes." She craved him, desperate for the feel of him against her, in her. His body covering hers, claiming her. Protecting her.

  He groaned, low in his throat, the sound full of surprise and pleasure. Then his fingers slipped into her panties. She reveled in the connection, closing her eyes and arching her back as his fingers slid down inside her tight jeans, cupping her. "Baby, you're so wet."

  "Please." It was the only word she could manage. But with a low, demanding groan, she buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. He took the hint and thrust his fingers inside her.

  "Yes," she cried, her mouth hard against his, the sound muffled as he finger-fucked her hard and deep.

  "God, Mina, you feel so good."

  "Cam," she begged. "I want you inside me."

  "Do you have any idea how much I want that, too?"

  "Please," she urged, grinding against his hand. She felt lost. Drunk. And she'd only had the one glass of wine, and dammit, she wasn't even scared anymore. She was high on his touch, wild with need. Perfectly sober and drowning in lust and desire and a sexual craving that was so intense it bordered on painful.

  Slowly, his fingers moved inside her, and she bit her lip, wriggling against his hand. "You feel so amazing," he said. "I want you, and I'm just drunk enough to take you right here."

  "Yes," she said. "Oh, God, yes." She felt her body clench tight around his fingers, then heard his soft sound of surprise and pleasure at the evidence of just how much that idea appealed to her.

  He bent his head closer to her ear, his slick fingers stroking her shaved pussy as he slid in and out in a rhythm designed to make her crazed.

  "Oh, God, baby," he murmured, his lips caressing the corner of her mouth. "You feel so good it's making me dizzy. I want to turn you around and take you hard against this wall, then get on my knees, spread your legs and taste every inch of you. I want to tease you with my tongue until you beg me to make you come, and I'm just drunk enough to tell you all this out loud."

  "Don't just tell me," she whimpered, craving an explosion that seemed just out of reach. "Do it," she begged, so ready for his touch, so desperate to lose herself to him. "Cameron, yes. Now, please."

  "I want to," he said, and there was pain in his voice. "You don't know how much I want to."

  She looked into his eyes and saw the blue-gray steel of resolve.

  "But not now," he whispered, tearing her heart in two. "Not like this."

  * * *

  Cameron couldn't believe he was actually putting the brakes on. Especially since every cell in his body wanted to turn her around, cup his hands over her breasts, and take her hard. To make her his. To erase the thought of every other guy so that she saw only him. Wanted only him.

  And he would.

  But not like this. Not in a stinking alley.

  She deserved candlelight and silk sheets. Strawberries and champagne. At the very least, she deserved a bed--not to have her back scratched up by rough brick as he buried himself in her. Not to have her remember the rank odor of rotting food instead of the scent of him and the musk of sex.

  "Cam. Please."

  She stood right in front of him, her mouth mere inches from his, her body boxed in by his palms that were now flat on the brick wall behind her. Her voice was a plea and her eyes--her wonderfully sober eyes--brimmed with a green fire that sparked with blatant, sexual need.

  He felt his cock grow harder as his need grew and his resolve faded. He might be a fool who believed he could chase down a thug with a knife, but none of that mattered because this woman--this gorgeous, vibrant, amazing woman--wanted him.

  Her hand slid down to cup his balls, and he moaned as liquid fire poured through him. He felt as weak as a kitten and as strong as Hercules, and he leaned forward, burying his face at the crook of her neck as she murmured, "Please. Oh, God, Cam, please."

  Yes, he thought. Oh, hell, yes. His hands moved to cup her perfect ass. To tug her roughly against him so that he felt the press of her everywhere. Thighs, sex, breasts.

  His heart pounded in time with hers, and he knew that if she said his name one more time he really would take her right there--and he also knew that he'd regret it in the morning. Her voice was a plea, an incantation. And he was just tipsy enough to fall under its spell.

  With supreme effort, he gathered his resolve. "Not here." Roughly, he pulled away, the motion taking more effort than any regimen of torture he'd ever suffered in Matthew's gym. For the first time in years he regretted not staying in the South Austin house he and Kiki had inherited from their grandmother. A house where there was privacy. Tons of privacy.

  But the house was rented now, and he bunked in a co-op near campus, paid for by his scholarship's housing allowance. But there was no way in hell he was making love to Mina in a ratty twin bed with his suite-mate in the next room jacking off to their moans and the squeak of his bed springs.

  "My place." Her voice burned into him, hoarse and urgent.

  He thought of Darryl and his room that looked out over the grounds--and Mina's apartment. "Are you sure?"

  "Hell, yes."

  Thank God.

  Tomorrow, Cam would think about the ramifications of sleeping with Mina, the woman he'd craved forever. The woman his best friend watched over like a hawk.

  A woman who, Cam had always believed, was so far out of his league he'd have a better shot climbing a ladder to heaven.

  But he must have earned his way to salvation, because she'd just invited him through the pearly gates, and for better or worse, there was no way he was saying no.

  He stepped back, giving her room to move, but taking her hand as he did, simply because he was unwilling to break the connection. "Are you okay to drive?"

  "I'm fine." She licked her lips, looking suddenly unsure. "How about you? Are you okay?"

  "I'm not driving."

  Her eyes slid away from his. "I mean--"

  "I know what you mean," he said, then bent forward to kiss her gently. "And I'm fine. I'm coherent. I'm bubbling over with free will. And," he added as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, "I've wanted to do this for about as long as I can remember. The only thing the bourbon's done is give me a jolt of courage."

  He could hear the relief in her laughter. "Oh. Well, then thank God for bourbon."

  "You got that right."

  She fished in her pocket for her keys, and he had to once again admire her foresight in removing everything except her make-up from her purse.

  "Let's go. The car's just one block over."

  It took only a few minutes to get to her sporty Mercedes, and then only twenty minutes after that to get from downtown to her house on the south side of the river, just off of Redbud Trail. But as far as Cam was concerned, that was twenty minutes too long.

  She parked at the end of the drive, as close to the door to her apartment as it was possible to get. And though neither of them spoke about it, Cam knew they were both hurrying to get inside not just to get their hands on each other, but because the faster they got behind closed doors, the less chance there was that Darryl would see them.

  Mina fumbled the key in the lock, and then, laughing, pushed it open and pulled him
inside. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, they both just stood there, the hall light shining bright around them, as if they'd been thrust out of a sensual land of shadows and dreams and into the harsh light of an examination room.

  "Mina," he said, suddenly unsure of himself, of the situation, of everything.

  She swallowed, then took a step back so that she was leaning on the door, her hand resting on the knob as if in silent assurance that she could open it at any time. "I--" She drew a breath and started again. "This is going to sound crazy, but I kind of wish we'd stayed in that horrible alley."

  He frowned, trying to parse out her meaning from her words. "Do you want me to go?"

  "No," she said, but the word seemed tentative, and he was desperately afraid that what she meant was yes. "It's just that I'm thinking about it now. What it was like, I mean."

  She spoke so softly that he had to strain to hear her. But then a wild, primal need rippled through his body as his mind finally put the pieces together.

  That's what she wanted. That rawness. That fear-induced lust that had overtaken them in that fetid alley and erased their inhibitions. Because Cam knew damn well that if that thief hadn't stolen her purse, she'd have politely driven him home, and he'd have politely said goodnight.

  But instead they'd ended up almost fucking in an alley. They'd crossed a line, goddammit. A line that he'd been dreaming about for most of his life.

  And he damn sure didn't intend to turn back now.

  He took a single step toward her, but that was enough to put him right in front of her. He said nothing, but reached out and ran his hand along her hairline, his eyes focused on hers. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he knew she couldn't tell. He looked calm. He looked in control. And goddammit, he was going to turn that fiction into a reality.

  "You have one chance to tell me to go," he said, moving his hand from her face to the wall behind her. The other hand hung by his side, so that she wasn't fully boxed in. "One chance to stop this."

  He inched closer. "I'm going to undress you, Mina. I'm going to spread your legs and get on my knees, and I'm going to make you scream my name. And baby, that's just the beginning. So if you want me to go, say so now. Because once I start touching you, I really don't think I can stop."

  He held his breath, afraid that she'd seen through his bravado. That now that they were out of the alley she'd realized it was all a big mistake. The world was tilting under him as he gave her a chance to tell him to leave. And when she drew in a breath and her lips moved, the knowledge that she was about to kick him out struck him with the force of a blow.