Slashed

  It’s the last straw. I’ve been dying to hear those words for years—for what feels like fucking forever. My control deserts me and with one forward thrust of my hips, I’m buried balls deep inside of her.

  Her wet heat clamps around me and she feels so good—so good—that I nearly come with the first stroke.

  With the first lift of her hips against mine.

  With the first moan that falls from her lips.

  But this is Cam, and I need to make it good for her. Need to make her come one more time before I finally let go of everything slamming around inside of me.

  “Cam, baby.” I kiss my way up her neck, pausing occasionally to lick at the rivulets of sweat that are running down her skin. Her sweat. My sweat. At this point I can’t tell whose it is and I don’t give a shit anyway. Don’t give a shit about anything but feeling her come around me.

  “You feel so good,” I tell her as I kiss the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I need you so much. I need—”

  I break off as she uses her free hand to grab my other hip and yank me against her, inside her, hard. She cries out and so do I. Then I’m pumping inside of her in a hard, steady rhythm that has both of us gasping for air as sweat continues to pour down our bodies.

  I’m so close that the need to come is a fire in my blood, a haze in my brain, a drive deep inside of me that I couldn’t hold back even if I wanted to. Being inside Cam feels so good that I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but feel as she tightens her beautiful legs around me and takes me again and again and again.

  Dipping my head, I draw her nipple into my mouth. I suck hard at the same moment I slide my thumb around her clit and start to stroke her.

  She cries out then, and it’s my name on her lips. My name beating through her blood as she rocks her head against the wall and lets me take her higher. Lets me take her all the way to ecstasy.

  She’s coming now, her body clenching rhythmically on my own, and it feels so good that I lose my last tenuous hold on control and fly right over the edge with her. Cam feels it—feels me—and she arches her hips, bites down on my shoulder.

  The sharp little stab of pain takes me even higher, has me gasping out her name as my orgasm goes on and on and on.

  I hold her tight as I empty myself inside of her, pressing my fingers into her hips and my lips against the side of her breast. But she holds me too, her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her fingers tangled in my hair.

  “Luc.” She whispers my name against my skin.

  My defenses break wide open. In those moments, when I’m deep inside of her—when she’s wrapped around me so tightly that I can’t tell where I leave off and she begins—I feel another piece of myself crumble. Feel myself fall just a little harder for her. And as she calls out my name, coming on my cock for what feels like forever, for what feels like a stolen moment out of time, I can’t do anything but give that piece of me—give every piece of me—over to her.

  Can’t do anything but fall deeper and deeper in love with Cam.

  Chapter 9

  Cam

  “She totally rocked the photo shoot,” Luc says, taking the beer Z offers him and holding it up to me in a silent toast that makes my cheeks flush and my stomach jump with a combination of pleasure and embarrassment. Especially when I think about what Luc did to loosen me up before the photo shoot. There’s a part of me that still can’t believe I let him take me up against the wall like that, with everyone from the magazine on the other side of the very flimsy door. Then again, no one seemed to mind, despite the fact that we weren’t exactly quiet—which, I have to admit, makes me wonder just how often something like that happens at cover shoots.

  Just the thought makes my cheeks burn hotter.

  “Seriously,” Luc continues after taking a sip from the dark brown bottle. “By the time she was halfway through the session, the photographer was begging her to model for him again. I guarantee this isn’t the last magazine cover Cam’s going to be on the front of this year.”

  “Sick!” Ash tells me, holding his hand up for a fist bump. “Can’t wait to see the pics. There’s going to be a whole layout inside the magazine, too, right?”

  “Damn straight!” Luc tells him. He looks proud of me when he says it, which only adds to the mixture of emotions inside of me. Is he proud because he’s my friend? Because he’s my boyfriend—if he even is my boyfriend? Or because it was the two orgasms he gave me that made me relax enough that I didn’t actually look like cardboard in front of the camera?

  “That’s so awesome,” Tansy says, bouncing a little in her seat with excitement. “What month is the magazine coming out?”

  “January,” I tell her, ducking my head because I’m still freaked out by the whole lack of clothing thing. “Which is why photographing me in a bikini made absolutely no sense considering I’ll be spending the whole month boarding down mountains.”

  “Are you kidding?” Ophelia shouts to be heard over the jukebox someone just turned on in the corner of the bar. “Guys get to wear athletic clothes. Girls get to wear bikinis—even if it means freezing their asses off. Haven’t you ever noticed that before?”

  “Bikini?” Ash asks, lifting his brows at Luc.

  “Not just any bikini. An itsy-bitsy lime-green bikini that’s more decoration than actual clothing,” Luc tells him. “Among others.”

  “Niiiiiiice.” Ash winks at me. “When do we get to see these pictures again?”

  Tansy punches him lightly in the shoulder. But she’s laughing right along with Ash and Z, Luc, and Ophelia. It hurts a little, but I laugh too. After all, how can I blame them? The idea of me in a skimpy bathing suit is patently absurd, no matter what they told me at the shoot. Especially when I think about Ophelia’s generous curves and Tansy’s tiny, feminine frame. Next to them I look like an ungainly Amazon—if I’m lucky.

  I try not to let it bother me that Luc is laughing too, like the idea of me looking sexy is a joke. I mean, he talked me through it earlier—told me how hot he thought I was—but that was just to relax me. Just to get me through the shoot. And it worked, which I suppose is all that matters. And if a small part of me wishes he’d actually meant all those things he whispered in my ear as he fucked me, well then, that’s nobody’s business but mine. It’s not like I’ve spent so much time thinking about how attractive he is or anything….

  But that’s not strictly true either, because I’ve always thought Luc was hot. Even when I thought I was in love with Z, I still found Luc totally hot. Totally attractive. And now that I’ve seen him naked—now that he’s been inside me—hot doesn’t begin to cover what I think of him. Or how often I think of him.

  A new song comes on the radio—“Pretty Girls” by Britney and Iggy—and Ophelia jumps to her feet. “Dance with me,” she says, grabbing onto Z’s hand, and pulling him toward the makeshift dance floor at the back of the tiny bar we’re hanging out in tonight. He groans, but there’s a huge smile on his face as he willingly follows her.

  I can’t help watching, marveling at the difference nine months has made in him. At the difference Ophelia’s made. The brooding bad boy I’ve known my whole life isn’t gone exactly, but his pain is tempered with the happiness Ophelia brings him and that’s an amazing thing to see. Especially after so many years of watching him die a little more with each day that passed.

  For a long time, I wanted to be the girl who eased his pain, who brought that smile to his face. But seeing him with Ophelia, I don’t feel any regret or jealousy about the way things have worked out. How can I when my best friend no longer has a death wish? When he smiles more than he ever has before?

  I take a sip of my wine, and glance over at Luc to see what he’s doing. Turns out he’s watching me, the intensity in his dark eyes a direct contrast to the lazy way he’s leaning back in his chair, his beer bottle dangling from between two fingers. My mouth goes a little dry at the directness of his stare and suddenly I can’t help wondering if he’s thinking about this afterno
on, too. Or last night. I can’t help wondering if he’s thinking about being inside me again. God knows, having him there is pretty much all I’ve been able to think about all night.

  I can’t help wondering if it shows on my face, can’t help wondering if the others can see it. And if they can, what they think about the two of us being together. If that’s what we are.

  God, this whole friends-to-lovers thing is a total pain in the ass. If Luc weren’t my best friend, I’d say definitely all signs point to the fact that we’re together. But he is, and though he fucked my brains out earlier, right now he’s just chilling, acting like he always does toward me. And I don’t have a clue what that means. Does it mean we’re just fuck buddies? Does it mean he’s ashamed of being with me and doesn’t want anyone else to know he’s bagging plain, tomboy Cam? Or does it mean something else entirely?

  Before we slept together the first time, I would have just asked him. Then again, before we slept together feeling anything beyond friendship for Luc wasn’t something I’d ever considered. And now that I am feeling—something, it’s too late. Too late to say something to him without humiliating myself. Too late to go back to just being friends, at least in my own head. Too late, I’m afraid, for this to go any way other than badly.

  “Hey, guys. How ya doin’?”

  The familiar voice jerks me out of the crazy kaleidoscope of my thoughts, and I glance up just in time to see Josh Greene smiling at me before he slides into Z’s vacant chair. Josh is another snowboarder on the pro circuit, and though he’s a few years older than us, he lives in Salt Lake City so we know him pretty well—especially since he’s been Ash and Z’s main competition for their whole careers. He’s super-talented and super-crazy, an adrenaline junkie who puts even Z at his worst to shame.

  But he’s also a really nice guy.

  “Hey, Josh.” I smile at him as he reaches out, slaps Luc on the back with one hand while he shakes Ash’s hand with the other.

  “Hey, Cam.” He smiles back, waggles his brows at me as he nods toward my just emptied glass. “What are you drinking?”

  “The house red.”

  “Aw, come on, we can do better than that.” He looks at the others. “How about you guys? Next round’s on me.”

  “I think it’s our turn to buy you a drink, isn’t it?” Ash asks. “Didn’t you just sweep the competition in New Zealand?”

  “Only ’cause you guys weren’t there,” Josh answers.

  “Nice,” I say, with a roll of my eyes. “Does that false modesty ever get you anywhere?”

  He shoots me a grin.

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow. But it’s looking good so far.”

  “Is that a Top Gun line?” Tansy demands. “Did you just use a Top Gun line on her? Because I have to say, that takes balls, man.”

  “You know I can’t answer that,” Josh says, totally deadpan.

  “You can’t?”

  Tansy plays right into his hands.

  “It’s classified. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  We all groan, and Ash throws a balled-up napkin at him.

  “Okay,” he says, “now you really are buying the next round. I’ll take a Guinness.”

  “Me, too,” Luc seconds, speaking up for the first time since Josh came to the table.

  “Me, three,” Tansy echoes.

  “Well, that’s easy to remember.” Josh turns back to me as he stands up. “You mind coming with me? Help me carry everything back?”

  “Sure, no problem.” As I squeeze past Tansy and Ash, my gaze meets Luc’s. He’s smiling, but there’s something about the look in his eyes, something about the way he’s holding himself, that makes me think he’s not happy.

  For a moment, just a moment, I wonder if it has something to do with Josh and how attentive he’s being to me. But then I shrug that off as wishful thinking—Luc’s been totally at ease the whole time Josh was at the table, flirting outrageously with Tansy and me. Besides, everyone knows that Josh likes snow bunnies even more than Z used to. I’m so not his type.

  Before I can ask him if he’s okay, Josh starts guiding me toward the bar with a hand between my shoulder blades.

  “So, what’s your favorite wine?” he asks me as we wait for the bartender to get to us. It’s not a weekend, but it’s a small bar off the tourist path, which is enough to keep it busy year round. In a place like Park City, where tourism is everything, finding anything that doesn’t cater to the great vacationing masses is a rarity. And a precious one at that.

  “To be honest, I like everything,” I answer him with a shrug. “I’ve got a slutty palate.”

  That startles a laugh out of him. “A slutty palate huh? I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” His arm slips down around my waist, tightens almost imperceptiblely.

  I barely notice and when I do, it doesn’t alarm me. Josh doesn’t know how to have a conversation without flirting, but it doesn’t mean anything. I’ve known him for years and he’s been like this since the beginning.

  The bartender finally gets to us and we order for everyone, including Z and Ophelia. But when she tells us she’ll have the drinks brought over to us, Josh volunteers to wait. That’s when it hits me. I’m his excuse to hang at the bar and talk to her.

  The bartender is really cute. She’s not a snow bunny, but she is blond and pretty and has a great smile. She also seems really nice—he could definitely do a lot worse. So when he launches into a story about boarding in New Zealand that is obviously meant to impress, I ooh and aah at all the right places, playing it up a little so that he looks good for her.

  I can tell it’s working, because she keeps making suggestive little comments as she delivers the drinks to us, a couple at a time. Josh plays off of them, of course, but when I—very quietly—volunteer to take a couple of trips on my own with the drinks so that he can have more time to hang with her, he shoots me a strange look. And insists on accompanying me back to the table.

  By the time we get there, Z and Ophelia have made it back from the dance floor and are deep in conversation with Tansy and Ash about a band they want to see when we’re in Aspen in a couple of months. Normally, Luc would be right in the middle of this conversation. He’s the one who introduced us to NEEDTOBREATHE to begin with.

  But he’s not talking about the best way to secure tickets to their small, intimate concert. Instead, he’s staring off into space, jaw clenched and foot tapping impatiently.

  I shoot him an inquisitive look, mouth what’s wrong? as I slide his beer in front of him.

  But he just shrugs, waving me away with a no-problem-here attitude. And since he seems totally natural when he turns to say something to Ash, I figure I must have imagined there being something wrong.

  Josh grabs an unused chair from a nearby table, pulls it up close to mine as he drives right into the middle of the conversation. We spend the next half an hour telling tales about boarding, each one a little more outrageous than the next, even though they’re all completely true. It’s mostly for Tansy and Ophelia’s benefit—the rest of us have been on the circuit together long enough to know the stories by heart, but the two of them are new to the snowboarding world and there’s something really fun about the way they gasp, eyes widening and bodies tensing at the most dangerous parts of the stories.

  Josh is a total ham and he’s right in the thick of the storytelling—probably trying to make sure the bartender knows how cool he is. He’s in the middle of a story about filming on location in Patagonia when Ed Sheeran’s “Tenerife Sea” comes on the jukebox.

  He breaks off in the middle of a sentence, grabs my hand. “Dance with me,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “I love this song.”

  “Me, too.” I allow him to lead me out to the postage stamp that doubles as a dance floor. It’s a slow song, so I go with it when he pulls me into his arms, but as he does, my eyes meet Luc’s over his shoulders.

  And as the chorus comes on, Ed singing about his woman—his love—being enough, b
eing all he’ll ever need, Luc’s eyes are dark and tortured and so, so vulnerable that my breath catches in my throat.

  For long seconds, I’m spellbound. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything but feel as I sway gently to the music and stare back at him with all the mixed-up feelings roiling around inside of me.

  But then Josh spins us around, and it’s so disorienting that it takes me a few moments to realize that I’ve lost sight of Luc. I turn my head, frantically try to find him through the tangled bodies of other couples on the dance floor. But Josh is pulling me closer, clutching my hand in his as he smiles down at me. By the time he turns us again and I find Luc, whatever fragile thing had hung in the air between us is long gone. Luc’s deep in conversation with Ash and Z about something, his body turned so that he’s facing completely away from me.

  And as Josh Greene, snowboarder and ladies man extraordinaire, starts singing the lyrics to me, I barely even notice. I’m too busy wondering about what I saw in Luc’s eyes.

  About what it meant.

  And about why I feel so empty now that I’ve lost whatever it was.

  Chapter 10

  Luc

  Cam starts talking as soon as we leave the bar, chattering incessantly about I don’t even know what. It gets to me because it’s so not like her—except that it is. It is exactly like her when she’s nervous or feels out of her depth or simply doesn’t know how to act. That’s when she starts to talk like a crazy person, her words tripping over each other as they tumble out of her mouth so fast and furious that her voice wavers because she doesn’t stop for a moment, not even to take a breath.

  Usually, I’m the one who stops her. I’m the one who gets in her face and calms her down and makes her take a fucking breath every once in a while.

  Just like when she came to my house last night.

  Just like when she was at the photo shoot this morning.