Kiss Cam (With A Kiss Book 1) Read online

  We continued to talk about our jobs and other inconsequential drivel until he slowed, pulling into the underground parking lot beneath a tall building right on the Willamette river. He pulled into a numbered spot and shut off the ignition. He gave me his brilliant smile, then turned and climbed out of the car. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. I saw his ass as he climbed out and it would go down in the history of me as one of the best moments of my life. He shut his door and I took in a deep breath, trying to steel myself for what I knew was coming; more confirmation that we were worlds apart.

  I reminded myself that after the next hour I could go back to my own little apartment, the one I loved that was over a tiny thrift store, and Camden could go back to his high-rise life. The thought saddened me more than I hoped it would, and that surprised me, but like everything else, I pushed those feelings down. I’d drink a beer, I’d joke around with him, appreciate his impressive body in that deadly suit, his beautiful eyes, and his fantastic sense of humor, but then I’d go back to real life.

  Chapter Four

  Camden

  The small heels of her shoes echoed through the parking garage as we made our way toward the elevator. I was having high school flashbacks as I contemplated holding her hand, but I was nervous she’d shake me off, find a reason to shrug away from me, and I didn’t think I could handle the rejection just yet.

  The last hour I’d spent with Riley was more fun than any date I’d ever been on. She was hilarious, laid-back, witty, and her sarcasm was on point. And she was gorgeous. A spitfire little thing, and a large part of me wanted to feel exactly how small she was by holding her against me, by wrapping my arms around her, but her signals were less than clear. I could literally see the moments where she seemed really into me and then suddenly pulled herself back, almost as if she were talking herself out of it.

  She followed me to the elevator and I punched in my security code. The doors opened and I motioned for her to enter first. It was a glass elevator, and after I’d pushed the button for the ninth floor, she watched the skyline as we rose.

  “When my brother was little he used to call it Ice Mountain,” she said with a sweet smile.

  “What?” I asked, confused but still staring at her, taking in her beauty with the city behind her.

  “Mt. Hood,” she said as she gestured out of the elevator to the mountain in the east.

  “Older or younger?”

  “He’s three years younger than me.” She turned back to me and her smile was different, more loving, warmer. It looked as though she had a lot of affection for her younger brother.

  “Does he live near here?”

  “He’s still in school down in Eugene.” A flash of sadness moved over her face, but she looked happy again in an instant. “He’s working on his master’s degree. Wants to be a music teacher.”

  “That’s a gamble in today’s society.”

  She shrugged and held up her hands. “I tried to warn him. People are far more concerned with their next event than the musical education of our nation’s youth. Which is why my career choice is much better.”

  I laughed as the elevator came to a stop on my floor. I led her down the hallway to my door, and for some reason I was nervous. I unlocked the door, stepped in, flipped on the lights, and then watched as she took in my space. A weird new part of me wanted her to like my apartment, wanted her to feel at home there. This thought had never occurred to me when I’d brought other women home. I’d never given a thought as to whether the woman I was entertaining would approve of my home, but for some reason, with Riley, I did.

  I wondered if the dark colors and bare walls made me appear cold, or if the sharp lines and leather furniture made me seem hard. For a strange and unfamiliar reason, I needed her to see me as approachable, likable, touchable even. But I was afraid my home wasn’t a good representation of that.

  She walked slowly through the entryway and moved straight to the large window in the living area. It had the same view as from the elevator, just a wider window. The river was a stone’s throw away, the bridges, the eastern skyline, the trees, the mountain. It didn’t include Portland’s impressive skyscrapers, but those weren’t what made Portland famous anyway. It was the way the strange big little town was nestled between nearly every kind of nature you could imagine. Beaches, mountains, deserts, rivers, lakes—they were all within a few hours’ drive.

  “Ice Mountain looks gorgeous from your living room,” she said, tossing a sexy smile over her shoulder at me.

  “There are a few things that look gorgeous from my point of view,” I said, surprised at my own level of cheese. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes at me, and I couldn’t blame her. It sounded like a line, but it wasn’t. I was so stupidly nervous to have her in my house, the words were coming out of my mouth without passing through the filter I normally employed.

  When she finally turned back around, her eyes were friendly and she was still smiling. “So, where’s this fancy beer you’ve promised me.”

  I walked back toward the kitchen, saying, “I never said it was fancy.”

  “No?”

  “No. I simply said it was dark and it was my favorite.” I reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of Guinness.

  “Guinness is your favorite beer?” she asked, eyebrows high in surprise.

  “All others pale in comparison, quite literally.”

  “My first legal St. Patrick’s Day, I got totally smashed on Irish car bombs. Guinness and I do not get along.”

  “A deal’s a deal,” I said, holding a can out for her. She took it with a huff, placed it on the counter, snapped it open, and then held it out toward me. “Here’s to getting your ass handed to you by a Skee-Ball shark.”

  I opened my own can and tapped it against hers, my smile pulling on my cheeks. “Cheers.” We both took our drinks, but hers ended in a pinched face along with a groan.

  “Nope. I can’t,” she said, placing the can on the counter again. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sour face she was making. She gave me a wry look, but then surprised me by hopping up onto my kitchen counter, making herself at home, and folding her hands in her lap. “So, you’re the mayor’s son, you’re an entertainment lawyer, you kick ass at Skee-Ball, you live in a palace in the sky, and you drive the Batmobile. What else do I need to know about you, Camden Rogers?”

  I didn’t like the implication of her question, the idea that I was more, or in some sort of league that was above her. I could practically feel her building a wall between us. I stood across from her, leaning back against the island in the kitchen, and brought my beer to my lips, taking a long pull while keeping my eyes on her. “How about we ask each other questions. You first, then me. Totally honest answers, no matter the question.”

  “Like truth or dare without the dare aspect? Where’s the fun in that?”

  “I’m not interested in stunts or pranks.”

  “Just the truth?”

  “Just you.” Her eyes widened at my words and her breath caught. I watched as she tried to rein in her reaction, tried to brush it off as if it hadn’t affected her at all.

  “Fine. You’re on. How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  “Sixteen,” I answered immediately. “Couldn’t start with something less personal, like favorite food?”

  “Your tongue’s been in my mouth,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Trust me,” I said, letting my eyes roam her entire body, hoping to make her squirm, “I remember.” When I saw her shift her weight from one side to the other and her cheeks pink up again, I considered it a job well done. “When did you lose your virginity?”

  “Seventeen. He’d been my boyfriend for three years. He dumped me two weeks later.”

  “Well, he sounds like an asshole.”

  “I’d drink to that if I didn’t hate your favorite beer.” She smiled at me playfully. “Okay, um, worst way you ever dumped a girl?”

  “You can’t be serious. I ple
ad the fifth. There’s no way to answer that question without incriminating myself or making myself look like a jerk.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she nodded slowly. “I see. You’re a bad breaker-upper. I probably should have seen this coming. I did witness the Sophia debacle.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can we not talk about Sophia? Using her as an example is like, I don’t know, claiming watermelon Jolly Ranchers actually taste like watermelon.”

  “What are you saying? Sophia didn’t taste right?” She asked the question with a smile, playfully, so I took that cue from her and moved to close the distance between us. I pushed off the counter and my hands went right to her knees, sliding up her thighs a little, my hips fitting between her legs.

  “I know you tasted better.”

  She sucked in a quick breath and her eyes darted from my eyes to my lips, but she didn’t pull back. She didn’t close herself off or push me away; in fact, she leaned into me, just barely.

  “You tasted like cotton candy,” I said softly, my gaze unable to stay off her lips. “And Hefeweizen.”

  “That sounds gross,” she whispered.

  “It was fucking amazing.” I reached up slowly and thumbed her bottom lip, loving the way she sucked in another breath when I touched her. “And I imagine if I were to kiss you right now, you might taste like Guinness.” I watched as her lips pulled up into a smile.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She laughed.

  I nodded and moved my gaze from her lips to her eyes, glad to see her smile extended to them. “May I? In the name of kissing and research?”

  She rolled her eyes playfully, shrugged, then said, “I guess. But only for the sake of science.”

  “Right,” I whispered, leaning in. “Science.”

  One thing became clear the moment our mouths connected: the only time in the last twenty-four hours Riley was being completely honest with me was when we were kissing. Her kisses were real, and the way she moved her mouth against mine left me feeling as though she felt just as connected as I did, not as if we were too different or too wrong for each other. The way she kissed me only cemented the fact that together we were perfect.

  Just like the first kiss, this one was effortlessly spectacular. Her lips fit perfectly against mine, moved in rhythm with mine, tasted perfect, like Guinness and Riley and lip gloss. Her face was the perfect shape to fit right into the palms of my hands, and her legs were made to wrap around my waist, just like they did that instant.

  I knew she’d feel amazing in my arms, that the smallness of her would be the biggest turn-on I’d ever experienced. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her body closer to mine so that she was barely balancing on the edge of the counter. My mouth moved over hers and her fingers twined in my hair as she let out a small moan.

  The smooth fabric of her blouse glided underneath my fingers as I brought my hands around her waist, finding the tiny pearl buttons along the front. I absentmindedly played with the bottom one, then pulled my mouth just far enough from hers to ask, “May I?”

  Her breaths panted out quickly, but her response took a few moments, my heart thundering a thousand beats with every passing second. I didn’t want her to pull away, but I also didn’t want her to feel pressured. Fuck, I wanted her to be on the same page as me; I wanted her to want this as much as I did. Finally she nodded, and then immediately pressed her mouth against mine again. I’d never been so good at unbuttoning blouses as I was in that moment, each one sliding through my fingers and falling open, obviously on my side.

  When her blouse slid off her shoulders and caught in the crook of her elbows, I managed to pull away, wanting to see her.

  Fuck me twice.

  “You can’t be real,” I whispered, unsure why I let the words slip out, but meaning them even so. Her perfect breasts sat in a sexy-as-fuck white lace bra. No deceiving pillows or pads, no pushing up, just her perfect fucking tits beautifully displayed. Through the delicate lace, her pert pink nipples were hard and looked as though they might ache from want.

  My hand cupped her over the lace, bringing the gorgeous mound to my mouth so I could taste the top swell, my thumb teasing the hard nub.

  She moaned again, her back arching into me, offering me more, asking me to take so much more. My fingers slipped beneath both straps and slowly slid them over her soft shoulders, the lace peeling away, both of her breasts rising and falling with the quickness of her breathing. Her arms were trapped by her shirt and the straps of her bra, but her eyes were begging me to continue. Her palms rested on the counter and she offered herself to me.

  I bent and lowered my mouth to hers, my tongue tracing her lips, her teeth, tentatively tangling with hers as my hands moved to cup her breasts. The warm, soft flesh fit perfectly in my hands, as I’d expected, because everything about Riley was perfect for me. I pulled my mouth from hers, but only to taste her nipple. I sucked one in and the sound she made, the moan mixed with a whimper, went straight to my dick.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered as I drew her farther into my mouth, my other hand still palming and teasing her. “This is crazy,” she continued, her neck bent back, chest still open and waiting for me. My mouth moved from her breast to leave openmouthed kisses all along her chest, up and over her collarbone, and up her neck, focusing then on the soft skin right below her ear.

  “Please,” I said between kisses, “please tell me I can take you to bed.” My hands still worked her breasts, but I wanted to feel all of her against all of me. I wanted to lay her out and focus on every part of her.

  “We can’t,” she panted. I groaned, torn between respecting her wishes and begging like a teenage boy. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately.

  “No,” I replied, pulling away from her, trying to keep my eyes north. I would respect her but that didn’t mean I would torture myself with the sight of her perfect naked breasts. “Don’t apologize.” I let out a large breath and pulled the straps of her bra up, watching the lace cover her again, hoping to fucking God I’d get a chance to taste them again.

  “It’s just, well, we only met last night.” I looked in her eyes as she pulled her shirt closed, now looking embarrassed and ashamed.

  “Hey.” I moved into her again, my hips forcing her knees to open wider, and brought my hands to each side of her neck. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing to be ashamed of. I understand, and I’m glad you stopped me.” I leaned in, hoping she wouldn’t stop me, and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. “Don’t hate me for saying this,” I said, then kissed her again. “But you have fantastic tits.” Lucky for me, she laughed.

  “Thanks,” she said, laughing and blushing at the same time.

  “I should be the one thanking you,” I said, watching as she shyly buttoned her shirt back up. I watched her beautiful skin disappear with every button, silently mourning each one. I didn’t miss it when her eyes darted down to my crotch, or the way her eyes widened when she saw the bulge of my erection there.

  “Um, no. I think you’re in worse shape than me.”

  I shrugged, trying to play off the uncomfortable way my cock was being strangled by my pants. “Nothing a cold shower won’t take care of.” Lies. As soon as I was alone, I’d be rubbing one out. Not even cold water would tame that erection.

  All put back together, she hopped off my counter, straightening her shirt, trying to erase the evidence that I’d been thoroughly in there just moments before. I reached out for her hand and pulled her against me. “Hey,” I said, tucking some hair behind her ear, “you all right?”

  She smiled up at me, perfect white teeth shining. “I’m fine. I’m just not used to everything moving so quickly.”

  “Me, either,” I said, letting my thumb move over her chin, liking the way her eyelids fluttered slightly as it did. “Can I see you again this week? Take you out for dinner?”

  The light faded from her eyes and the smile fell from her lips. “Um, I’m not sure, I’ll have to check my schedule.” She said the words and the
n she pulled away from me and suddenly everything felt different. “This week’s not really good for me.”

  “Okay,” I said, confused at the way she transformed from pliant in my hands to awkwardly trying to wiggle out of the conversation. “How about this weekend? I know you lost at Skee-Ball, but I’d still love to take you to a game.” I hoped a little joke would reel her back in.

  “This weekend’s no good either.” She was fidgeting and looked around until she spotted her purse on the coffee table in the living room. She beelined for it and I turned, watching her. “You know what? How about I e-mail you when I get some free time?”

  “You’ll e-mail me when you get some free time? Riley, come on….” My words trailed off as I was left utterly confused by the abrupt change in her.

  “It’s really bad timing right now. I just got my promotion, work is crazy.” She gave me a weak smile and headed for the door. She was literally rushing to get away from me.

  “Riley, wait. I’ll drive you home.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll Uber it.”

  “Jesus, you were just topless in my kitchen. I’ll fucking drive you home.” I didn’t mean to swear, but she was acting like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough, like nothing had happened between us.

  “Cam, it’s fine. I promise. I use Uber all the time.”

  “Can we talk about this?” I stepped toward her, trying to come between her and the door.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she replied, giving me a fake smile.

  “Riley,” I pleaded, “I’m sorry. If I pushed you too far, or made you feel like we needed to—”

  “No, Cam, really. Everything’s fine. I need to go.”

  I realized in that moment, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I had to let her go. No matter how much more I wanted from her, I wasn’t going to keep a woman in my home against her will. I pushed my hands into my pockets and took a step back from the door. She moved to open it and I watched her go, feeling helpless and confused. Just before the door closed, she turned and looked back at me. I wanted to ask her to wait, to stay, to talk to me and explain what I’d done wrong, what she was running from, give me a chance to apologize at least. But I said nothing and she didn’t either. She closed the door with something that looked like regret written across her face, and I wondered if I’d ever see her again.