But now he wanted her. This woman. Not the girl he’d been missing for the past ten years, not the woman he’d run into here and there over the years when visiting Appleby, not the woman he’d thought he was sparring with in the offices at Hot Cakes. This woman.
The one he’d gotten to know better and watched grow and who now stood in front of him naked. Literally, but also figuratively. She was letting him in again and this time there was even more on the line than their parents finding out about them back in high school and making them break up.
It would have felt like the end of the world. It had felt that way when it had ended. But what they’d lost were stolen kisses and some messing around in the dark and some laughter and, yes, friendship. But kid friendship.
Now… if they messed this up it was so much more.
Now their hearts and their futures were wrapped up in all of this.
Now they really would lose a true friendship. With each other.
Yeah. That was true.
But if they did this… they could have all of this forever.
“You didn’t have panties on? This whole time?” he asked, his voice gruff, but trying to lighten the mood. Trying to make things playful and dirty. Because if he didn’t, he was going to propose to her and that might have been too much.
She also didn’t have a bra on so when she propped her hands on her hips, he could see everything.
Every-fucking-thing.
“I wore panties to your mother’s house for dinner with your family and my grandmother, of course,” she said, one eyebrow up. “I took them off upstairs when I brushed my teeth.”
He smirked. She’d been classy enough to have underwear on while having dinner with their families. Of course she had. Whitney Lancaster wouldn’t go to a family dinner without underwear on.
But she’d also taken them off—and brushed her teeth—before coming back down here to talk to him in the kitchen while he made cookies. Gee, what had she thought might happen? Maybe the take your clothes off hadn’t just been his idea. Maybe she’d been on her way to seduce him. He really liked that thought.
Proposing might have been too much tonight.
But maybe not.
“Well, maybe you’re more prepared than I am here,” he said. “I had no idea we were having pantyless kitchen time tonight.”
She came forward, her hips swaying, her breasts bouncing softly, completely distracting him as she moved.
“You had no idea that we were having pantyless kitchen time tonight?” she asked, stopping right in front of him.
Yes, he very much loved this more confident side of Whitney.
“I might have hoped for pantyless time tonight,” he said. “But the room doesn’t really matter.”
She reached for the bowl of cookie dough and scooped up a spoonful, lifting it to her mouth and then sucked it from her finger.
Cam’s body heated and hardened.
She looked up at him. “So you have underwear on under those jeans?”
“I do.”
“Guess that makes me the optimist here.”
“Makes me damned grateful.”
She smiled. “Good.”
“Can you do that thing with the cookie dough again?” he asked.
She took another dab on her fingertip and lifted it to her lips, but he caught her wrist at the last moment and brought it to his mouth. He slid it past his lips, over his tongue, then closed around it and sucked.
Her eyes darkened and she swallowed hard.
“I was actually going to bake these for you,” he said.
“Let’s see if there’s any left for that.” She took his hand, dipped his finger into the dough and lifted it to her lips, licking, then sucking as he had.
The feel of her hot, wet mouth around his finger made his cock ache and press insistently against his zipper. He wanted her mouth around his cock. She could coat it in cookie dough if she wanted to. He didn’t care if he could get her lips around him.
“Whit—”
She dipped more cookie dough out of the bowl and then painted it over one nipple.
Or they could do this.
Without a word, he bent his knees, placed a hand on her back to hold her steady, and licked the dough off her nipple, sucking to be sure it was completely clean.
Her hand cupped the back of his head as she arched closer. “Oh my…Cam.”
He wanted to hear a lot more of that. “Fuck.” He straightened and reached for the bowl.
She reached for his pants.
He let her.
She unzipped his jeans, shoving them and his boxers just low enough to free his erection. She sucked in a quick breath as she took in the sight, then circled him with her hand.
Cam gripped the counter and locked his knees as lust and heat coursed through him. “Whitney,” he said, his jaw tight. “Babe.”
She stroked up and down his length, not taking her eyes from the action, or saying a thing.
“Whit.”
“Just give me a minute,” she told him.
He huffed out a laugh, then a groan as she squeezed and stroked.
“I need more tattoos,” she said, suddenly, pulling her hand from his cock and sliding both palms under his shirt. She pushed the cotton up his torso and he lifted his arms, letting her strip it up over his head. When she got it higher than she could reach, he grabbed the shirt and pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Yes,” she said softly, almost reverently, as she slid her palms back down his body, over his shoulders, chest, and down his sides.
He watched her looking at him. She ran her hands over his tattoos, her fingertips tracking the lines, her eyes studying them all. She had him turn so she could see them all. His ink covered one arm from shoulder to wrist, his other arm elbow to wrist, his left shoulder blade, his right ribs, and his right abs.
“This is all so beautiful. You’ll have to tell me what they all mean.”
“Okay.” His voice was thick. He would do this however
