Chapter 5

5

Lucy

It’s said that passion dies out the longer people stay together. Personally, I say, fuck that . Cam and I have been a couple since we were fifteen, and our physical need for each other has only grown.

Cam had barely put the car in park before I was stripping out of my clothes, preparing myself for whatever he was about to give me. And boy, did he give it to me. Against the front door, on the living room floor, the couch, the bathroom counter, and finally our bedroom. We didn’t make it to the actual bed, just the floor, where we currently lie in a heap of sweat and post-orgasm bliss.

Child-free sex is the best sex, and I will die a thousand deaths on that hill.

“I can’t feel my legs,” I murmur.

Beside me, Cameron chuckles, then leans up on his elbow so he can look down at me. He smiles, his eyes softening as he takes in my appearance. I will never, ever get used to the way he looks at me. The way he worships and reveres me, even when I don’t feel worthy of it. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his thumb across my heated cheek. “God, I needed that. Thank you.”

“No, no, no,” I sigh out. “Thank you .”

His phone dings with a text, and he whips his head up, looking around. “Where the fuck is my phone?”

I try to think back to when he removed his jeans completely. Sometime between the front door and the couch. “I think it’s in the living room.”

He kisses me once before standing, giving me a full view of his perfect, naked ass and his bare back—still showcasing the marks my fingernails left behind. I close my eyes, remembering the way his body felt on top of mine. The way his biceps bulged beneath my touch every time he thrust into me, slowly at first, and then… “Babe!” I call out. “You got some juice left for round two?”

Cameron rushes in, his eyes wide, jeans back on. Boo. “No time,” he huffs out, tapping away on his phone.

I stifle my disappointment, but don’t make a move to get up. I’m way too exhausted. Thankfully, my husband knows me well, and he’s already opening the dresser drawer to get me a bra and underwear.

“That was Jake,” he tells me. “They’ll be here in five, but he said they might not stay long because Micky’s not feeling great.”

I pop my head up just enough to watch him move to the closet. “She’s sick?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Ask him.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Why ?”

“Because it’s weird.”

I scoff. “What’s weird?”

“Men don’t ask for details.”

I sit up, confused. “What do you mean, men don’t ask for details? ”

He’s in our closet now, slipping on a shirt before rifling through a bag in the corner of the closet floor. “We just don’t talk about shit. You know Will at work?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He got married a few months ago.”

My eyes narrow. “Did we not get invited to the wedding?”

“I guess not.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t care. Didn’t ask. Anyway, they got annulled like two weeks later.”

“ Why ?”

“Don’t know. Because men don’t ask for details .” He turns to me, holding up something he clearly purchased without my knowledge. “Put this on.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hands between us, still trying to wrap my head around everything. I don’t know what I’m confused about the most. The part where a guy he works with got married and unmarried in the space of two weeks or the giant grin on his face as he pulls a bush costume out of its plastic wrapping. “Yeah… I’m going to need details,” I mumble.

“Whatever. Just put this on first.”

I roll my eyes, but don’t argue. I simply find something suitable to wear under the costume and don’t ask questions. Besides, I love it when Cameron gets excited like this. When he gets to let loose and act like the carefree boy I fell in love with and not always be the man constantly worried about whether he’s doing enough to take care of his family.

“Fits perfectly,” I say, viewing my reflection in the mirror. I look ridiculous, covered head to toe in leaves, but the pure joy on Cam’s face makes it worth it.

Cam settles his hands on my waist. “Goddamn, you’re sexy.”

I bust out a giggle and turn in his arms. “I’m far from it, but I’m glad you think so.”

His grin only gets wider as he takes my hand, leads me to the laundry, where an array of guns awaits us. Not real ones, obviously, but a paintball gun, BB gun, and the biggest, baddest water pistol I’ve ever seen. I sniff, trying to find the source of the putrid scent wafting through the air. Then I smell the end of the water pistol. “Tuna brine?” I ask.

He pats the top of my head. “I love how well you know me.” Then he reaches into the laundry sink for a tiny water pistol and hands it to me. “This one is yours.”

It fits in the palm of my hand. “What the fuck am I going to do with this?”

“Go hide in the bushes,” he’s quick to say, suddenly in a rush. “They’ll be here any second.” He practically pushes me out of the room, saying, “I’ll be up on the roof.”

I give him a cheesy thumbs-up. “Got it.”

“Who’s your target, baby?” he asks.

Shrugging, I assume, “Micky?”

He nods, then pulls a leaf off me and pockets it. “For good luck.”

“You’re not going to war!” I laugh out.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. “Remember last year when you had to order and apply fake eyebrows for me because Jake had the boys hold me down so he could wax them right off my face? Yeah, baby, it’s fucking war.”