Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Athena

My heart is pounding, and I'm panicked, desperate to run the fuck out of here.

But my kitten is sleeping, and Cam is tense as a slab of concrete and…

I need him to hear this too.

Because…I'm falling for him.

As dangerous and stupid and likely as that is to blow up in my face. I can't let him go, can't push my feelings down, can't pretend there's nothing between us.

We have something.

I can't cut the ties between us, not even if I wanted to.

"I've known the Jacksons for ten years," I say. "I've known Lex for longer, and they're…well, they're my family, so much more than my own parents ever were. So, if there's ever anyone in my life I wouldn't hurt, wouldn't fuck over, would do anything to protect it's the Jacksons—Cam included."

"So, it's brotherly affection then?" Rome asks, and I don't miss that his eyes are sharp.

Waiting for me to fuck up.

I can't.

This is too important.

Cam is too important.

"You know it's not," I say quietly.

"I do?"

I lift a brow. "You do ." I shift a little closer to Cam, set my hand on his thigh. "But more importantly, Cam knows that."

Rome tilts his head to the side and studies me closely.

Then one half of his mouth curves as he raises his fist between us for me to bump. "I like you, Ats."

"Good," I say, reaching forward to tap his knuckles with mine. I smirk at him and am only half-joking when I add, "Me too."

Half because…

I like the person I am with Cam Jackson.

"Meow!"

Cam leans in and scratches my kitten's head. "Relax, Cookie, she hasn't forgotten you," he murmurs, running his knuckles down along the outside of my arm, making me completely aware that he hasn't forgotten me either.

Cupcake.

Cookie.

Yeah, that's perfect.

Cookie stretches in my arms, his whiskers tickling me as he sniffs at my nose. And when his rough tongue laps over the tip, I laugh, gaze sliding to the side?—

Breath hitching when I see Cam watching.

"Beautiful," he whispers and my heart thuds hard, feelings rippling through me—too big, too beautiful, too wonderful.

"Cam, I?—"

"Excuse me!"

I jerk back, not having realized I was leaning in to Cam, having completely forgotten we're in a public place.

With an audience.

One of whom is clamping a hand to her mouth, jumping to her feet, and running away.

Rome gets up and follows her, and I don't miss that Cam watches him go, don't miss the grief he quickly banks.

He'll be an excellent father.

I know it.

Just like I know that he knows family isn't just genetics.

But I can't help him with what he lost, can't make that better?—

"Meow!"

My heart rolls over in my chest as I look down at Cookie.

I still.

Or maybe I can help him see that.

With Cat Dad duties.

He tiptoes down the hall and into my kitchen, smile wide, but expression tired. "He's finally asleep."

I grin and set the plate down in the sink, the warm water running over my hands, sweeping suds and food remnants down the drain..

We're at my house, having eaten a delicious meal that Cam cooked for us, and, as predicted, Cookie has us both wrapped around his adorable tiny toe beans.

On Chrissy's advice, he doesn't have full reign of the house yet, so we've been taking turns "putting him to bed"—or really, containing him in my bathroom until he's a little more comfortable with where the litter box and water bowl and other cat accoutrements are.

"I told you I'd get the dishes," he says, coming over to the sink, wrapping his arms around my middle, and pressing a kiss to my nape.

"And I told you I'd get them," I reply tartly.

He nips at the shell of my ear. "Stubborn."

"Jackson meet Phillips."

He chuckles as I finish up with the last dish, setting it in the drying rack and turning to face him.

"Your version of pot meet kettle?"

"Does it not fit?" I ask archly.

"Of course it does." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "But I still would have done the dishes, cupcake."

"I know you would have." I turn back to the counter, reach for a towel. "Which is why I did them."

Silence…then a swat to my ass.

I squeak.

"And now you're going to pay the price for your insolence."

"With orgasms?" I ask eagerly, glancing over my shoulder.

He narrows his eyes, but humor is dancing in the hazel depths. "I'm not sure you deserve them now."

Them .

Mischief wells up in my belly and even though my fingers are on the towel, I let it go…

And grab the nozzle to the faucet instead.

One flick with my other hand has the water on full blast. One pull has the nozzle free, the stream spraying over my hands.

And one… spin has that water shooting in Cam's direction.

It splatters against his chest—and ho, mama—the effect that has on the skintight white fabric of his tee nearly sends me to my knees. I resist the urge, not wanting to miss a moment, especially when it's turning see-through, when the water is spreading down his abdomen, along the waistband of his sweats.

Oh sweet baby Jesus, that's even better.

Plastering the material against his groin, outlining the rigid edge of his erection, sticking the material to his strong thighs?—

"What the fuck, cupcake?" he asks, and I manage to tear my gaze away from his face, from the shock in his expression. He grabs the nozzle and starts to reach past me, but I don't let him have it. In fact, I point it back at him, get another glimpse of slick, skintight fabric.

His mouth drops open. "What the hell are you doing?"

I grin, sweep my free hand over his stomach.

Now that's a sight.

He cups a hand under my chin, tilts my face up. "What the fuck?"

Instead of answering, I point it in his direction again?—

And I see the moment he processes the chaos I've created, that I've embraced, that I'm enjoying?—

Or rather I feel it.

He rips the nozzle out of my grip…

And points it in my direction.

Warm water splatters across my chest, and I gasp in surprise. I shouldn't be taken aback. I created this. I want this, but the sudden sensation of warm liquid and taut fabric and?—

"Oh God," I moan slipping slightly as I lean back against the counter, gripping the edge tightly as Cam bends and takes one of my nipples in his mouth, the heat and wet and layers of fabric the most acute of sensations.

He sucks as he allows the water to pour down my torso, soaking into my tank top, into my pajama bottoms, my underwear.

He groans and suddenly I'm on the counter next to the sink—water and a hard body on my front, the soft damp material of the towel and a counter that's slick enough for our bodies to slide together, that he has to clamp an arm around me so I don't fall beneath me.

Heat and cool. Hard and soft. Fingers and lips and?—

My pants are yanked down.

That hot water is directed between my legs.

"Cam!" I cry.

"Oh no, cupcake," he murmurs, nipping at the underside of my jaw, "you started this war…"

I gasp as his fingers join in with the spray of water.

"…and now you're going to finish."