13. Riley

thirteen

Riley

I regretted texting Cam as soon as I'd sent the last one. He wasn't my boyfriend. I had barely known him for a full week. The only person in this place I could trust, that was looking out for me was me.

Archer probably had some other angle, because lord knew he'd not helped me out when I needed it most. Now, I was being jerked around by a dead man. I was tired. I had a little money, but it wasn't enough to rebuild my life, which meant I had to stay until the will was read. But I couldn't wait it out in this house with all of them. Not after—I swallowed hard and wiped my clammy palms on my jeans.

"What's up?" Cam ducked into my room. His eyes were even more bloodshot, his golden lashes heavy on sleepy lids.

The effect was so incredibly sexy I had to focus on a chip in the paint over his shoulder just to form words that made sense. Why was he cuter now that I'd kissed him?

"I—so, I know y'all are going to need to be in and out of here today. Since there was a break in and…" And none of you are calling the cops, like normal people would . "… I'm going to rent a room for a few days."

In the short time I'd known him, I'd learned that he had one hell of a poker face. But he was tired, and I'd spent enough time studying him to see the subtle crinkle at the corners of his eyes and the tightness in his lips when he smiled.

"You don't need to do that." He fell onto my bed, folding his arms behind his head and stretching out one long leg. He kept the other on the ground.

The pillows would probably smell like him when I laid there later. The thought made me want to snuggle into them and wrap myself in his scent. I turned away and busied myself putting clean clothes back in my suitcase. "I'm not going to feel comfortable here."

"Go up to my place."

I shot him a no way in hell glance over my shoulder.

His throaty chuckle almost undid me and I gripped the side of my bag to keep from trembling with…what? Desire? Absolutely not. No way.

But…

"It was a kiss, princess. I'm not trying to climb into your panties." The room was quiet for a beat. "Unless you want me to."

"Oh, for the love of God." I smacked my suitcase shut and spun. "Can you be serious at all? I'm freaked and…" I fought with the vulnerability and sighed. "Preacher creeps me out."

The poker face cracked hard. His eyelids lowered so his eyes disappeared in the shadows of his lashes. "I'm worn the fuck out. You want a hotel, fine. Give me ten minutes to get some shit and I'll go with you. But I'm not leaving you alone."

When I stiffened, he sat up and shook his head, running his hands through his hair and speaking in low, almost inaudible syllables. "While you're here, I want you close. Because I don't trust him either."

Our gazes met, held, and I swallowed back the cold fingers of fear that crept up from my core. "Okay."

"I need a shower." He held his hands out, palms up. "No more flirting. Let's just crash. You can go up in a minute when I kick everyone out. Puck and Jester will be the only ones to come back. By then, you'll be upstairs."

What he didn't say was no one would think I was having sex with him. My reputation remained intact. Why'd he have to go and be honorable?

I followed Cam up the stairs, maintaining a safe distance, and busied myself looking anywhere but at him as he opened the door and held it for me. The last time we'd been on these stairs seemed like forever ago. I felt like a different person.

Had one kiss changed me that much?

His apartment was bisected into two main rooms. I stood in the first. The front half was the living area. In the back, an open doorway caught my gaze.

His room.

If Cam lounging on the bed I'd slept in made me feel all warm and breathy, glancing at his bedroom snatched the oxygen from my lungs.

"You can put your shit in there." He gestured to his room as he shrugged out of his cut and hung it on the back of a dark wood chair at a table in one corner. The pistol at his back flashed as his shirt lifted with the motion.

That was a startling reminder of why I was up here. The night before, two women had been in here doing—I didn't want to think of it, or deal with the jealousy that memory churned up.

"This is fine." I dropped my bag down on the overstuffed gray couch and crinkled my nose at his room.

He turned, leaned a hip on the table, and emptied his pockets. The brief glance he gave me glinted with amusement. "The bed is cleaner."

I made a face. "Excuse me?"

"You're thinking about last night. Trust me, darlin, you'll be the first woman in that room in a long time." He gave a half laugh and pointed at the couch. "Can't say that about the couch."

"Oh my God." I snatched up my bag and stomped to his room.

Crossing the threshold was like stepping into a different world. This was his place, a sanctuary. Dark blackout curtains held most of the Nevada sun at bay. What seeped in landed on pale walls with dark wooden floors. Each wall was adorned with at least one framed artistic shot of motorcycles or the desert.

One wall held a large flat screen television, and another two doors. One door stood open, revealing a tidy bathroom with a glass shower.

The bed was massive, with a dark wooden headboard. Surprisingly, this too was tidy. The black comforter was pulled tight, and the top edge folded back to reveal light pillows.

He stepped in behind me, so close his chest brushed against my back. The touch was almost non-existent, and my body responded as if he'd caressed me all the way down.

It was just a kiss, Riley. Damn.

On the far side of the bed was an upholstered chair. He took the small bag of clothes I'd brought up, put it on the chair, before he put his pistol and his phone on the modern, dark dresser trimmed in something metallic. Silver, maybe. "More pillows in the closet, if you want them."

The room was flooded with light from the bathroom as he stepped in and pulled off his shirt. I caught a glimpse of corded muscle and a tattoo across his shoulders before the door shut behind him.

His closet was as tidy as the rest of the room. I half expected to see his shirts organized by color, but they weren't. They hung to the right, his pants to the left. I pulled two pillows from a shelf and used them to make a barrier down the center of the bed.

I curled on the other half, listening as the water ran in the other room. Steam crawled under the door, bringing with it a tangy, citrus scent of a popular bar soap. One I'd held to my nose and inhaled as a kid. The smell soothed me then and did so now.

But I couldn't sleep. My entire body twitched and buzzed like every nerve was fighting against a weariness that sank me deeper into the mattress. Cam's bed was more comfortable than the one in Archer's guest room.

At least, that's what I told myself when I snuggled against his pillow and inhaled. The entire room smelled clean, almost sterile. Except the pillows. They smelled of Cam. Faint hint of woodsy tobacco, covered with something crisp and fresh—much like he'd tasted.

My stomach tightened, and my body broke out in a full-fledged hum that made it hard to shut my eyes. I might spend a few hours here, on Cam's bed, but I wasn't sleeping. Not like this.

I sat up, twisted so that my back popped and muscles relaxed. My entire life had been careful. I wasn't the sort of kid that ran down the steps headlong into the yard. I'd stayed with my hand on the rail, taking each stair carefully.

Life was a steady list of doing things I was supposed to, keeping my life as boring and safe as possible. Until Mom died. Every day since had been a struggle to survive. In only a few months I'd been so tired it hurt, so hungry I was sick, and so cold I couldn't stop shaking.

There were no friends to help pick me up off the ground. Those I'd had disappeared when Mom got sick—or maybe that had been my fault. I'd retreated, cared for her, felt sorry for myself.

Coming up here with Cam was out of character. I should have gone to a hotel. There was enough money. And yet…I wanted to make the bad decision. If only partially to be like the two women I'd interrupted him with.

The bathroom door opened before I'd laid back down. I could ignore him, and that he'd went in there without other clothes. Or…I could turn and…

I did and was rewarded with Cam in only a towel, wet hair tousled across his forehead. Beads of water traveled from the center point of his collarbone, down his chest, past his navel, to gather in the line of blond hair that disappeared beneath the towel slung low on his hips.

Damn.

Half gaping at him, I jerked my chin up and met his eyes. Heavy lidded again, the way they did when he knew exactly what I was thinking. He pushed his hair back from his face and winked before grabbing a pair of boxer briefs from the dresser.

He held my gaze in the dresser mirror for a split second. His slow sexual grin spoke to parts of me that really liked it.

I looked away, my face and chest hot, as he dropped the towel. There was only so much I could take. I wasn't prepared for that level of intimacy…not when I'd barely done more than make out with anyone.

And he had done so much more.

I dropped back to the bed with a huff, his chuckle teasing me. "Darlin, you keep it up and I'm going to test out this innocent act."

What was he talking about? My gaze narrowed as I caught his. Pretty blue eyes, bloodshot and half opened as he approached the bed. Something lingered there that would be demanding and take from me until I couldn't give anything else. Damn, how I wanted it to.

That feeling shocked me enough I swallowed any reply as he pulled the sheets down and climbed in. The way his muscles bunched and moved drew my gaze, made my body tense. Simple movements shouldn't be sexy. I looked away before I focused on the bulge at his groin.

I didn't look at him until the bed stilled. When I peaked, I was thankful I'd pulled a throw blanket over me. I don't think I could have handled being under the same sheet that covered his legs.

He lay sprawled on his back, much like he had on my bed. Only with one arm folded behind his head this time. The other was across his chest. Through the curtain of my lashes, I studied him.

Cam opened one eye and covered a yawn with the back of his hand. "Get some sleep, darlin."

"I will." And I pretended to for a while, before curiosity got the better of me.

His eyes were closed, his breathing steady and even, and with each rise of his bare chest, his body relaxed a little more. I didn't shut my eyes completely until he rolled against my pillow wall and tucked one against his chest, snoring ever so gently.

Only then did the buzzing in my muscles stop. The rumble of motorcycles shocked me from the verge of sleep once when Puck and Jester came back. After that, I slept and dreamed of what a man who kissed like Cam Savage could do with the rest of his body.