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96harmony96 · 1 year

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Chapter 12

Lauren and I arrived back in Manhattan just before midnight on Sunday. We’d spent the previous night sleeping apart, but most of the day together in the master bed. Kissing and touching. Laughing and whispering.

By silent agreement we didn’t talk about painful things during the rest of our time away. We didn’t turn on the television or radio, because it seemed wrong to share our time with anyone. We walked on the beach again. We made long, slow, lazy love on the third-story deck. We played cards and she won every hand. We recharged and reminded ourselves that what we’d found with each other was worth fighting for.

It was the most perfect day of my life.

We returned to my apartment when we got back into the city. Lauren unlocked the door for us with the key I’d given her, and we entered the darkened space as quietly as possible so that we didn’t wake Cary. Lauren gave me one of her soul-melting kisses good night and headed to the guest room, and I crawled into my lonely bed without her. Missing her. I wondered how long we’d be sleeping apart from each other. Months? Years?

Hating to think of it, I closed my eyes and started to drift.

The light flicked on.

“Camila. Get up.” Lauren strode into the room and straight to my dresser, digging through my clothes.

I blinked at her, noting that she’d changed into slacks and a button-down dress shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cary,” she said grimly. “He’s in the hospital.”

* * *

A cab was waiting for us at the curb when we left my apartment building. Lauren ushered me in, then slid in beside me.

The cab seemed to pull away very slowly. Everything seemed to be moving slowly.

I clutched at Lauren’s sleeve. “What happened?”

“He was attacked Friday night.”

“How do you know?”

“Your mother and Stanton both left messages on my cell phone.”

“My mother . . . ?” I looked at her blankly. “Why didn’t she . . . ?”

No, she couldn’t call me. I hadn’t had my phone. Guilt and worry drowned me, making it hard to breathe.

“Camila.” She put her arm around my shoulders, urging me to rest my head against her. “Don’t worry until we know more.”

“It’s been days, Lauren. And I wasn’t here.”

Tears poured down my face and wouldn’t stop, even after we arrived at the hospital. I barely registered the exterior of the building, my attention dulled by the hard-driving anxiety pounding through me. I thanked God for Lauren, who was so calm and in control. A staff member provided the number of Cary’s room, but his helpfulness ended there. Lauren made a few middle-of-the-night phone calls that got me access to see Cary, even though it was well outside visiting hours. Lauren had been a very generous benefactor at times and that wasn’t easily dismissed or forgotten.

When I stepped into Cary’s private room and saw him, my heart shattered so completely, my knees went weak. Only Lauren kept me from falling. The man I thought of as my brother, the best friend I’d ever had or ever would have, lay silent and unmoving in the bed. His head was bandaged and his eyes blackened. One of his arms was stuck with intravenous lines, while the other was in a cast. I wouldn’t have recognized him, if I hadn’t known who he was.

Flowers covered every flat surface, cheerful and colorful bouquets. There were balloons, too, and a few cards. I knew some would be from my mother and Stanton, who were certainly paying for Cary’s care as well.

We were his family. And everyone had been there for him but me.

Lauren led me closer, her arm tight around my waist to hold me up. I was sobbing, the tears flowing thick and hot. It was everything I could do to remain silent.

Still, Cary must have heard me or sensed me. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. It took him a minute to find me. When he did, he blinked a few times, and then tears started rolling down his temples.

“Cary.” I rushed to him and slipped my hand in his. “I’m here.”

He gripped me so tightly, it was painful. “Camila.”

“I’m sorry I took so long. I didn’t have my phone. I had no idea. I would’ve been here if I’d known.”

“S’okay. You’re here now.” His throat worked on a swallow. “God . . . everything hurts.”

“I’ll get a nurse,” Lauren said, running her hand down my back before slipping silently out of the room.

I saw a small pitcher and cup with straw on the rolling tray table. “Are you thirsty?”

“Very.”

“Can I sit you up? Or no?” I was afraid to do anything to cause him pain.

“Yeah.”

Using the remote lying near his hand, I raised the top part of the bed so that he was reclined. Then I brought the straw to his lips and watched him drink greedily.

He relaxed with a sigh. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, baby girl.”

“What the hell happened?” I set the empty cup down and grabbed his hand again.

“Fuck if I know.” His voice was weak, almost a whisper. “Got jumped. With a bat.”

“With a bat?” Just the thought made me physically ill. The brutality of it. The violence . . . “Was he insane?”

“Of course,” he snapped, a deep line of pain between his brows.

I backed up a half step. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. Shit. I’m—” His eyes closed. “I’m exhausted.”

Just then the nurse came in wearing scrubs decorated with cartoon tongue depressors and animated stethoscopes. She was young and pretty, with dark hair and sloe eyes. She checked Cary over, took his blood pressure, then pressed the button on a remote wrapped around the guardrail.

“You can self-administer every thirty minutes for pain,” she told him. “Just press this button. It won’t dispense a dose if it’s not time, so you don’t have to worry about pressing it too often.”

“Once is too often,” he muttered, looking at me.

I understood his reluctance; he had an addictive personality. He’d traveled a short ways down the junkie road before I kicked some sense into him.

But it was a relief to see the lines of pain on his forehead smooth out and his breathing settle into a deeper rhythm.

The nurse looked at me. “He needs his rest. You should come back during visiting hours.”

Cary looked at me desperately. “Don’t go.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Lauren said, reentering the room. “I’ve arranged to have a cot brought in tonight.”

I didn’t think it was possible to love Lauren more than I already did, but she somehow kept finding ways to prove me wrong.

The nurse smiled shyly at Lauren.

“Cary could use more water,” I told her, watching her pull her gaze reluctantly away from my girlfriend to look at me.

She grabbed the pitcher and left the room.

Lauren stepped closer to the bed and spoke to Cary. “Tell me what happened.”

Cary sighed. “Trey and I went out Friday, but he had to bail early. I walked him out to grab a cab, but it was nuts right in front of the club, so we went around the corner. He’d just taken off when I got nailed in the back of the head. Took me straight down and whaled on me a few times. Never got a chance to defend myself.”

My hands began to shake, and Cary’s thumb rubbed soothingly over the back.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Teaches me. Don’t stick my dick in the wrong chick.”

“What?”

I watched Cary’s eyes drift shut, and a moment later it was clear he was sleeping. I glanced helplessly across the bed at Lauren.

“I’ll look into it,” she said. “Step out with me for a minute.”

I followed her, my gaze repeatedly turning back to Cary. When the door closed behind us, I said, “God, Lauren. He looks terrible.”

“He got knocked around good,” she said grimly. “He’s got a skull fracture, a nasty concussion, three cracked ribs, and a broken arm.”

The list of injuries was horribly painful to listen to. “I don’t understand why someone would do this.”

She pulled me close and pressed her lips to my forehead. “The doctor said it’s possible Cary will be allowed to leave in a day or two, so I’ll make arrangements for home care. I’ll also let your work know you won’t be coming in.”

“Cary’s agency needs to know.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you.” I hugged her hard. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re never going to find out.”

* * *

My mother woke me at nine the next morning, gliding fretfully into Cary’s room as soon as visiting hours began. She pulled me out to the hallway, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate area. It was early, but she looked amazing in eye-catching red-soled Louboutins and an ivory sleeveless sheath dress.

“Camila. I can’t believe you went the entire weekend without your cell phone! What were you thinking? What if there had been an emergency?”

“There was an emergency.”

“Exactly!” She threw up one hand, since the other arm had her clutch tucked beneath it. “No one could get hold of you or Lauren. She left a message saying that she was taking you away for the weekend, but no one knew where you were. I can’t believe she was so irresponsible! What was she thinking?”

“Thank you,” I interjectedes because she was getting wound up and repeating herself, “for taking care of Cary. It means a lot to me.”

“Well, of course.” My mother took it down a notch. “We love him, too, you know. I’m devastated this happened.”

Her lower lip trembled and she dug in her bag for her ever-ready handkerchief.

“Are the police investigating?” I asked.

“Yes, of course, but I don’t how much good it will do.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I love Cary dearly, but he’s a tramp. I doubt he can recall all the women and men he’s been with. Remember the charity auction you attended with Lauren? When I bought you that stunning red dress?”

“Yes.” I’d never forget it. It was the night Lauren and I first made love.

“I’m certain Cary slept with a blonde he danced with that night—while they were there! They disappeared and when they came back . . . Well, I know what a satisfied man looks like. I would be surprised if he knew her name.”

I remembered what Cary had said before he fell asleep. “You think this attack has something to do with someone he slept with?”

My mother blinked at me, seeming to remember that I didn’t know anything. “Cary was told to keep his hands off ‘her’—whoever ‘her’ is. The detectives will be coming back later today to try to pull some names out of him.”

“Jesus.” I scrubbed at my eyes, needing my face wash badly and a cup of coffee even more. “They need to talk to Tatiana Cherlin.”

“Who’s that?”

“Someone Cary’s been seeing. I think she’d get a kick out of something like this. Cary’s boyfriend caught them together and she ate it up with a spoon. She loved being the cause of the drama.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck, then realized the tingle I felt was for another reason entirely. I looked over my shoulder and saw Lauren approaching, her long legs closing the distance between us with that measured stride. Dressed for work in a suit, with a large cup of coffee in one hand and a small black bag in the other, she was exactly what I needed at just the moment I needed her.

“Excuse me.” I walked toward Lauren and straight into her arms.

“Hey,” she greeted me, with her lips in my hair. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s awful. And senseless.” My eyes burned. “He didn’t need another disaster in his life. He’s had more than his share.”

“So have you, and you’re suffering along with him.”

“And you’re doing the same with me.” I pushed up onto my tiptoes and kissed her jaw, then stepped back. “Thank you.”

She handed me the coffee. “I brought some things for you—a change of clothes, your cell and tablet, bathroom stuff.”

I knew her thoughtfulness had to come at a price—literally. After a weekend away, she should be digging her way out of a small mountain of work worth millions, not running around taking care of me. “God. I love you.”

“Camila!” My mother’s startled exclamation made me wince. She advocated withholding the words I love you until the wedding night.

“Sorry, Mom. Can’t help it.”

Lauren brushed coffee-warmed fingertips down my cheek.

“Lauren,” my mother began, coming up right beside us, “you should know better than to take Camila away without any means of calling for help. You do know better.”

She was clearly referring to my past. I wasn��t sure why she thought I was so delicate that I couldn’t function on my own. She was far more fragile.

I shot a sympathetic glance Lauren’s way.

She held out the bag she’d brought for me, the calm and confident look on her face conveying her total comfort in dealing with my mother. So I left her to it. I didn’t have it in me to deal with her until I’d caffeinated myself.

I slipped back into Cary’s room and found him awake. Just the sight of him made the tears well and my throat close up tight. He was such a strong and vibrant man, so full of life and mischief. It was the worst pain to see him looking so broken.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Quit the waterworks every time you see me. Makes me feel like I’m gonna die or something.”

Hell. He was right. My tears didn’t do him any good. Instead, what little relief they gave me just put more of the burden on him. I needed to be a better friend than that.

“I can’t help it,” I said, sniffling. “It sucks. Someone beat me to it and kicked your ass before I could.”

“Is that right?” His scowl faded. “What’d I do now?”

“You didn’t tell me about Brett and Six-Ninths.”

“Oh yeah . . .” A bit of his old sparkle came back into his eyes. “How’d he look?”

“Good. Really good.” Very hot, but I kept that thought to myself. “Although right now, he might not look much better than you.”

I told him about the kiss and the resulting fight.

“Jauregui threw down, huh?” Cary shook his head, then winced and stopped. “Taking on Brett took guts—he’s a barroom brawler who loves a good fight.”

“And Lauren is a trained mixed martial artist.” I began digging through the bag Lauren had brought. “Why didn’t you tell me Captive Soul had signed with a major label?”

“Because you didn’t need to fall into that hole again. There are girls who can date rock stars; you’re not one of them. All that time on the road, all those groupies . . . You’d drive yourself and him insane.”

I shot him a look. “I’m in total agreement with you. But I’m insulted that you’d think I’d run back to him just because he made it big.”

“That’s not why. I didn’t want you to hear their first single if it could be helped.”

“‘Golden’?”

“Yeah . . .” He studied me as I headed toward the bathroom. “What’d you think of it?”

“It’s better than a song titled ‘Tapped That.’”

“Ha!” He waited until I came out again with my face washed and hair brushed. “So . . . you kissed him.”

“That’s the beginning and end of that story,” I said dryly. “Have you talked to Trey since Friday?”

“No. They’ve got my phone somewhere. My wallet, too, I’m guessing. When I came to, I was here, wearing this”—he pinched at his hospital gown—“freakin’ thing.”

“I’ll get your stuff for you.” I dumped my toiletries back in the bag, then went to sit in the chair beside him with my coffee in hand. “Lauren’s making arrangements to get you home with a private nurse.”

“Ooh . . . that’s a fantasy of mine. Can you make sure the nurse is hot? And single?”

My brows rose. Inside, though, I was so relieved to see him looking and sounding more like himself. “You’re obviously feeling better, if you’re feeling frisky. How did things go with Trey?”

“Good.” He sighed. “I’d worried that the party wouldn’t be his scene. I forgot that he knew a lot of the people already.”

Cary and Trey had met at a photo shoot, with Cary modeling and Trey assisting the photographer behind the camera. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Yeah. He was totally set on not getting laid.”

“So you tried . . . after you said you wouldn’t.”

“This is me we’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes. “Hell yeah, I tried. He’s hot and great in bed—”

“—and in love with you.”

He released his pent-up breath in a rush, wincing as his chest expanded. “No one’s perfect.”

I had to bite back a laugh. “Cary Taylor. Loving you isn’t a character defect.”

“Well, it’s not very smart. I was such an asshole to him,” he muttered, looking disgruntled. “He could do so much better.”

“That isn’t your decision to make for him.”

“Someone needs to make it.”

“And you’re volunteering because you love him, too.” My mouth curved. “Don’t you think that sounds ass-backwards?”

“I don’t love him enough.” All traces of levity were wiped from his face, leaving behind the wounded and lonely man I knew all too well. “I can’t be faithful like he wants. Just him and me. I like women. Love them, actually. I’d be cutting off half of who I am. Just thinking about it makes me resent him.”

“You fought too hard to accept yourself,” I said softly, remembering that time with more than a little twinge of sadness. “I totally understand and don’t disagree, but have you tried talking to Trey about it?”

“Yes, I talked to him about it. He listened.” He rubbed his fingers over his brow. “I get it, I do. If he told me he wanted to bang some other guy while seeing me, it’d bother the fuck out of me.”

“But not if it were a woman?”

“No. I don’t know. Shit.” His bloodshot green eyes pleaded with me. “Would it make a difference to you if Jauregui were banging another man? Or just another woman?”

The door opened and Lauren walked in. I held her gaze when I said, “If Lauren’s dick touched anything but her hand or me, we’d be over.”

Her brows rose. “Well, then.”

I smiled sweetly and winked. “Hi, ace.”

“Angel.” She looked at Cary. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Cary’s lips twisted wryly. “Like I got hit by a bus . . . or a bat.”

“We’re working on getting you set up at home. It looks like we can make that happen by Wednesday.”

“Big tits, please,” Cary said. “Or bulging muscles. Either will do.”

Lauren looked at me.

I grinned. “The private nurse.”

“Ah.”

“If it’s a woman,” Cary went on, “can you get her to wear one of those white nurse dresses with the zipper down the front.”

“I can only imagine the media frenzy over that sexual-harassment lawsuit,” Lauren said dryly. “How about a collection of naughty-nurse porn instead?”

“Dude.” Cary smiled wide and looked, for a moment, like his old self. “You’re the man.”

Lauren looked at me. “Camila.”

I stood and bent over to kiss Cary on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

We stepped out of the room and I saw my mother in conversation with the doctor, who looked dazzled by her.

“I talked to Garrity this morning,” Lauren said, referring to Mark, my boss. “So don’t worry about that.”

I hadn’t been, because she said she’d handle it. “Thank you. I’ll need to go in tomorrow. I’m going to see if I can get hold of Trey, Cary’s boyfriend. Maybe he can stop in while I’m at work.”

“Let me know if you need any help with that.” Lauren glanced at her watch. “You’ll want to stay here again tonight?”

“Yes, if that’s possible. Until Cary comes home.”

She took my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine. “All right. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Charge your cell so I can reach you.”

I heard a faint buzzing. Lauren backed away and reached into an inner jacket pocket to withdraw her phone. She read the screen, then said, “I have to get this. I’ll talk to you later.”

Then she was gone, striding down the hallway as quickly as she’d arrived.

“She’s going to marry you,” my mother said, coming up to stand beside me. “You know that, don’t you?”

I didn’t, no. I still felt a little flare of gratitude every morning when I woke up and realized that we were still together. “What makes you say that?”

My mother looked at me with her baby blue eyes. It was one of the rare physical traits we didn’t share. “She’s completely taken you over and assumed control of everything.”

“That’s just her nature.”

“That’s the nature of all powerful women,” she said, reaching up to fuss with my no-nonsense ponytail. “And she’ll indulge you, because she’s making an investment in you. You’re an asset to her. You’re beautiful, well bred and well connected, and independently wealthy. You’re also in love with her and she can’t take her eyes off you. I bet she can’t keep her hands off you, either.”

“Mother, please.” I was so not in the mood for one of her lectures on the fine points of catching and marrying a rich man.

“Camila Cabello,” she scolded, facing me directly. “I don’t care if you listen to me because I’m your mother and you have to—or because you love her and don’t want to lose her, but you will listen.”

“Like I have a choice,” I muttered.

“You’re an asset now,” she repeated. “See that your life choices don’t make you a liability.”

“Are you talking about Cary?” Anger sharpened my voice.

“I’m talking about the bruise on Lauren’s jaw! Tell me that has nothing to do with you.”

I flushed.

She tsked. “I knew it. Yes, she’s your lover and you see an intimate side to her that few see, but don’t ever forget that she’s also Lauren Jauregui. You’ve got everything you need to be the perfect wife for a person of her stature, but you’re still replaceable, Camila. What she’s built is not. You jeopardize her empire and she’ll leave you.”

My jaw tightened. “Are you done?”

She ran her fingertips over my brows, her gaze shrewd and assessing. I knew she was giving me a mini-makeover in her mind, thinking of ways to improve what she’d given me from birth. “You think I’m a coldhearted gold digger, but my concern is maternal, believe it or not. I want very desperately for you to be with a person who has the money and wherewithal to guard you with everything they have, so I’ll know you’re safe. And I want you to be with a person you love.”

“I’ve found her.”

“And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. I’m thrilled she’s young and still open to taking risks, so she’s more forgiving and understanding of your . . . quirks. And she knows,” she whispered, her gaze softening and growing liquid. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m trying to say. Don’t give her any reason to turn away from you.”

“If she did, that wouldn’t be love.”

Her lips curved wryly and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Come now. You’re my daughter. You can’t be that naïve.”

“Camila!”

I turned at the sound of my name and felt a rush of relief to see Trey hurrying toward me. He was of average height and nicely muscular, with unruly blond hair, hazel eyes, and a slight angle to his nose that told me it’d been broken at some point. He was dressed in faded, frayed jeans and a T-shirt, and I was struck by the fact that he wasn’t Cary’s usual flashy type. For once, it seemed, the attraction had been more than skin deep.

“I just found out,” he said when he reached me. “Detectives came by my work this morning and questioned me. I can’t believe this happened Friday night and I’m only just finding out about it.”

I couldn’t hold his slightly accusatory tone against him. “I just found out early this morning myself. I was out of town.”

After a quick introduction between my mother and Trey, she excused herself to go sit with Cary, leaving me to elaborate on the information Trey had gleaned from the detectives.

Trey shoved his hands through his hair, making it look even messier. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d taken him with me when I left.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Who else do I blame for the fact that he’s screwing around with another guy’s girl?” He gripped the back of his neck. “I’m the one who’s not enough for him. He’s got the drive of a hormonal teenager and I’m working or in school all the damn time.”

Ugh. Total TMI. It was a struggle not to wince. But I understood that Trey likely didn’t have anyone else he felt comfortable discussing Cary with.

“He’s bisexual, Trey,” I said softly, reaching out to run a comforting hand down his biceps. “That doesn’t mean you’re lacking.”

“I don’t know how to live with this.”

“Would you consider counseling? With both of you, I mean.”

He looked at me with haunted eyes for a long minute; then his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I think I have to decide if I can live with him cheating. Could you do it, Camila? Could you sit at home waiting for your lover, knowing they were sticking it somewhere else?”

“No.” An icy shiver coursed through me at the mere words. “No, I couldn’t.”

“And I don’t even know if Cary would agree to counseling. He keeps pushing me away. He wants me, and then he doesn’t. He’s committed, and then he isn’t. I want in, Camila, like he’s let you in, but he keeps shutting me out.”

“It took me a long time to break through to him. He tried pushing me away with sex, always coming on to me, taunting me. I think you made the right decision keeping it platonic on Friday. Cary puts his value on his looks and sex appeal. You need to show him that it’s not just his body you want.”

Trey sighed and crossed his arms. “Is that how you two got close? Because you wouldn’t sleep with him?”

“Partly. Mostly it’s because I’m a mess. It’s not as obvious now as it was when we met, but he knows I’m not perfect.”

“Neither am I! Who is?”

“He believes you’re better than he is, that you deserve better.” I grinned. “Me . . . well, I bet part of him thinks I deserve him. That we deserve each other.”

“Crazy fucker,” he muttered.

“He is that,” I agreed. “That’s why we love him, isn’t it? Do you want to go in and see him? Or do you want to go home and think about it?”

“No, I want to see him.” Trey’s shoulders rolled back and his chin lifted. “I don’t care what put him here. I want to be with him while he’s going through this.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” I linked my arm with his and led him to Cary’s room.

We entered to the sound of my mother’s trilling, girlish laughter. She sat on the edge of the bed, with Cary smiling adoringly at her. She was as much a mother to him as she was to me, and he loved her so much for that. His own mother had hated him, abused him, and allowed others to abuse him.

He looked over and saw us, and the emotions that swept across his face in that moment caused a tightness in my chest. I heard Trey’s breath catch as he got his first sight of Cary’s condition. I kicked myself for not telling him in advance not to make the mistake of getting weepy like I had.

Trey cleared his throat. “Drama queen,” he said with gruff affection. “If you wanted flowers, you should’ve just asked for them. This is extreme.”

“And ineffective, apparently,” Cary rejoined hoarsely, clearly trying to pull himself together. “I don’t see any flowers.”

“I see a ton.” Trey’s gaze did a brief slide across the room, then went back to Cary. “Just wanted to see what I was up against, so I could beat out my competition.”

There was no way to miss the double meaning in that statement.

My mom rose from the bed. She leaned over and kissed Cary’s cheek. “I’ll take Camila out to breakfast. We’ll see you in about an hour or so.”

“Gimme a sec,” I said, passing the bed quickly, “and I’ll get out of your hair, guys.”

I grabbed my phone and charger out of my bag and plugged it into an outlet by the window.

As soon as the screen flickered to life, I sent a quick group text message to Shawna and my dad, saying simply: I’ll call later. Then I made sure my phone was silenced and left it on the window ledge.

“Ready?” my mom asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

#camren #camren fanfiction #camren smut #camren shipper #camren gip #lauren jauregui #lauren and camila #laurengip #camila cabello #camila and lauren #crossfire

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96harmony96 · 1 year

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chapter 10

I stumbled back from the impact, nearly falling. The two hit the asphalt with a sickening thud. Someone yelled. A woman screamed. I could do nothing. I stood frozen and silent, emotions twisting through me in a frenzied tangle.

Lauren pinned Brett by the throat and pummeled his ribs with a relentless series of blows. She was like a machine, silent and unstoppable. Brett grunted with each brutal impact and struggled to break free.

“Jauregui! Dio mio.”

I wept when Arnoldo appeared. He leaped forward, reaching for Lauren, only to scramble back as Brett wrenched to the side and the two rolled.

Brett’s bandmates pushed in through the growing crowd around the front of the buses, prepared to brawl . . . until they saw who Brett was fighting with—the woman with the money behind their record label.

“Kline, you fuckhead!” Darrin, the drummer, gripped his own hair in both fists. “What the hell are you doing?”

Brett broke free, lurched to his feet, and tackled Lauren into the side of a bus. Lauren linked her hands and hammered Brett’s back like a club, forcing Brett to lurch away. Pressing the advantage, Lauren lashed out with a roundhouse kick and followed with a lightning-quick jab to the gut. Brett swung, his powerful biceps bunching with his fist, but Lauren ducked fluidly and retaliated with an uppercut that snapped Brett’s head back.

Jesus.

Lauren didn’t make a sound, not when she struck out and not when Brett landed a direct hit to her jaw. The quiet intensity of her fury was chilling. I could feel the rage pumping off her, saw it in her eyes, but she remained controlled and eerily methodical. She’d disconnected in some way, retreated to a place where she could objectively observe her body doing serious damage to someone else.

I’d caused that. I had turned the warm, wickedly playful woman who’d enchanted me all evening into the cold, murderous fighter in front of me.

“Miss Cabello.” Angus grabbed my elbow.

I looked at him desperately. “You have to stop her.”

“Please, return to the limousine.”

“What?” I looked over and saw blood dripping from Brett’s nose. No one was intervening. “Are you crazy?”

“We need to take Miss Ellison home. She’s your guest; you need to see to her.”

Brett swung and when Lauren feinted to the side, Brett rammed his other fist forward, nailing Lauren in the shoulder and sending her backward a few steps.

I grabbed Angus by the arms. “What’s the matter with you?! Stop them!”

His pale blue eyes softened. “She knows when to stop, Camila.”

“Are you shitting me?!”

He looked over my shoulder. “Mr. Ricci, if you would, please.”

The next thing I knew, I was slung over Arnoldo’s shoulder and en route to the limo. Lifting my head, I saw the circle of bystanders close in with my absence, blocking my view. I screamed my frustration and pounded at Arnoldo’s back, but it didn’t faze him. He climbed right into the back of the limo with me, and when Shawna hopped in a moment later, Angus shut the door as if everything was totally fucking normal.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped at Arnoldo, scrambling for the door handle as the limo rolled smoothly into motion. It wouldn’t open and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to unlock. “She’s your friend! You’re just going to leave her like that?”

“She’s your Girlfriend.” The calm neutrality in Arnoldo’s voice cut me deep. “And you are the one who left her like that.”

I slumped back into the seat, my stomach churning and my palms damp. Lauren . . .

“You’re the Camila in the song ‘Golden,’ aren’t you?” Shawna asked quietly, from her position on the opposite bench seat.

Arnoldo started, obviously surprised by the connection. “I wonder if Lauren—” He sighed. “Of course she knows.”

“That was a long time ago!” I said defensively.

“Not long enough, apparently,” he pointed out.

Desperate to get to Lauren, I couldn’t sit still. My feet tapped, my body battling against restlessness so intense I felt like crawling out of my skin.

I’d hurt the woman I loved and through her, another man who’d done nothing more than be himself. And I had no good explanation for it. Looking back, I had no idea what had come over me. Why hadn’t I pulled away sooner? Why had I kissed Brett back?

And what was Lauren going to do about it?

The thought that she might break up with me triggered overwhelming panic. I was sick with worry. Was she hurt? God . . . the thought of Lauren in pain ate at me like acid. Was she in trouble? She’d assaulted Brett. My palms went damp when I remembered Cary’s news that his clusterfuck buddy also wanted to press assault charges.

Lauren’s life was spiraling out of control—because of me. At some point she was going to realize I wasn’t worth the trouble.

I glanced at Shawna. She was looking out the window pensively. I’d blown her awesome night. And Arnoldo’s, too. “I’m sorry.” I sighed miserably. “I screwed up everything.”

She looked at me and shrugged, then offered a sympathetic smile that made my throat burn. “No big. I had a great time. I hope you work things out for the best.”

The best thing for me was Lauren. Had I blown that? Had I thrown away the most important thing in my life over some weird, inexplicable head trip?

I still felt Brett’s mouth on mine. I scrubbed at my lips, wishing I could erase the last half hour of my life as easily.

My anxiety made it feel like it took an eternity to drive Shawna home. I got out and gave her a hug on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, for both earlier and then, because I was dying to get to Lauren—wherever she was—and I was afraid my impatience showed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive Angus or Arnoldo for taking me away when and how they did.

Arnoldo hugged Shawna and told her that she and Doug had a standing reservation for Tableau One anytime. I softened a little toward him. He’d taken good care of her all night.

We climbed back into the limo and set off for the restaurant. I curled into a darkened corner of the seat and cried silently, unable to contain the flood of despair overwhelming me. When we arrived at the restaurant, I used my tank top to dry my face. Arnoldo stopped me from getting out.

“Be gentle with her,” he scolded, staring hard at my face. “I have never seen her the way she is with you. I can’t say you are worthy of her, but you can make her happy. I saw that myself. Do it or walk. Don’t fuck with her head.”

I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I nodded, hoping he could see in my eyes how much Lauren meant to me. Everything.

Arnoldo disappeared into the restaurant. Before Angus shut the door, I slid forward on the seat. “Where is she? I need to see her. Please.”

“She called.” Angus’s face was kind, which made me start crying again. “I’m taking you to her now.”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know.”

I pushed back into the seat, feeling physically ill. I barely paid attention to where we were headed, my only thought being that I needed to explain. I needed to tell Lauren that I loved her, that I’d never leave her if she’d still have me, that she was the only one I wanted, the only person who set my blood on fire.

Eventually, the car slowed and I looked out, realizing we’d returned to the amphitheater. As I peered out the window, searching for her, the door behind me opened, startling me, and I shifted around to see Lauren duck inside and settle on the opposite bench from me.

I lurched toward her. “Lauren—”

“Don’t.” Her voice whipped with anger, sending me recoiling and falling on my rear. The limo set into motion, jostling me.

Crying, I watched her pour a glass of amber liquor at the bar and toss it back. I waited on the floorboards, my stomach churning with fear and grief. She refilled her glass before shutting the bar and dropping back in her seat. I wanted to ask her if Brett was okay or badly hurt. I wanted to ask how Lauren was, if she was injured or fine. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if she would take the questions the wrong way and assume my concern for Brett meant more than it did.

Her face was impassive, her eyes hard as sapphires. “What is he to you?”

I swiped at the tears streaming down my face. “A mistake.”

“Then? Or now?”

“Both.”

Her lip curled in a sneer. “You always kiss your mistakes like that?”

My chest heaved as I tried to stem the need to sob. I shook my head violently.

“You want him?” she asked tightly, before taking another drink.

“No,” I whispered. “I only want you. I love you, Lauren. So much it hurts.”

Her eyes closed and her head fell back. I took the opportunity to crawl closer, needing to bridge the physical distance between us, at least.

“Did you come for me when I had my fingers inside you, Camila? Or because of his goddamn song?”

Oh my God . . . How could she doubt—?

I made her doubt. I did that. “You. You’re the only one who can get to me like that. Make me forget where I am. Make it so I don’t care who’s around or what’s happening as long as you’re touching me.”

“Isn’t that what happened when he kissed you?” Lauren’s eyes opened and focused on me. “He’s had his dick in you. He’s fucked you . . . blown his load inside you.”

I cringed away from the horrible bitterness in her tone, the vicious nastiness. I knew just how she felt. How badly the mental images could sting and claw until you felt like you were going mad. In my mind, she and Corinne had fucked dozens of times while I watched in sick, jealous fury.

She straightened suddenly, leaning forward to rub her thumb roughly across my lips. “He’s had your mouth.”

I grabbed her glass and drank what was left in it, hating the harsh taste and searing burn. I swallowed by force of will alone. My stomach roiled, protesting. The heat of the alcohol spread outward from my gut.

Lauren sagged back into the seat, her arm thrown across her face. I knew she was still seeing me kissing Brett. Knew it was eating a hole in her mind.

Dropping the glass on the floor, I surged between her legs and fumbled with her button fly.

She caught my fingers in an iron grip but kept her eyes covered with her forearm. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come in my mouth,” I begged. “Wash it away.”

There was a long pause. She sat there, utterly still except for the heavy lift and fall of her chest.

“Please, baby.”

With a muttered curse, she released me, her hand falling limply to her side. “Do it.”

I rushed to get to her, my pulse pounding at the thought that she might change her mind and deny me . . . that she might decide she was done with me. The only help she gave me was a momentary lift of her hips, so I could yank her jeans and boxer briefs out of the way.

Then her big, beautiful cock was in my hands. My mouth. I moaned at the taste of her, at the warmth and satiny softness of her skin, at the smell of her. I nuzzled my cheek against her groin and balls, wanting her scent all over me, marking me as hers. My tongue followed the thick veins coursing the length of him, licking her up and down.

I heard her teeth grind when I sucked her with long drawing pulls, moans of apology and bliss vibrating in my throat. It broke my heart that she was so silent, my vocal lover who always talked dirty to me. Always told me what she wanted and needed . . . how good she felt when I made love to her. She was holding herself back, denying me the satisfaction of knowing I pleased her.

Pumping the thick root with my fist, I milked her, sucking on the plush crown, luring her pre-cum to the tip where I could lick it up with rapid flutters of my tongue. Her thighs bunched, her breath came in fierce pants. I felt her coil tight and I went wild, double-fisting her, my mouth working so hard that my jaw ached. Her spine straightened, her head lifting from the seat only to slam backward as the first thick spurt exploded in my mouth.

I whimpered, her flavor igniting my senses, making me crave more. I swallowed convulsively, my hands pulling and rubbing on her throbbing penis to lure more of her rich, creamy semen onto my tongue. Her body quaked as she came for long minutes, filling my mouth until she spilled out of the sides of my lips. She made no sound, as unnaturally silent as she’d been during the fight.

I would’ve sucked her off for hours. I wanted to, but she put both hands on my shoulders and urged me away. I looked up into her heartrendingly gorgeous face, saw her eyes glittering in the semidarkness. She touched my lips with her thumb, smearing her semen over and around the swollen curves.

“Slide your tight cunt around me,” she ordered hoarsely. “I’ve got more to give you.”

Shaky and frightened by her harsh remoteness, I wriggled out of my boy shorts.

“Take it all off. Everything except the boots.”

I did as she said, my body quickening at her command. I’d do anything he wanted. I would prove to her that I was hers and only hers. I would atone however she needed me to so she’d know I loved her. I unzipped my skirt and pushed it off, then whipped my tank top over my head and threw it on the opposite bench. My bra followed.

When I straddled her, Lauren caught my hips and looked up at me. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“It turns you on to suck my cock.”

My nipples hardened further. The blunt, crude way she talked about sex turned me on, too. “Always.”

“Why did you kiss him?”

The abrupt change in topic knocked me askew. My lower lip trembled. “I don’t know.”

She released me, reaching up and over her shoulders with both hands to grip the sides of the headrest. Her biceps bulged with the pose. I was aroused by the sight, as I was by everything about her. I wanted to see her bare tits glistening with sweat, her abs tightening and flexing as she pumped her cock into me.

I licked my lips, tasting her. “Take your shirt off.”

Her gaze narrowed. “This isn’t for you.”

I stilled, my heart racing in my chest. She was using sex against me. In the limo where we’d first made love, in the same position I’d first taken her . . . “You’re punishing me.”

“You’ve earned it.”

It didn’t matter that she was right. If I’d earned it, so had she.

I gripped the top of the seat back for balance and wrapped the fingers of my other hand around her cock. She was still hard, still throbbing. A muscle in her neck twitched as I stroked her in my fist, priming her. I placed the wide crest between the lips of my cleft, rubbing her back and forth, coating her with the slickness of my desire.

My gaze never left her. I watched her as I teased us both, looking for any sign of the passionate lover I adored. She wasn’t there. A furious stranger glared back at me, daring me, taunting me with her detachment.

I let the first thick inch push inside me, spreading me open. Then I slammed my hips down, crying out as she pierced me deep and stretched me almost unbearably.

“Jesus. Fuck,” she bit out, shuddering. “Goddamn it.”

Her uncontrolled outburst spurred me. Digging my knees into the seat, I set my hands on either side of hers and lifted, pulling off her, my trembling sex clinging tightly. I pushed back down, the glide easier now that she was wet from me. When my buttocks hit her thighs I found her muscles hard as stone, her body giving away the lie—she wasn’t indifferent.

I lifted again, slowly, making us both feel every nuance of the delicious friction. When I pushed back down, I tried to be as stoic as she was, but the sensation of fullness, the heated connection, was too exquisite to contain. I moaned, and she shifted restlessly, her hips moving in a delicious little circle before she could stop himself.

“You feel so good,” I whispered, stroking her raging cock with my eager, aching sex. Sliding up and down. “You’re all I need, Lauren. All I want. You were made for me.”

“You forgot that,” she bit out, her knuckles white from her grip on the seat back.

I wondered if she was just holding on or physically restraining herself from reaching for me. “Never. I could never forget. You’re a part of me.”

“Tell me why you kissed him.”

“I don’t know.” I rested my damp forehead against her, feeling the tears burning behind my eyes. “God, Lauren. I swear I don’t know.”

“Then shut up and make me come.”

If she’d slapped my face, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I straightened and leaned away from her. “Fuck you.”

“Now you’re getting the idea.”

Hot tears slid down my face. “Don’t treat me like a whore.”

“Camila.” Her voice was low and raspy, filled with warning, but her eyes were dark and desolate. Filled with pain that matched my own. “You want to stop, you know what to say.”

Crossfire. With one word I could unmistakably, irrefutably put an end to this agony. But I couldn’t use it now. Just the fact that she brought up my safe word told me she was testing me. Pushing me. She had an agenda, and if I gave up now, I’d never know what it was.

Reaching behind me, I set my hands on her knees. I arched my back and dragged my soaked sex along the rigid length of her cock, then slammed back down. I adjusted the angle, lifted and fell again, gasping at the feel of her. Mad as hell or not, my body worshiped hers. Loved the feel of her, the sense of rightness that was there despite the anger and hurt.

Her breath was powering out of her lungs with every plunge of my hips. Her body was hot, so hot, radiating heat like a blast furnace. I pumped my hips. Up. Down. Taking the pleasure she refused to give me. My thighs, buttocks, stomach, and core tightened with every lift, fisting her from root to tip. They relaxed when I dropped, letting her sink deep.

I fucked her with everything I had, pounding myself onto her cock. Her breath hissed out between her clenched teeth. Then she was coming hard, jetting inside me so fiercely I felt each scorching burst of semen like a separate thrust. I cried out, loving the feel of it, chasing an orgasm that would shatter me. I was wound so tightly, my body desperate for release after pleasing her twice.

But she moved, grabbing me by the waist and restraining my movements, holding herself deep as she pumped me full. I choked off a scream when I realized she was deliberately preventing me from coming.

“Tell me why, Camila,” she growled. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled, trying to grind my hips onto her, pounding her shoulders with my fists when his grip tightened.

Holding me pinned to her pelvis and filled with her cock, Lauren pushed to her feet and everything shifted. She pulled out of me, flipped me to face away from her, then bent me over the edge of the seat with my knees on the floorboard. With one hand at the small of my back, holding me down, she cupped my sex and rubbed, massaging her semen into my cleft. She spread it around, coating me with it. My hips circled, seeking that perfect bit of pressure to get me off . . .

She kept it from me. Deliberately.

The pounding in my clit and the needy clenching of my empty core was driving me mad, my body hungry for release. She pushed two fingers into me and my nails dug into the black leather seat. She finger-fucked me leisurely, sliding lazily in and out, keeping me on the edge.

“Lauren,” I sobbed, the sensitive tissues inside me rippling greedily around her. I was coated in sweat, barely able to breathe. I began to pray for the car to stop, for us to reach our destination, holding my breath in desperate anticipation of escape. But the limo never pulled over. It kept driving and driving, and I was restrained so completely that I couldn’t rise up enough to see where we were.

She folded over my back, her cock lying within the seam of my ass. “Tell me why, Camila,” she crooned in my ear. “You knew I’d be coming after you . . . that I’d find you . . .”

My eyes squeezed shut, my hands clenching into fists. “I. Don’t. Know. Damn you! I don’t fucking know!”

Her fingers pulled free and then her cock was pushing into me. My sex spasmed around the delicious hardness, sucking her deeper. I heard her breath catch on a muffled groan, and then she was taking me.

I cried with the pleasure of it, my entire body shivering with delight as she fucked me thoroughly, the wide head of her gorgeous penis rubbing and tugging at tender, hyperstimulated nerves. The pressure built and built, brewing like a storm . . .

“Yes,” I gasped, stretched tight with anticipation.

She pulled out at the first grasp of my sex and left me hanging on the precipice again. I screamed with frustration, fighting to get up and away from the lover who’d become the source of unbearable torment.

She whispered in my ear like the devil himself. “Tell me why, Camila. Are you thinking of him now? Are you wishing it were his cock inside you? Wishing it were his cock fucking your perfect little cunt?”

I screamed again. “I hate you! You’re a sadistic, selfish son of a—”

She was in me again, filling me, stroking rhythmically into my quivering core.

Unable to stand it a minute longer, I struggled to reach my clit with my fingers, knowing a single stroke would have me coming violently.

“No.” Lauren caught my wrists and held my hands down on the seat, her thighs between my own, keeping my legs spread wide so she could sink deep. Over and over. The tempo of her thrusts unfaltering and relentless.

I was thrashing, screaming, losing my mind. She could make me come with just her cock, giving me an intense vaginal orgasm just from riding me at the right angle, rubbing her thick crest over and over whatever spot I needed her to, a random place inside me she knew instinctively every time she had me.

“I hate you,” I sobbed, tears of frustration wetting my face and the seat beneath my cheek.

Bending over me, she gasped in my ear, “Tell me why, Camila.”

Fury boiled up inside me and spewed out. “Because you deserved it! Because you should know what it feels like! How bad it hurts, you self-centered asshole!”

She stilled. I felt her breath heave out of her. My blood was roaring in my ears, so loudly that at first I thought I was deliriously imagining her voice softening with tenderness.

“Angel.” Her lips brushed over my shoulder blade, her hands releasing my wrists to slide beneath me and cup my full, heavy breasts. “My stubborn, beautiful angel. Finally, we get to the truth.”

Lauren lifted me up, straightening me. Exhausted, my head lolled against her shoulder, my tears dripping onto my chest. I had nothing left to fight with, barely able to whimper when she rolled an aching nipple between her fingertips and reached between my splayed legs. Her hips began to lunge, her cock pumping upward into me as she pinched the lips of my sex around my throbbing clit and rubbed.

I came with a hoarse cry of her name, my entire body convulsing in fierce tremors as the relief exploded through me. The orgasm lasted forever and Lauren was tireless, extending my pleasure with the perfect thrusts I’d been so frantic for earlier.

When I finally collapsed in her arms, panting and soaked with sweat, she lifted me carefully off her and placed me lengthwise on the bench seat. Shattered, I covered my face with my hands, incapable of stopping her when she pushed my thighs apart and put her mouth on me. I was soaked with her semen and she didn’t care, tonguing and suckling my clit until I came again. And again.

My back arched with each orgasm, my breath soughing from my lungs. I lost track of how many times I climaxed after they began rolling into each other, cresting and waning like the tide. I tried to curl away from her, but she just straightened and yanked her shirt off, climbing over me with one knee on the seat and the other leg extended to the floor. She placed her hands on the window above my head, putting her body on display as she’d refused to do before.

I shoved at her. “No more! I can’t take any more.”

“I know.” Her abs tightened as she slid into me, her eyes on my face as she pushed carefully through swollen tissues. “I just want to be inside you.”

My neck arched as she slid deeper, a low sound escaping me because it felt sooo good. As worn out and overstimulated as I was, I still craved to possess her and to be possessed by her. I knew I always would.

Bending her head, she pressed her lips to my forehead. “You’re all I want, Camila. There’s no one else. There will never be anyone else.”

“Lauren.” She understood, as I hadn’t, that the night had fallen apart because of my jealousy and the deep-seated need I had to make her feel it for herself.

She kissed me softly, reverently, erasing every memory of anyone else’s lips on mine.

* * *

“Angel.” Lauren’s voice was a warm rasp in my ear. “Wake up.”

I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and burying my face deeper in her neck. “Leave me alone, you sex fiend.”

Her silent laughter shook me. She pressed a hard kiss to my forehead and wiggled out from under me. “We’re here.”

Cracking one eye open, I watched her put her shirt back on. She’d never gotten out of her jeans. I realized the sun was out. I sat up and looked out the windows, gasping when I saw the ocean. We’d stopped for gas once but I hadn’t been able to get my bearings or figure out where we were. Lauren had declined to tell me when I asked, saying only that it was a surprise.

“Where are we?” I breathed, thrilled by the sight of the sun climbing over the water. It had to be solidly into morning. Maybe even midmorning.

“North Carolina. Lift your arms.”

I obeyed automatically, and she slid my tank top over my head. “I need my bra,” I muttered, when I could see her again.

“No one’s here to see you but me and we’re going straight into the bathtub.”

I looked again at the weathered shingle-covered building we’d parked beside. It was at least three stories, with wraparound decks and balconies on the front and sides, and a quaint single-door entrance off the back. It stood on stilts at the shoreline, so close to the water that I knew the tide must come up right beneath it. “How long have we been driving?”

“Almost ten hours.” Lauren slid my skirt up my legs and I stood, allowing her to twist it straight and pull up the zipper. “Let’s go.”

She got out first, then held her hand out for me. The bracing, salty breeze hit my face, waking me. The rhythmic surge of the ocean grounded me to the moment and where we were. Angus was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, since I was very aware of my lack of underwear. “Angus drove all night?”

“We switched drivers when we stopped for gas.”

I looked at Lauren and my pulse stuttered at the tender, haunted way she was looking at me. A shadow of a bruise marred her jaw and I reached up to touch it, my chest aching when she nuzzled into my palm.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, feeling so emotionally raw after the long night we’d had.

She caught my wrist and pulled my hand down to press flat over her heart. “Here.”

My love . . . It had been hard on her, too. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” She kissed my fingertips, then linked our hands and led me up to the house.

The door was unlocked and she walked right in. A wire mesh basket sat on a console just inside the door, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses tied with ribbon. As Lauren turned the deadbolt with a firm click, I plucked the Welcome envelope out and opened it. A key fell into my palm.

“We won’t be needing that.” She took the key from me and set it on the console. “For the next two days, we’re going to be hermits together.”

A hum of pleasure warmed me from the inside, followed by more than a little awe that a woman like Lauren Jauregui could enjoy my company so much she didn’t need anyone else.

“Come on,” she said, tugging me toward the stairs. “We’ll break into that wine later.”

“Yeah. Coffee first.”

I took in the décor of the house. It was rustic on the outside and modern contemporary on the inside. The wainscoted walls were painted a bright white and decorated with massive black-and-white photos of seashells. The furniture was all white, and most of the accessory pieces were glass and metal. It would have been stark if not for the gorgeous view of the ocean and the color introduced in the area rugs covering the hardwood floors and the collection of hardcover books filling built-in bookcases.

When we reached the top floor, I felt a flutter of happiness. The master suite was a totally open space, with only two support columns to break it up. Bouquets of white roses, white tulips, and white calla lilies covered nearly every flat surface, and some even sat on the floor in strategic areas. The bed was massive and covered in white satin, which made me think of a bridal suite, an impression reinforced by the black-and-white photo of a filmy scarf or veil blowing in the breeze hanging over the headboard.

I looked at Lauren. “Have you been here before?”

She reached up and freed my now-lopsided ponytail. “No. What reason would I have to come here?”

Right. She didn’t take women anywhere but her hotel fuck pad—that she apparently still had. My eyes closed wearily as she ran her fingers through the loosened tresses of my hair. I didn’t have the energy to get riled up about that.

“Take your clothes off, angel. I’ll start the bath.”

She backed up. I opened my eyes and caught her by the shirt. I didn’t know what to say; I just didn’t want her to go.

She understood, because she got me.

“I’m not going anywhere, Camila.” Lauren cupped my jaw in her hands and stared into my eyes, showing me the intensity and laser focus that had snared me from the first. “If you wanted him, it wouldn’t be enough for me to let you go. I want you too much. I want you with me, in my life, in my bed. If I can have that, nothing else matters. I’m not too proud to take what I can get.”

I swayed into her, drawn to her obsessive and insatiable raw need for me, which reflected the depth of my need for her. My hand fisted in the cotton of her T-shirt.

“Angel,” she breathed, lowering her head to press her cheek to mine. “You can’t let me go, either.”

She swept me up in her arms and carried me into the bathroom with her.

#camren #camren gip #camren fanfiction #camren smut #lauren and camila #laurengip #camila and lauren #lauren jauregui #fanfic

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