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Authors: Kelly Moran

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary

The Dysfunctional Test (19 page)

BOOK: The Dysfunctional Test
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He tensed, paused, and drove twice more before shuddering against her.

She laid there, jolted, exhausted, and humming with satisfaction, wondering how in the heck she’d gone this long without feeling like this. Troy didn’t loosen his hold, didn’t move one iota. She looked down at the top of his head, his cheek resting between her breasts.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute, Cam.”

“Um, all right.” What was wrong with him? That was sheer amazement on her end. Was he let down? Was she
that
bad?

After pulling out, he disposed of the condom in the trash next to the bed, and rolled them so she was on top. “You surprise me. I don’t surprise easily.”

She rested her head on his chest, unable rationalize what happened. Everything just changed. Everything. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted her head to look her in the eye. Feeling exposed, she swallowed and looked down.

“Don’t do it, Cam. Don’t shut down on me.”

She shook her head as the room closed in. He may do this everyday, but she didn’t. She wasn’t used to someone holding her, giving her multiple orgasms. Being nice. She made a move to climb off, but he abruptly sat up, snaked an arm behind her back, and closed his mouth over hers.

Oh, his mouth. So much talent in his kiss.

Hating herself for being weak, she melted. He made her weak. No one had ever broken her down like that, made her feel bare and fragile. She was not fragile, darn it.

Returning his kiss, she held the solid mass of muscles bunching his shoulders. Arms that held her like she meant something to him. Like she meant more to him than sex. This kiss wasn’t hot, frantic. It was slow, sweet. He was being sweet.

For how long? Until the next blonde came along? Until he got tired of testing the waters of ordinary?

She edged back and pressed her lips together so he couldn’t kiss her again. “I’m just going to wash up. I’ll…be right back.”

He looked wounded, shocked. But to his credit, he dropped his hands to the mattress and nodded.

 

Troy watched Cam’s retreating back, and then the bathroom door as it closed, wondering what in the hell just happened. He understood the great sex part, but immediately after, Camryn closed herself off. She all but had a panic attack.

Hearing the shower turn on, his gut sank. She was trying to wash him away.

He looked around the room, seeing her shirt by the balcony doors, her shorts near the closet, the condom wrapper on her nightstand. Standing, he disposed of the wrapper and picked up her clothes, bunching them in his hands.

He looked at the bathroom door in front of him, her clothes, the door again.

He braced his arms on the door frame and leaned into them. If he allowed himself to believe it, this entire trip had been building to this moment. To what he’d do, how he handled it.

And he’d finally met his match in Cam, ’cause he didn’t know what in the hell to do with her, himself, or the feelings rising between them.

Closing his eyes, he knocked lightly on the door. “Cam?” She didn’t answer, so he knocked again.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” she said. Back to calm, normal Camryn.

To hell with this. He was anything but calm. And she should be anything but. He opened the door, stepped inside, and dropped her clothes on the vanity. He yanked the shower curtain aside and stared at her as she fumbled to cover herself.

He made an exaggerated point to look down the length of her before speaking. “I’ve seen you naked. And I told you to never cover up.”

“I said I’d be out in a sec. What are you doing?”

Since he didn’t know, he asked her a question instead. “What was that in there?” He pointed toward the bedroom as if it were an antagonist. It was beginning to feel that way.

She had the gall to look confused. “Sex?”

His teeth gnashed. “After the sex.”

“I…”

He sucked in a deep breath. “I, what, Cam?”

She looked away, swallowed, and stared at the water circling the drain. It dawned on him right there and then how vulnerable she looked. She wasn’t calm at all. Dripping wet, yes. Exposed, yes. And…scared. Of him?

He stepped in the shower and closed the curtain behind him. Her eyes flew wide. Taking her hands in his, he laced their fingers and looked her in the eye. He leaned in to kiss her, and she backed away.

“Stop it, Troy.”

“Stop what?”

She released his hands and covered herself again, all anger now. “Stop being so damn nice to me. You checked off another item on your list, so I don’t need pillow talk and…”

“Did you just say…?” His teeth ground a second time as he grabbed her hands again. “I can’t believe you. What happened in there was not on my list. I didn’t just have sex with you because of a list…”

“Then why did you?” she asked, her tone pure anger but her eyes all grief.

She was serious. Completely serious.

“Because I wanted to. And so did you.” She crossed her arms in another attempt to cover herself. Taking her wrists, he pinned them behind her and pressed her back to the tile. “Stop covering yourself. You’re… Hell, you’re beautiful, Cam.”

A distressed sound rose from within her as she shook her head. “Let me go,” she whispered. “Please, Troy, just let me go.”

Hell no. He had a feeling people had been letting her go her whole life. He wouldn’t be one of them. “What did this Maxwell guy do to you to make you like this?”

Her eyes glazed as she stared over his shoulder. “Nothing.”

“Who then? Who made you like this? Where you can’t trust even me?”

Her eyes drifted closed, tears flowing from them and onto her cheeks. Seeing her like this was humbling. And painful. This wasn’t on his list, wasn’t in his plan, but her crying had to be a good sign that she was letting him in. Letting someone in. Finally.

“No one did this to me. I am what I am. Now, please, let me go.”

He looked at her a second more and shook his head in defeat. He released her and stepped back, wanting to help her like she’d done for him all those years ago. He didn’t want the help then, and she didn’t want it now. Thankfully, she hadn’t listened to him as a kid. She was there when he needed her, even if he didn’t realize it at the time. He’d repay the favor.

But at some point, she had to let him. She had to give in. And she wasn’t there yet. So he stepped out of the shower, dried off and left her alone.

Like every other worthless jerk had done.

 

 

Cam tiptoed downstairs, hoping not to wake the house. She was going to find a pint of ice cream if she had to make it herself. She didn’t care if she fit into the bridesmaid dress or not. She didn’t care if she gained a hundred pounds and had to use the handicap seat on the flight home, then waddle her way through life like a duck.

She was having ice cream. Middle-of-the-night ice cream. Pathetic.

Walking around the corner, she stepped into the kitchen and found Heather sitting at the island, eating ice cream.

“You better have saved me some. I’ll kill without it.”

Heather held out the carton. “I’ll share. What are you doing awake?” Her question ended in a horrified gasp lasting ten seconds long. Her eyes bulged as she pointed an accusatory finger. “You slept with him!”

Darn sister of hers. “Troy? Of course. We’re sharing a room. Sleeping together is required.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed, not amused in the least by her sarcasm. “You know what I mean, Camryn!”

“Do you have sexdar or something?”

“You did. You slept with him!”

Camryn whipped a glance to the hallway and back again. “Would you keep it down? You’ll wake up the house.” She grabbed the cookie dough ice cream from her sister and sat down across from her, spooning a heapful into her mouth.

Mm, cookie dough
.

“What does this mean? Are you dating for real?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Heather.”

“Why is that ridiculous?”

Camryn raised her eyebrows in response, trying for Mom’s I’m-not-too-old-to-spank-you look.

“How did it happen?”

“When a man and woman love each other…” She stopped short on her jab, realizing what she just said. There was no love involved between her and Troy. Not in the romantic sense. There never would be.

Heather didn’t seem to notice. “Knock it off. Was he good? I’ll bet he was good. He has a body like Thor.”

Camryn passed her the ice cream, not having the heart to tell her Troy’s body trumped Thor. And Green Lantern’s. “Yeah, he was good.” Not the correct adjective for what just went down upstairs, but it would do for this time of night.

“Then what are you doing down here eating ice cream? You only eat midnight ice cream if something’s wrong.” When she didn’t answer, Heather bombarded her again like a fanatical reporter. “You freaked out, didn’t you?”

“I did not freak out.”

Heather passed the carton back to her. “You did too. You freaked out. Or you two had a fight. Make-up sex is the best. You should go upstairs and…”

Camryn had enough. She whipped a spoonful of cookie dough ice cream at Heather. It landed dead center on her forehead, then plopped to the granite countertop.

Heather’s jaw dropped. “Did you just throw ice cream at me?”

“Yes. I’m not sorry, either. You should shut up once in a while.”

“I’m going to ignore that,” she said, pretending to be dignified despite appearances otherwise.

Of course she’d ignore her. Everyone did. Heather wiped the ice cream off her face with a nearby napkin and stared at her long enough for Camryn to know another brilliant insight was forthcoming.

“You’re different,” Heather said in awe, as if talking to a psychic reading her palm.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You smile more. You joke around.”

Camryn dropped her spoon in the carton and passed it back, losing her appetite for even her safety net. “Sarcasm is not joking. Sarcasm is a response to stupid.”

“I think Troy is good for you.”

“So are carrots, but you don’t see me eating them.” She needed a topic change, not that Heather would allow one. “What are
you
doing down here? You’re not getting nervous about the wedding, are you?”

Heather shook her head. “Not nervous, just excited. And don’t change the subject.”

Camryn dropped her forehead to the counter.
Bang head here
. Raising her head, she stood. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Cam, he’s bringing out the best in you. Why not try with him?”

She sighed. “Heather, Troy and I have absolutely nothing in common. We’re complete opposites.”

“And where did dating someone you had things in common with get you?” Suddenly her sister was Yoda. Heather stood and threw the carton away. “Besides, opposites attract.”

“So do magnets until you flip them over.”

Chapter Thirteen

Life Lessons According to Camryn:

Reputations are nothing more than history in rumor form.

 

Camryn finished rubbing sunscreen on Emily and capped the bottle. “Remember, no swimming alone. Someone has to be in the pool before you get in.”

Emily nodded and bounded off. Camryn sat back in her lounge chair and closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sun. They were taking it easy today. The extended family and Heather’s friends were due to fly in tomorrow. The Hortons had booked an entire floor at a hotel through the weekend.

Two more days and this would all be over. She just had to get through the rehearsal dinner, bachelorette party and the wedding.

“Camryn Covic,” her mother shouted from across the pool. “Do you have sunscreen on?”

As if she hadn’t lived in this skin for thirty years to know how easily it burned. “Yes, Mother. I let Emily put it on. I figured tiny white handprints in sunburn would go nicely with the lavender bridesmaid dress.”

Troy laughed from his chair next to her.

“Is she trying to be funny?” her mother asked to no one in particular, her voice as shrill as an air raid siren.

“Trying, being the operative word,” Fisher said.

“You better put more on,” Mom insisted.

She wondered if they made SPF 3000 sunscreen, then she could take a trip to the sun and away from here. She should email Coppertone to suggest it.

Before she could explain to her mother that she just applied SPF 50 ten minutes ago, Troy mumbled, “Here, I’ll do it. It’ll shut her up.”

It was the first thing he’d said to her since the shower last night. Taking the bottle from between them, he straddled the chair behind her and rubbed the lotion over her shoulders and back. From behind her sunglasses, she closed her eyes and ordered herself not to respond to his touch. She’d responded enough last night.

When finished, he leaned forward. “We’re having a talk tonight, Cam. Like it or not.” Standing abruptly, he walked the few feet to the pool and dove in.

BOOK: The Dysfunctional Test
12.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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