St. Nacho's 4: The Book of Daniel by Z. A. Maxfield Page B

didn’t have to examine that through Cam’s filter to know how wrong it was.
    The way Cam flip-flopped on me reflected some pretty conflicted emotions. But one thing he’d never pulled any punches about was a man who used a woman as a beard.
    “Maybe I should just go.”
    “That’s probably for the best,” he said quietly.
    I started making my way to the door. “I just came by to say I’m sorry. It wasn’t personal—with the tree. I just happened to be up there and—”
    “ Daniel ?”
    Fuck it all , there it was again, that damned voice of his, and by then I could absolutely swear he did it only for me, covering me with it like thick honey and cream when we were alone and no one else could hear him use it.
    I froze.
    He hesitated. “Do you really like to see me smile?”
    “Yeah.” I turned to find him gazing down at me. “I really do.”
    I barely breathed. We’d been dancing around that compelling something between us ever since he’d pulled me out of my wreck—maybe even before that, back when we met the first night I landed in town and got drunk with Jake at Nacho’s.
    Cam hooked me by the back of my neck and pulled me to him, palming my head like a basketball. His hand was so warm it heated my scalp through my hair. He gripped my head hard as he slanted his mouth over mine.
    For a second it felt exactly like free fall—a sudden shocking surge of fear along with a tremendous rush of excitement—and then I just caught fire.
    Cam had softer lips than any man his size had a right to, but the brush of his beard stubble was scratchy and electric. His tongue twined around mine and tickled, exploring my teeth and palate, and licking my lips as he opened up and let me do the same. He touched, tasted, and teased me while all my blood rushed south to pulse uncomfortably behind my zipper, and I kissed him back, so hard my lips went numb.
    He both seduced and devoured me until my head swam and my good arm went around his neck to cling to him. I let my other arm hang limp. I really longed for it. I missed using both hands to touch and manhandle, to grip a lover’s ass and squeeze. He gently insinuated his arm around me underneath mine to get better hold, and again, his hand—that unexpected plate-sized circle of warm flesh—explored until it pushed its way beneath the waistband of my jeans to touch my naked flesh.
    Our cocks pressed together, hard and insistent, and right then I knew—I thought I knew—exactly how good it could be between us.
    Just like that, I’d have been willing to ditch my clothes and offer myself up to him. He was everything I wanted, but then I think we both remembered what brought me there in the first place.
    “Oh, fuck.” Cam pushed me back just a bit. “I…um…accept your apology.”
    “I guess so ,” was all I could think to say.
    My lips felt puffy from being crushed and kissed like that. I might have liked the rest of me to feel that way too—only not when I’d seen him getting blown by someone else an hour before. Or when we had that whole, lying liars that lie thing between us.
    “There are a lot of reasons this isn’t a great idea,” Cam whispered.
    I nodded. “I need to leave while I can still remember what they are.” Damn it, I couldn’t make myself let him go. “Look. Will you meet me for dinner at Nacho’s sometime?”
    “I don’t know…” Cam had already drawn back, but he stood indecisively for a few seconds. He pried my arm from around his neck and walked me to the door. “I wish—” He bit his lip against the words.
    “Me too. Fuck yeah. Me too .” I went for broke. “Are we going to keep pushing each other away?”
    One side of his sensuous mouth lifted. “Are you going keep being a lying sack of shit?”
    Jeez . I might still be a sack of shit because I had lied—either plainly or by omission—for over a decade. And after fucking up everything else I’d ever done by trying to grease it and make it easier with white lies or harmless