All Over You (All Falls Down #3) (19 page)

"You asked for all of me," he pants in my ear, "but I can't give you what you already have, kitten." He rises above me, driving harder into me. "You have me."

"Oh God."

Sensation begins to shrink, a coil winding into an unidentifiable single point of pleasure.

He lifts my hand again, pressing it to his chest, against his heart. "Take it, sweetheart," he groans as my inner muscles begin to clamp around him. "It's yours. Has been since I met you."

A scream tears from my lips as orgasm slams into me. I latch onto him, holding tightly as I detonate around him. Fireworks explode behind my eyelids, a million colors dancing in a kaleidoscope of ecstasy.

He roars my name, and then he's spilling into me, filling me full of him. His body is rigid above mine, every muscle locked tight as release tears through him.

"You ruined me," he whispers against my lips a moment later and rolls to the side gathering me up in his arms. He holds me to his chest as strong waves continue to wash over me. "Can't think about anything but you."

His lips find mine, his kiss steadying me as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Somehow, my hand is still between us, my palm flat against his heart. I moan softly, burrowing into him. His skin is sweaty, slick. So is mine. I don't care. I cling to him, refusing to let go as tears drip down my face. Even when the waves of pleasure recede, I refuse to let him go.

chapter thirteen

run

"What am I gonna do with you?" he mumbles a few moments later, his lips at my crown.

I don't think he's really expecting me to respond, but I answer him anyway. "Keep me."

"Plan on it," he says and then he groans and lifts me up in his arms before rising from the bed.

I loop my arms around his neck as he strides toward the bathroom. My entire body feels all detached and fuzzy, my arms and legs like Jell-O. I'm completely spent in the best way possible. Evidence of our lovemaking is all over me. Love bites mar my skin, my hair is a wild tangle, and my thighs are a mess of our juices.

Cam sits me on the counter and makes sure I'm steady before he turns to start the tub.

I watch him through heavy lids, admiring how confidently he moves. The muscles in his back ripple sinuously as he fills the tub, pouring the little bottle of shampoo into the water to make bubbles. There are red scratches down his back and across his upper arms. I like seeing them there, standing in testament to what just happened between us.

He glances at me over his shoulder, showing me that dimple, letting me know he's fully aware that I'm staring at him. I'm not ashamed though, and he doesn't seem to mind. I run my eyes over his body again when he turns to attend to the water, taking in all that sleek muscle and power. The tattoos on his shoulders are a stark contrast to his dark golden skin, drawing my gaze. One is an angel or saint with a shield and a sword. Another is a cross with a blue ribbon wrapped around it and a date inked below. On the other shoulder is an eagle with wicked talons and gorgeous wings. Below that is a line of text in a language I don't recognize… Latin, maybe.

"I like your tattoos," I mumble when he comes back to me and tilts my face up to his with his hands on my cheeks. "They're gorgeous."

"So are you." His lips lift into a teasing smirk. He leans forward and brushes a kiss across my forehead. "So beautiful," he says against my skin.

His words melt me. I've heard them before, but not the way he says them. Like he's talking about more than the way I look.

He lifts me into his arms again and carries me to the tub before climbing in with me. He holds me effortlessly as he eases himself down, taking me with him. Only when he's seated does he relax his hold, settling me into the water in front of him. I rest against his chest, sighing happily.

He pushes my hair off my shoulder and kisses my skin before resting his head back against the tub, his arms around me. I'm suddenly really glad I let him talk me into staying with him. There's no way we both would have fit in the tiny, dirty tub in my motel room.

He grabs a bar of soap and lathers up his hands before running them down my arms, massaging my skin.

"You were at the police station a long time," I murmur to him, sinking deeper into the warm water as his hands travel across my upper body, massaging soap into every inch of me.

"We're not talking about that right now."

"But―"

"No, kitten," he says against my ear, his voice firm, resolute. "I'm taking care of you right now. We can talk later."

"You're so bossy," I grumble, not really complaining. I'm perfectly fine with letting him work magic on my body with those hands instead of talking about my imminent arrest.

He bites my shoulder, his thumbs running over my nipples. They harden instantly, pebbling as my body stirs again.

"Look at you," he murmurs, sliding a soapy hand down my stomach. He plunges it into the water, his fingers coming to rest against my pussy.

There is no way I can come again, but my body doesn't care about how sensitive I am. It responds immediately, blooming for him. I groan, arching upward, trying to get closer.

"So greedy for more," he whispers against the shell of my ear, and slips a finger through my folds, pressing against my clit. "Bet I could make you come for me right now, couldn't I?"

"Cam," I say, slightly alarmed at the thought because he's right. I
am
greedy for more. Given half a chance, I'd gorge myself on him, not stopping until I died of the pleasure.

Wouldn't that be a glorious way to go? Fucked to death.

"Relax, kitten," he says with a soft chuckle, moving his hand away from my center. "Don't think you can take any more right now."

I sigh, partly relieved, partly disappointed.

He soaps his hands up again and resumes his massage.

"I thought you were going to be rough with me," I confess after a moment.

"You've had a hard day," he says. "You didn't need me to be rough with you."

He's right, but… "I wanted it, though."

"I know." He pushes against my shoulder, silently instructing me to lean forward. When I do, he runs his hands down my spine, digging his fingers into the muscles. "There's plenty of time for me to tie you up and fuck you until you can't take anymore, kitten. But you needed something else more. You needed to know you aren't in this alone."

"I know I'm not," I tell him, moaning softly.

"Oh?"

I hesitate for a brief moment, not sure how to say what I need to say, not sure I know the words. I wanted rough and wild Cam, but that's not what he gave me. He gave me something else, something I needed more than I knew. I asked for all of him, and he gave it to me. He took me to the edge, forced me to admit what I really want from him―his heart. He shattered me…but he didn't break me. I think he made me stronger. I feel powerful, like a warrior. Because of him. Because he trusts me with his heart, the one piece of him that he's never given to anyone. I'm not sure if it's completely mine yet, but he's all in, willing to hand it over.

I'm not sure there are words to explain how that feels.

He pulls me back to him, wrapping his arms around my soapy body as if he knows what I don't have the words to say to him. "I got you, kitten," he murmurs. "I'll always have you."

"Thank you," I whisper, tilting my head to kiss his cheek.

He turns his face so his lips meet mine instead. They're soft against mine, gentle. He kisses me until I'm breathless and then he breaks away, burying his face in my throat. He shifts his hips until his erection nudges at my back.

"Addicted," he mutters.

I'm not sure if he's talking about him or his dick this time, and I don't think it matters.

"Me too," I say simply.

"You ready to talk?" he asks later, watching me from across the room. He's shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips and his feet bare as he reheats our leftovers from last night. I'm curled up on the bed where he put me after he carried me out of the bath, the covers tucked around me. He's pampering me, and I'm not about to complain.

"Yes," I say, folding my hands together in my lap.

He grabs our food, tucks two beers under his arm, and strolls toward me. Only when he's settled in the bed beside me, our food spread out around us, does he start filling me in on what to expect.

"I talked to Octavio," he says, handing me a spoon. "He's been working the case for LAPD, and he agrees with me that you didn't do this."

"That's good," I murmur, relieved that someone else believes me.

"That is good," Cam agrees, "but it doesn't help us much. He's not the lead investigator anymore."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because Clark died in San Francisco."

I frown, not sure why that matters.

"They have jurisdiction over the body, so it's officially San Francisco's case now," he says before I can ask for an explanation. "Octavio will turn over all the evidence to them, and they'll file any charges. The prosecuting attorney will then decide whether they have a case or not."

"Us," I say.

He cocks a brow at me in silent question.

"You should have said us, not them. You work for San Francisco."

"I do," he says, taking a swig from his beer. "But this isn't my case, kitten. Even if I wasn't seeing you, it wouldn't be my case. He didn't die in my district."

"I know," I mumble, stirring my rice. "But when you say it like that, like you're separate, it feels like you're trying to distance yourself from your job for me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do that. You're a cop. You can't change that."

"I don't want to change it."

"That's not what I mean. I mean…it feels like you're distancing yourself from your job to make me feel better, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that for me. You're a cop, and I'm a teacher."

"Not sure what you're getting at, kitten."

I glance over at him, meeting his gaze. "I'm saying…I guess I'm saying that if you're all in, I am, too. I can't promise I'm not going to worry that being with me might screw up your career, because I
am
worried about it. I don't want to be the reason you lose something that's so important to you, but our relationship doesn't have anything to do with the case, so I'm not going to hold back because of it anymore. I'm all in."

"Yeah?" he asks, his expression softening.

"Yeah." I nod. "Whether you're a cop or a gigolo, I'm in."

He leans over and kisses me hard on the mouth and then he pulls back, grinning. "A gigolo, huh?"

"Don't even pretend you don't know how hot you are," I say, rolling my eyes at him.

He grins, his dimple popping out. "You think I'm hot, huh?"

"Nope," I lie, fighting a smile. "Not in the least."

He narrows his eyes at me and growls. "Told you about that smart mouth, kitten. Don't fuck with me."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, rolling my eyes again. "You can fill it later."

"Remember you said that," he warns me.

I sniff and resume eating, not letting on to the fact that I'm more than willing to let him have my mouth again. "Did you tell your friend about the shop?" I ask between mouthfuls, getting back on track.

"He's going to see if San Francisco can get someone over there to review the tapes." Cam pauses to take a bite, chewing and then swallowing before he continues. "I want to check it out myself, too," he says. "I'll go as soon as we get back to town."

"Okay."

"I want you to go with me, but I'm not sure if that'll be possible."

I freeze, my spoon hovering in mid-air.

"Octavio is waiting for an arrest warrant to be issued anytime," he murmurs, his voice soft, as if he's trying to ease the blow. "Clark's parents are pushing for it since his body was found, and they have enough circumstantial evidence to justify an arrest."

I lower my spoon, carefully setting it in my takeout box. My stomach roils, and my mind rebels, wanting to arbitrarily reject the possibility as outlandish. But it isn't. I'm going to go to jail. I take a deep breath, striving for calm.

"Okay," I say after a moment, proud when my voice doesn't waver.

"It'll be better for you to turn yourself in," Cam says, setting his own container aside. He pulls me to him, tugging me into his lap. "The more you cooperate, the better the chance of you being granted bail."

"Okay," I say again, taking his word for it. He's the expert here, not me. "H-how much time do I have?"

He hesitates.

"Tell me."

"A day, maybe two."

A day, maybe two.
I expected it, but hearing him confirm my suspicions is something altogether different. A day or two isn't enough time. Not even close to it. There's an expiration date on my freedom now, and that fact is overwhelmingly terrifying.

"Talk to me," he says quietly.

"And say what? That I'm scared? That it's not enough time?" I shake my head rapidly, trying to hold tears at bay. "I
am
scared. It
isn't
enough time. I'm going to jail, Cam. In a day or two, I'm going to be labeled as a murderer and tossed into a cell."

"Hey." He turns me to face him. His expression is firm, mutinous. "You can beat this."

"Maybe. But by the time we find enough evidence to prove I'm innocent, the damage will already be done. My job will be gone, and so will any future prospects. All I've ever wanted to do is teach," I mumble, my heart breaking all over again when I think about my kids…the ones who think I'm coming back. The ones who have had far too many people bow out of their lives with no warning and no explanation.