So Good: A Ribbon Ridge Novel (Love on the Vine Book 1) (18 page)

She moaned, her fingers digging into his scalp. He squeezed her flesh and used his teeth lightly, making her gasp. “Yes.” The word floated from her mouth—a plea, a demand. Over and over, she prodded him with that word and with her body. Her hips continued to rotate into his, and her hands moved over him, seeking and claiming. She clasped his ass and pulled him tight against her. His cock nestled between her legs, finding her heat despite the clothing between them. He needed her now.

“Cam.”

It sounded as if she needed him too.

He reluctantly left her breast, and she clasped the hem of his shirt. He whipped it off and threw it aside, then pulled her away from the fridge long enough to unhook her bra. Then he brought her against him and kissed her again, reveling in being flesh to flesh with her at last.

He pinned her against the fridge, and she tilted her hips. The movement caressed his cock just right. He groaned and grabbed her ass, lifting her. She wrapped her legs around him, bringing him even closer to that sweet spot. He mentally cursed the clothes they were still wearing.

She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him as she squeezed him with her legs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this worked up. Not even last week when she’d interrupted him in the shower. This was utter bliss. This was heaven. This was Brooke.

He considered where to go next—he needed to get the rest of their clothes off. He interrupted the kiss long enough to form a single-word question. “Bedroom?”
 

She kissed him, her tongue sweeping against his. “Mmm, yes.”

He mentally undressed her and then him and then—

Shit.

He pulled back slightly. She opened her eyes and gave him a dusky stare.

“I, uh…” He hadn’t come prepared for this. “I don’t suppose you have a condom?”

Chapter Eleven

B
rooke flattened her back against the refrigerator. The irony of Cam not having a condom nearly made her laugh…until she thought about the fact that they didn’t actually need a condom, assuming they were both clean.

As if he read her mind, he said, “I’m clean. I get tested every six months, and I haven’t, uh, had a partner since my last test. If you’re on birth control, we could forgo the condom—but only if you’re comfortable with that.”

She would’ve been. But she wasn’t on birth control. Because I don’t need it.

She unhooked her legs and pushed at his shoulders.
 

Lines creased his brow, and he stepped back. “What’s wrong?”

She pushed her hair back from her face. “Nothing. I’m not on birth control, and I don’t have any condoms, so…” You should go.

He wiped a hand over his forehead and blew out a breath. Then his eyes found hers, and they sharpened with hope. “I have condoms at home. I can be right back.”

She bent down and picked up her bra and tank top, then walked away from him to put them on with her back to him. “I think this is probably the Universe telling us to put on the brakes, don’t you?”

“Uh…” He sounded confused. Or frustrated. Or both.

She hooked her bra on and wiggled into it, pulling up the straps. After she shimmied into her tank top, she turned. He was still standing there bare-chested, and damn if she wasn’t sorely tempted to pick up right where they’d left off.

She took a deep breath to calm her speeding pulse. “The points you made last week—about not ruining our working relationship—are as valid today as they were then. Maybe even more so since things have been kind of awkward. You came here for a reset and that’s a great idea. We got carried away, but thankfully had a good reason to stop.”

He still looked a bit dazed, and it reminded her of how she’d felt when he’d called a halt last time. She didn’t feel any sort of vengeance, though. It wasn’t about that.
 

Then what was it about?

Her mind was crammed with thoughts and sensations—wanting him, feeling alone, fighting the sudden urge to cry because she didn’t need any damned birth control. “I’m sorry about sending mixed messages. This is complicated, and we’ve been trying to uncomplicate it, right? Stopping…this is the right thing to do.”

He nodded finally, then stooped to pick up his shirt. He tugged it on, and it seemed to be happening in slow motion, as if time wanted to give Brooke one more chance to ask him to stay.

She stiffened her spine and walked past him, turning down the entry hall to the doorway. “Thanks for bringing the wine. I really appreciate it.”

He walked toward her, and she opened the door before he could do or say anything that would threaten her resolve. If he could. She was so conflicted right now, so agitated, that she didn’t know if he could persuade her to go back to where they’d been five minutes ago.

“You’re welcome.” He walked over the threshold then turned around to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

He frowned briefly, but the creases on his brow stayed. “I’m not sure I believe you. But it doesn’t matter. It was your turn to be the cool head of reason.”

Relieved that he wasn’t angry, she relaxed her muscles.

“I wonder, though,” he continued. “Who’s going to do that next time? I’m not sure I’ve got it in me.” He gave her a half-smile. “See you later.”

As she watched him go, she wasn’t sure she had it in herself either. Which meant they’d have to stop meeting alone like this. No more visits to each other’s homes. She’d tell him that when she talked to him next.

She closed the door and locked it, then leaned back against it with a deep breath. Her body still thrummed with desire, and her mouth was still imprinted with his kiss.

She didn’t doubt that she’d missed out on what would’ve been a great night. But it had been the right thing to do. She’d just keep telling herself that until she completely believed it.

In an attempt to clear her head, she went to the case of wine he’d brought in and looked through the variety. No chardonnay. Damn. She would run out this week, which meant she’d have to pick up more. She’d arrange for him to put some aside at the winery, and then she’d drop by when she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be there.

This plan made her feel better. It gave her hope that they could continue this work thing without falling into each other’s arms.
 

But would that be so bad? What’s the worst that could happen? They’d have sex and things would become awkward? They were already there.

Hell, put like that, she was tempted to call him and invite him back over. But the shadow of that pesky question, “Are you on birth control?” hovered at the back of her mind. It was stupid. She didn’t have to tell him about her infertility. Like Rhonda had said, it wasn’t as if they were in this for the long-term.

She closed her eyes and groaned.

The other thing Rhonda kept telling her was also true—she so needed to get laid. Their mom had sent over the blind date’s phone number yesterday. His name was Justin Weber, and she could text him right now.

Before she lost her nerve, she picked her phone up off the table and brought up his contact. She typed out a message introducing herself—he knew she had his number—and asked if he wanted to get together for a drink this week.

She tossed her phone back down, not expecting to hear back. She was surprised when it immediately pinged. Picking it back up, she quickly read his response: Sounds great. How about tomorrow night?

Wow, so soon. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do that…but why? The sooner she made this leap, the better. She typed in her answer.

Sure, seven? How about Grape Central?

That was a wine bar in downtown McMinnville, where he lived. She didn’t want to meet here. Ribbon Ridge was too small. Was she afraid they’d run into Cam? Again, she was being so stupid.

His response came fast. Perfect. See you then.
 

Mom had texted a picture of him with her friend—his aunt—so Brooke would be able to find him. She didn’t know if he’d received a picture of her and didn’t ask. She was suddenly exhausted.

She decided to take a long hot bath. And maybe find her waterproof vibrator.

C
am walked into Hazel, one of Newberg’s best restaurants a few nights later, anticipating a fun evening of good food, lively conversation, and excellent wine from some of the area’s top producers. He was also anticipating possibly running into Brooke, and he just wasn’t sure how that would go.

There’d been radio silence since their aborted lovemaking session on Sunday, but he wasn’t surprised. What could they say that hadn’t been said?

How about, screw the work thing and let’s just have sex?

Because, really, could things get any worse than they were? They tiptoed around the elephant in the room and despite their best intentions couldn’t seem to help themselves. If he saw her tonight, he’d do his level best to say hi and move on. Hayden would be here soon, and he’d be an excellent distraction.

Cam made his way to the bar and picked up a glass of pinot from one of his favorite winemakers. When he turned, he nearly bumped into Kyle Archer.

He grinned. “Hey, Cam, good to see you. What’re you drinking?”

“Hey, Kyle.” Cam held up his glass, swirling the dark ruby pinot. “A. F. Nichols.”

“Oh, he’s great.” Kyle nodded toward the bartender. “Same for me, please.”

The bartender nodded back. “You got it.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Cam said. “Shouldn’t you be home massaging your wife’s feet or something since she’s about to give birth?”

Kyle picked up his wine. “Yep. Phone’s in my back pocket with the sound jacked up way too high, but I keep checking it anyway. I’m so excited, but nerve-racked as hell at the same time.”

Cam sipped his wine. He couldn’t identify, of course, but he recalled his half-brother Dylan feeling the same way before his daughter, Emma, was born. “Let me know if you need help busting out of here in a flash. She’s got a bag packed, right?”

Kyle laughed. “In the car. We’re more than ready. Maggie’s so done being pregnant in the middle of summer.”

“Yeah, it’s been really hot this week.” It had been in the nineties every day, which made Cam’s current getup of slacks and a long-sleeve shirt rather stupid. But Cam didn’t sacrifice looking good for comfort. At least not often. And he’d at least rolled up the sleeves to his mid-forearm. “I can’t imagine how Maggie must be feeling.”

“She was going to come with me tonight but decided it just wasn’t worth putting on shoes.” Kyle leaned toward him. “I should probably go home and give her a foot massage.”

Cam chuckled and raised his glass. “To being the sperm donor instead.”

Kyle lifted his wine. “Hear, hear. But don’t let them hear us say that.” He took a drink. “Actually, you don’t have to watch yourself, free-agent man. Think you’ll ever settle down?”

Cam shrugged. “Don’t have any plans to.”

“Right.” Kyle nodded, likely recalling whatever story he’d heard regarding Cam and Jennifer. Since Hayden was Cam’s best friend as well as Kyle’s brother, Cam imagined Kyle had to know something. “You know, no one ever saw me settling down,” Kyle said.

“No one ever saw you coming back to Ribbon Ridge,” Cam said wryly. Kyle had taken off for several years, during which he’d mostly cut ties with everyone here. After one of the Archer septuplets killed himself, Kyle had come home. Then he’d shocked everyone by falling in love with his deceased brother’s therapist. And now they were expecting their first kid. “You’re a testament to the unpredictability of life.”