Cameron Cole has a plan.
After yet another relationship ends because of certain shortcomings-literally-Cameron decides it's time to swear off dating and focus her energy into her junior year at the University of Charlotte. There's an internship up...
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Waking up in Wes' bed is always dangerous.
Dangerous because it's so damn cozy, I can convince myself to stay here forever.
Dangerous because it smells like him—fresh, clean laundry with a hint of his cologne—and I've started associating that smell with safety.
And, well, dangerous because it's his bed. And he's in it. Naked.
The sunlight filters in through the blinds, striping his broad, bare back in golden lines as he lies sprawled on his stomach beside me, one arm draped lazily across my waist and one large palm cupping the entire swell of my naked breast.
Because even in his sleep, he literally can't stop touching me.
His face is smushed into the pillow, and his blond hair is a complete mess, curling at the ends where it sticks out against the pillow.
He's too much. Always too much.
And yet, I find myself curled into his side like it's my favorite place in the world.
Because it is.
Last night plays on a loop in my head, a mix of laughter and heat. We spent the evening at his place after yet another exhausting day of college chaos for me and hours of drills at practice for him.
I stopped by his place after a day that would've tested the patience of a saint.
Deadlines, professors, group projects from hell—it was a lot. I was so damn close to having a Britney-level breakdown when Wes texted: Come over, baby.
And like a total sucker, I did. Because even when I know I shouldn't, I always do.
We started on the couch.
Me with my feet in his lap while we shared a box of takeout and pretended to watch whatever NFL game he had on. But then his hand started inching higher up my leg, and the next thing I knew, we were stumbling into his bedroom, tangled in each other like we couldn't get close enough.
Wes is a goddamn menace, and I'll gladly die on that hill. He's infuriating, cocky, and absolutely addicted to testing my self-control. He kisses me like he knows exactly what buttons to push, and he holds me like it's the only thing in the world he wants to do.
It pisses me off how good he is at making me forget myself.
And now here I am, a complete puddle in his bed, fully wrapped in his golden boy energy.
Halloween night wasn't a fluke.
The jealous sex in the backseat of his truck wasn't a fluke.
The past two months haven't been a fluke either.
It's been there this whole time. Ever since that night I asked him to whip it out on that damn porch.
I'm falling for Wes. So damn hard and so damn fast.
