My hands roam up and down her legs while she sits on her counter, a glass of red wine in one hand and a Twinkie in the other. “Why were you so nervous?” I ask, kissing her collarbone now exposed after I unbuttoned her blouse, leaving her in the white camisole underneath and that damn skirt still on like a chastity belt. “Hmm, well, other than to tell me how much of a tease I am, you haven’t talked to me since the draft. I was taking a risk that you were still even interested,” she says, ending with a bite of the cream-filled pastry. “I told you that I cared about you. Cami, you’re the only woman I’ve ever felt anything for.” Telling anyone else that, I would have felt pathetic, but with Camila, I know I can be brutally honest. She shrugs and kisses me softly. “Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d ever get past Blake and my relationship.” “Thought we weren’t talking about that,” I tease, giving her a wink. She sets down the wine glass and Twinkie, moving her hands to my shaved scalp and looking deep into my eyes.
