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Cam sighed but gave in. “Fine. You want a cup of tea?”
I nodded and followed him into his kitchen, trying to keep my eyes on anything but his muscled shoulders and tight ass. I didn’t try very hard.
Standing by his kitchen counter, I was lost in thought about the evening ahead of us as Cam made the tea and coffee, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I glanced toward it and nearly had full-on heart failure at the size of the spider clinging to Cam’s kitchen tiles.
“Oh, my God!” I squealed, skittering back away from it, a lump of fear in my throat the size of Canada.
“What—what?” Cam spun around, his eyes wide on me.
I stared round-eyed at the spider. “Get rid of it or I won’t be able to move.” I wasn’t kidding. I was literally frozen with fear. I don’t know where my phobia of spiders originated, but it was bad enough that we had to invest in spider repellents that plugged into the sockets in our flat.
We got the rare few spiders nevertheless and Cole always took care of them.
Cam looked from me to the spider and then back to me again. I could see the beginning of a smile start to curl the corners of his mouth.
“Don’t even think about laughing. It’s not funny.”
His gaze softened as he seemed to finally realize the extent of my fear. “Okay. Stop panicking.
I’ll get rid of it.” He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a pan.
I scowled. “What are you doing? Don’t kill it!”
Cam froze, cocking his head in bemusement as he gazed at me. “Why don’t you want me to kill it? I thought you were frightened of it.”
“I am terrified of it.” I corrected him. “But what does it say about humans as a species if we go around killing things just because we fear them?” Not anything good, that’s what.
Cam’s gorgeous eyes warmed even more and I found myself forgetting the fear and falling into his gaze.
“What?” I whispered, feeling my chest swell at the way he was looking at me. No one had ever looked at me like that before.
He shook his head. “Nothing. You just . . . Nothing.”
“Cam?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“The spider.”
He blinked a little rapidly before pinning the spider with his gaze. “Right.” He lifted the lid of the pan. “I’m not killing it. I just needed something to put it in.”
As he rescued the spider from me and me from the spider, I crammed myself into the corner of the kitchen, scared that Cam wouldn’t move quickly enough and the spider would somehow launch itself across the room at me. I had no reason to fear. Cam had the spider in the pan in record time and I watched with growing relief as he took it to the kitchen window and deposited it outside.
“Thank you,” I breathed.
Cam didn’t reply. Instead he shut the window carefully, put the pan by the sink, and turned around to gaze at me.
Suddenly the air felt electric between us, like it always did while we worked side by side at the bar. I’d done my darndest to make sure those moments were confined to the bar, trying to feign ordinary interaction outside in the real world.
Today there would be no feigning.
I held my breath at the intensity in Cam’s eyes as he slowly began to make his way toward me.
When he closed the distance that would be considered socially acceptable between two friends who both had partners, I was just about to question him, stall him, but then my breasts brushed his chest and the words got sucked right back into my mouth along with all the air in the room. I felt his hands in a gentle embrace around my upper arms, his aftershave familiar and intoxicating, and the heat of his body made mine languid. I hadn’t been able to meet his eyes, and so I was looking at his throat when he leaned in and pressed the sweetest kiss to my forehead. A yearning, deep and expanding, burst open in my chest and I melted into him, feeling his lips chase a delicious shiver across my skin. He replaced his mouth with his own forehead. I closed my eyes as he closed his and we rested against one another, breathing each other in. I was filled with such longing, a longing only intensified because I knew it was reciprocated.
“Cam,” I whispered, wanting him to pull away and needing him to never leave.
He groaned and gently slid his forehead down the side of mine, his nose skimming my cheek, following my jaw, and coming to rest in a nuzzle against my throat.
I held my breath, waiting.
His hot lips touched the skin there. One brush. Two.
And then I felt the wet, erotic touch of tongue and I shuddered, falling against him. My nipples pebbled against my thin shirt, begging him to go further.
A sharp, piercing ringtone shattered the air between us and I jerked back, coming to my senses.
Cam cursed, his jaw clenched so tight it was close to shattering. He reached for his phone on the counter beside us and then blanched as he read the caller ID. He shot me an unfathomable look.
“Becca,” he stated grimly.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Down London Road"
by .
Copyright © 2013 Samantha Young.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Publishing Group.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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