Kamp’s fingers gripped her hip, and he rolled against her with a soft, gravelly rumble in his throat. Oh, dear goodness, he was sexy as sin.
His erection thickened and got harder and harder as he pressed it against her backbone. He eased off and then repeated. Hungry man must’ve been a morning person. She rocked with him, slid her arm back and around his neck to keep him close. A soft groan emanated from him, and her stomach clenched with need.
They moved together faster, and when his lips touched the sensitive spot right beneath her ear, she became lost and let off a long moan. “Please,” she begged.
Kamp’s fingertips trailed across her hip and then down to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up and cupped her sex. It felt so good to have him touching her. And if this was the last time she ever saw him, she wanted to actually feel like she was living tonight. He slid two fingers inside her just as he bit down on the side of her neck gently and, oh, she was gone. Eyes closed to the world as he moved with her, hitting her just right when his fingers went deep. Over and over, faster, as she moved her hips and helpless sounds escaped her. There was a rattle against her back, but it wasn’t a growl. It was a satisfied sound that revved her up even more.
Her body tingled for release as he pulled her harder against his dick with each stroke.
“Fffffuck,” he murmured, shoving his pants down his thighs.
“Kamp, right there,” she whispered desperately as she pressed his hand tighter between her legs.
He bucked fast and hard now, so thick against her back, until suddenly her body shattered around his fingers. When she cried out in ecstasy, Kamp pulled her tightly into his chest. Against her back, his dick throbbed, and warmth spread over her skin in waves as he gritted out her name.
They moved against each other until they were both sated. Until every aftershock was done. Until they were both limp, breath matching each other as he hugged her up tight on the couch.
She didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to clean up, didn’t want his finger out of her. And he seemed to feel the same because they stayed just like that, all warm and safe and happy, silent in the dark.
And Kamp, the untouchable man, let her in a little more. “I like being around you,” he whispered.
She smiled and snuggled back into his arms, nestled her cheek against his arm. “I like being around you, too.”
Victory.
Chapter Seven
As she walked away from the trailer park, Remi only looked back once. It’s all she would allow herself. The first gray and orange dawn light was streaking across the horizon, and everything was serene. This was probably the witching hour for this Crew, the only moments of peace this place knew.
Her gaze stayed glued on Kamp’s trailer, and such a feeling of emptiness washed over her. Why? She’d gotten the break she needed here, and her bear was happy and calm inside of her. She’d felt happy in a time of turmoil. So why did looking at his trailer make her feel like a wrecking ball had made a huge hole right through her?
Maybe she would come back and tell Kamp in person. Maybe if she could fix his life, she would be brave and come back, tell him face-to-face. If she could pull this off, she wanted to be there for that smile. And she was a believer in good things happening to good people with enough effort. If she believed it enough, worked long enough, it would happen.
She gripped the handle of her suitcase and made herself turn away, made herself walk through the tree line and down the trail with no more looking back. Why did she feel like crying? She was doing something good for someone. She should feel fulfilled, not sad.
The second she cleared the trail into the parking lot, it was obvious her rental car wasn’t going anywhere. The two tires on the right side were totally flat.
In ripped-up jeans and a stained, threadbare Bud Light T-shirt, Rhett leaned against a tree. He wore a smirk on his face. “Whoops,” he said in a voice that said he wasn’t remorseful even a little bit.
Remi stomped over to the car and ran her fingers over the slash marks in the tire. “Why did you do this?” she asked.
“That’s like asking a beaver why it chews wood. Because I fucking wanted to.”
“But why?” she asked louder, rounding on him.
Rhett shrugged and looked bored.
Self, don’t kill him. You’d look awful in prison-suit orange.
Remi breathed out slowly to calm the boiling rage in her blood, and then she made her way over to the white jacked-up Chevy on the edge of the trees.
“What are you doing?” Rhett asked.
Yep, that told her this was definitely his truck and not Kamp or Grim’s.
“You have one day to return that rental car to the airport,” she called, running her fingers under the front right wheel well.
“Or else what?”
“Or you’ll have Beaston up here doing it.”
A snarl sounded, but she ignored it. No spare keys in the wheel wells of the left-hand tires either. Remi hoisted her suitcase into the bed and yanked open the door, got in, and then slammed it closed beside her. Then locked it. “Keys, keys, where are them keeeeeeys,” she sang softly as she searched the glove compartment and the cupholders.
“They aren’t in there!” Rhett called out.
But when she pulled down the driver’s side sun visor, a pair fell out.
“Shit,” he muttered from right outside the window. Attached to the keyring was a small musical instrument. “Is this a rape whistle?”
“These are very dangerous times!” he yelled, jingling the locked door. “Get out of my truck.”
“Shouldn’t have slashed my tires, Rhett.” She turned on the truck and revved the engine, smiling grandly at him through the window. “Bye bye now.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” he said in quick succession as she pulled a wide circle toward the road that would lead her down the mountain and into town. And as she picked her way to the mouth of the road, she heard him admit something that made the emptiness inside her even bigger.
“I wanted you to stay!”
Chapter Eight
Kamp eased one eye open. There was a single sunray beaming him in the eyeball. Stupid sun. Wait…sunlight?
He sat upright and scrambled to check the time on his phone. 8:03 am.
“Oh, shit!” he croaked, bolting from his couch bed. “Remi? Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, sprinting to the bedroom. The bathroom light was on, but as he skidded past, no one was in there. Wait, hold up…what?
He shoved the door open wide and searched the small bathroom. She really wasn’t in there. “Remi?”
No answer.
“Remington!” he called out as he searched the bedroom next. “Novak!”
No answer.
She probably went back to 1010 to shower or something.
Frown hurting his face, he made his way outside and to 1010, but he could tell right away she wasn’t in there. The trailer park just felt…empty.
“What the hell?” he murmured as he made his way back into his mobile home. She hadn’t even said goodbye. Wait…there was a folded piece of journal paper on the coffee table near his phone.
The stiff paper crinkled as he unfolded it.
Dear Kamp,
You weren’t anything I expected, but you were the best surprise. Lunch is in the fridge. Work hard today. Finish your shift. Feel good about the accomplishment, even if you don’t think it’s a big deal. Last night was fun, and I’ll never forget it. For a lot of reasons. Don’t forget me either.
Remi
p.s. You made me happy for a little while. That is a big deal to me. Thank you.
A goodbye letter? Full of disappointment, Kamp crumpled the letter and chucked it at the wall. He didn’t do this. He didn’t sleep with random women. It wasn’t a relief to him that she’d done her leaving without him making her breakfast and staring at her pretty freckles for a few more minutes. He wasn’t ready to be left. Again. Wasn’t ready to be separated from her. He wanted more time!
“Fuck!” he yelled, his insides sagging with regret.
Kamp scrubbed his hands over his hair and then made his way to the wadded-up letter. He stared at it for a three-count and then stooped, picked it up, unfolded it, and read it again. He’d made her happy for a little while, and now she was gone.
