The Pucking Wrong Man: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 4)

“They can’t be serious,” snarled Alena, staring at the new announcement on the Company’s bulletin board.

When Madame Leclerc had said prices were rising, she hadn’t been exaggerating.

This was…this was insane.

I’d never heard Alena complain about money before, so for her to be making note about it—I knew it was ridiculous on every level.

“That old hag. It’s like she wants all of us to quit.” Alena continued scowling at the board with her hands fisted at her sides, like if she stared hard enough, the figures on the paper would magically change.

Finally, she sighed and stepped away, shaking her head before she glanced at me. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about it. Not with that fancy pants hockey player you’re dating.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like that,” I quickly said. “I would never ask him to pay for me.”

She raised an eyebrow, like she thought I was crazy. “Why the hell not? If I got myself a rich guy, I’d be getting everything I could out of him.”

And that’s why you aren’t with a rich guy, I thought to myself. They can probably sense you a mile away and go running…

I realized she was waiting for some kind of answer, so I made a non-committal humming sound—which strangely seemed to work for her.

“So what are you going to do to pay for it?” she asked.

I sighed.

It was the question for the ages at the moment. Between the money I needed to pay Michael…and now this…it was all I could think about.

“I’m not sure what I can do. I can dance. That’s it. Our schedule doesn’t allow us to really do anything else.” The desperation I’d felt last night was inching up my throat just talking about it again.

Alena glanced up and down the hallway, like she was checking to make sure we were alone, and then she leaned in close. “I know a job that would work. It pays really well too. I’m doing it until I make the senior company…and even then it will be hard to let it go. The money’s too good.”

I eyed her curiously. “What kind of job is it?”

“A Gentlemen’s Club,” she said, a challenge in her voice like she expected me to judge her…or run away screaming because she thought I was such a goodie-two-shoes.

“You…strip?” I asked hesitantly.

She rolled her eyes. “I dance. It’s not so different from what we do here, ya know? Just with a little…less clothes. And if you remember that costume we wore last fall…it covers about the same amount.”

I remembered that costume. She’d had a point. I’d felt like I was dancing naked on stage the entire time. None of us had understood what Madame Leclerc had been thinking.

“I made two thousand dollars last night in tips alone,” Alena said proudly, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

My mouth dropped. “Are you…are you serious?”

She nodded with a smirk. “I could get you a job, you know. They’d eat you up. You have that whole angelic thing going on.”

I’d mentioned it to Camden because I had thought about it before. I thought about the easy money. How fast I could give Michael the money he wanted.

I couldn’t do it though.

I couldn’t become a cliché. My time to strip would have been when I was homeless. But not now.

Where I’d come from, every girl either died of an overdose, got pregnant, or started stripping.

There wasn’t really an in between.

My mother had done the first two.

I wasn’t going to do the last.

I also hadn’t spent years being upset and sick about Michael’s pictures and videos of me, just to throw it all to hell and have a bunch of men see all of my body anyway.

“Do they have any other jobs there?” I asked. I guess it was stupid of me, but I’d always just stayed away from those clubs, determined not to give in. It made sense that there would be other jobs there that could actually fit with my schedule.

And not make Camden upset.

“They have waitressing,” Alena said with a shrug, like she didn’t find that to be a very interesting option.

“Can you get me an interview for that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, cocking her head and studying me. “Are you sure, though, that you don’t want to try and dance? You won’t make nearly as much money.”

I nodded. “I’ll save that for the experts,” I told her.

She grinned and swung her hair around, a mimicry of one of her moves I was sure. “I consider myself as such.”

I laughed nervously, smoothing my own hair back into its bun. “When do you think I can interview?” I asked, feeling anxious to start making money—and to get it over with.

“Meet me after class. I happen to have a shift tonight.”

“Great,” I said nervously, and she winked at me as she walked away.

Camden

My phone buzzed in my pocket while I was spotting for Ari during weights.

I let go immediately to check and make sure it wasn’t Anastasia.

“Fuck,” Ari griped as the weight bar sunk to his chest.

“Whoops,” I said lightly. But I left him there for a second so I could check my text.

Anastasia: I have a job interview after class today, so I don’t need a ride.

I frowned, waiting for another text to come in, some more information.

“A little help over here,” Ari grunted. I glanced at him, annoyed, only to see that the weights were still stuck to his chest.

I’d better help with that.

I quickly heaved the bar up and set it on the rack.

“You trying to kill me, Hero? So the more handsome, more talented defenseman is out of the picture?” Ari asked, rubbing his chest with an indignant look on his face.

I rolled my eyes, glancing at my phone again when it buzzed.

But it was just some spam text advertising erectile dysfunction cream. I blinked at that. They had a cream for that?

“Something you want to tell us, Grandpappy?” Logan asked cheekily, reading my text over my shoulder.

I scowled at him. “Did you sign me up for this?”

He grinned unrepentantly and shrugged. “I figured you would appreciate it. You’re getting to that time in your life.”

“I hate you,” I snarled. “I’m doing just fine in that department, thank you very little.”

“‘Just fine’?” Ari said, clicking his tongue. “Not sure if that’s good enough. Especially if you want to keep your little ballerina.”

I picked up the weights and promptly dropped it.

He huffed as he caught it just in time. “Daniels, he’s trying to kill me. Help.”

Lincoln, for his part, ignored all of us as he continued doing his weighted lunges.

I typed out a text to Anastasia.

Me: Where’s the place? I can take you there. We can celebrate once you get the job

There were three text bubbles for a solid minute before she finally texted back.

Anastasia: I have a ride. Thank you, though. XO.

Alright…that wasn’t suspicious at all.

I glanced at the clock. She’d be out of class in an hour.

“You going to help me with this, or are you just going to stand there contemplating your existence?” Ari snarked.

“Do you want me to drop another weight on you?” I drawled absentmindedly as I went over where Anastasia could be going tonight that she didn’t want me to know about.

“Just make sure not to hurt his face. We’d never hear the end of it,” Disney commented as he started jump-roping.

“Or his dick,” Lincoln added, finally joining the conversation. “That would probably be even worse.”

Ari looked vaguely sick at that comment. “We’d better switch, Hero. Just in case you get some ideas.”

I huffed, but switched spots with him, so I could lift weights and think about Anastasia in peace.

The next hour ticked by painfully slow. I was tempted to go wait outside of the ballet studio, but I eventually figured I would just use the tracker to follow her to wherever she went.

“See you guys later,” I said finally, not really paying attention to whatever they said in return.

She was on the move.

Anastasia’s job interview was at a strip club.

I knew that fucking club. Nick and Matty, two players on the team, went there at least once a week.

Fucking hell.

I didn’t want my girl anywhere near that place. All of those men seeing her? I didn’t want them seeing her fully dressed…let alone with no clothes on.

What was she thinking?

I’D THOUGHT SHE’D BEEN JOKING THE OTHER NIGHT.

Okay…what to do.

Besides standing outside and waiting for her…something I was already doing…

I knew there was a lot of security inside, Matty had told us about being thrown out one night after he’d drank too much—so that ruled out going in and dragging her out.

I dialed the number for the club to see if I could get any information…or tell the employees they’d better not hire her or there would be hell to pay.

“Dolly Pockets,” a woman answered. She’d been smoking fifteen packs a day for the last forty years judging by the sound of her gravel-filled voice.

“Yes, hi. Can I speak to your manager,” I demanded in what I hoped was a very non-threatening and charming voice.

The woman had the nerve to snort at me. “You don’t think we get these calls all the time from jealous boyfriends? Fuck off, asswipe,” she snapped, hanging up on me.

I frowned. That was fair. But I liked to differentiate myself from these so-called boyfriends. I was Anastasia’s future husband after all.

And I wasn’t just doing it because I was jealous. It was because I would literally murder anyone who saw her dancing around a pole. Double murder if they saw a nipple.

Fuck.

I paced back and forth outside the club.

I waited.

And waited some more.

Had they fucking started her right away? It was seven p.m. for fuck’s sake. There were like ten other cars in the parking lot. Surely they weren’t that desperate for dancers.

I pulled out my phone and made a frantic text. The guys would tell me if I was being too crazy.

Me: If one wanted to make a large fire, what would one do?

Ari: What’s wrong with you?

Linc: Yeah, why are you talking like that?

Me: I’m not talking like anything.

Walker: You’re talking like you’re going to burn something down.

Me: What?

Linc: He’s obviously going to burn something down.

Ari: The question is what?

Ari: Hey look at us, Golden Boy, finishing each other’s sentences like true besties.

Walker: I finish sentences all the time.

Ari: Disney, you simp.

Me: This is the most helpful group I’ve ever been a part of. AND YES, I AM BEING SARCASTIC.

Walker: You literally asked us if we knew anything about burning something down. We didn’t know you wanted a real answer.

Ari: Ahh, Disney, you’re now talking in the royal “we” for the group.

Linc: That was very smart of you, Lancaster.

Ari: I know.

Me: I was just thinking that the circle of trust would know a little something about burning down a building.

Ari: What circle of trust?

Walker: Yeah, that was very un-circle of trust of you.

I huffed and then my phone was ringing.

It was Lincoln.

“Hello?” I asked, going for casual, even though Lincoln made me nervous.

“What are you burning down?”

“I’m not burning down anything. It was simply a research question—an innocent one—people ask their friends about things like this all the time.”

There was a long, exaggerated silence, and if this had been a text conversation, there would definitely have been a “…” involved.

“If I were to burn down a building…”

“Hypothetically…” I interjected.

He snorted. “If I were to burn down a building, hypothetically, I’d want to target areas where a fire could take hold easily. Maybe near the entrances or exits, where the airflow is strong, or in the storage room where there might be flammable materials. I’d make sure that all the cameras in the area were disabled first. I’d wear a disguise when I went to the building and start the fire from inside rather than outside. Hypothetically, though, I would hire someone to burn it down using a burner phone that was untraceable so that it could never be linked back to me.”

I blinked slowly, even though he couldn’t see me.

Because hypothetically…hiring someone was a lot better idea than doing it myself.

But also, he sounded like he’d put a lot of thought into that, and that was definitely something to think about.

“Do you…hypothetically need help with any of that?” Lincoln asked, so casually you’d almost think the golden god really was speaking hypothetically.

Before I could say anything, I got a text from him with a phone number. “Call that phone number…on one of those prepaid phones from the grocery store. Tell him what you need. You’ll be good to go,” Lincoln said before he hung up.

Alright then…that sounded like encouragement. But it didn’t solve the immediate problem of getting her out of there tonight.

Just when I was going to go barging in, she came out the side door, arms crossed in front of herself defensively as she stepped outside.

There was no way she hadn’t gotten that job. If I was a club owner, I’d be basing my entire show off her perfection, even if I hadn’t seen her dance.

And then when you saw her dance…

Well, I imagine whoever had interviewed her was probably seeing gold dollar signs floating in the air around her.

She took a few steps before stopping, her body going rigid as she slowly turned and saw me.

Gotcha.

Anastasia

I sensed him almost the second I’d walked out of that dark, seedy club.

Camden.

He was somehow here.

But…I actually wasn’t that surprised.

I locked eyes with him.

He looked like a dark god, his eyes glittering as he leaned against a shiny-black motorcycle in the shadows of the building—a motorcycle I didn’t even know he owned.

“Anastasia,” he said calmly, but it was like the calm before a storm. The final breath you took before the gun went off and the race began. “Come here.”

A frantic energy filled me, a need to explain…it wasn’t what it looked like, not really.

But I couldn’t seem to form words as I trudged toward him, my mouth dry like it was filled with cotton.

His silence was somehow more intense than if he had yelled. As soon as I’d gotten to the bike, he had a matte-black helmet on my head and was buckling it tightly.

A second later, I was astride the bike.

“Hold on,” he growled as he slipped in front of me, pulling my arms around him so that my hands were wrapped around his middle. Camden gunned the engine, and we sped off into the night.

It was freaking cold for a motorcycle ride. Not as cold of a night as it had been last week, but the icy wind still seemed to be taking chunks out of my face as we raced down the streets.

The ride seemed to last forever, and every mile that passed, the anticipation grew. Until I was trembling more from that than the cold whipping at my skin.

At last we pulled into the building. Camden still didn’t say anything as he lifted me off the bike and led me toward the elevator.

“Camden—” I began once we’d gotten inside the doors.

“I suggest you don’t say anything right now, little dancer,” he murmured in the velvety tone that I’d learned was his most dangerous tone of all.

“I just wanted to explain that I wasn’t⁠—”

Before I could get out another word, I was against the mirrored glass of the elevator, my cheek pressed against the cool wall. Camden crowded me, his lips brushing against my ear as he liked to do when he really wanted me to pay attention.

“You went somewhere unsafe tonight. You tried to hide it from me. You put yourself in a situation where other men could think they could have you. You are in so much fucking trouble, Anastasia.”

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked as the doors opened into the penthouse.

“Tonight, sorry’s not good enough.”

He pulled me by my hand into the darkened living room before abruptly letting me go and sitting in one of the tufted armchairs.

“You wanted to dance tonight, little dancer. So dance.” He pressed a button on his phone, and a second later, “Guilty as Sin” was playing from the built-in-speakers.

I stood there awkwardly because, technically, I hadn’t gone there to dance.

“Now,” he said roughly, and I jumped at the intensity of his tone.

Fine, I could play along. I had really messed up. If a dance was what he wanted—a dance I could give him.

I closed my eyes and let the rhythm take over, moving through me, guiding me. I finally opened them and met Camden’s stare across the room, his gaze intense, unblinking. I could see the heat in his eyes, the way they followed every movement I made.

I took a step forward, rolling my hips to the beat, my hands trailing down my sides. His lips parted slightly, and the muscle in his jaw tensed.

I turned slowly, arching my back, letting my hair fall over one shoulder as I moved. Every step, every sway of my hips was deliberate, meant for him. I could feel his eyes on me, burning with a mix of lust and admiration. It was intoxicating to know I had his full attention.

“Anastasia,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely audible over the music.

I didn’t respond with words, just with my body. I spun around, the music lighting up my veins, my movements fluid and sensual. I could see the way his hands gripped the armrests, his knuckles white. He was trying to control himself, but I could see the struggle in his eyes.

As the chorus hit, I dropped to my knees, crawling toward him, my eyes never leaving his. His breath hitched, and I could see the tension in his body, the way he leaned forward, unable to stay still. I reached him, my hands sliding up his legs, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his jeans.

He exhaled sharply, his eyes dark with desire. “Anastasia,” he said again, his voice strained.

I stood up slowly, my body brushing against his, and turned around, pressing my back against his chest. His hands came up, almost instinctively, to rest on my hips, his touch sending sparks through me. I leaned back into him, feeling the solid strength of his body against mine.

The music slowed, and I turned to face him, straddling his lap. His eyes were locked on mine, filled with a mix of need and awe. I could feel his heartbeat against my own, a rapid, shared rhythm. I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear.

“Did you like it, Daddy?” I whispered then, my breath hot against his skin.

There was a pause, and his lips moved toward mine. He was finally going to give me what I wanted—what I needed…

A second later, I was across his lap, my ass in the air.

Thwack.

“What do I want you to say, baby girl?” he growled as his hand left my ass cheek.

“What?” I groaned, shocked and aroused by what had just happened.

Thwack.

“You know the words.”

Thwack.

I blinked, trying to clear my clouded mind. Oh…I did know.

“Brats get spanked,” I cried out quickly as soon as the words had crossed my mind.

“Good girl.”

A second later, I was ripped off his lap. He was moving me easily, like I was nothing but a rag doll.

“Now that you’ve danced, we’re going to move to the second part of the evening you had planned tonight,” he rasped darkly. “Where you strip.”

Before I could wrap my mind around what was happening, or what had already happened, the leggings and blouse I was wearing were ripped off, leaving me in nothing but my bra and underwear. Camden snapped the side of my thong, and I flinched at the pop of pain.

“It makes me crazy to think that anyone else would get to see this,” he growled. “It’s mine.” Yanking me toward him, I followed, like I wasn’t in control of my body anymore. He arched me backwards and bent forward, trailing his tongue over my underwear, pressing into my core and growling as he breathed me. The wet spot on my thong grew as his tongue pressed into my clit through the fabric.

“Mine,” he growled again before sliding his tongue and mouth higher, around my belly button and the rest of my abdomen until he was leisurely licking across the globes of my breast.

My breath was coming out in gasps. My chest heaving against his lips.

Pop.

Camden ripped open my bra, and my breasts spilled out. He buried his face in between them, kissing and biting and licking until I was a writhing hopeless mess.

“I warned you, Anastasia,” he said, lightly biting my nipple and making me gasp. “I told you who you belonged to. But you don’t seem to have gotten it yet. I. Don’t. Share.”

“I wasn’t…” I half-heartedly tried to tell him one more time, but then his hand was sliding between my legs, his fingers pushing under the thong and into me. My body buckled forward—my whole being on sensory overload.

“You’re going to scream, you’re going to come…and you might even pass out. And then maybe my little brat will finally learn her lesson.”

“Mmmh,” I moaned as three of his fingers plunged in and out of me.

He abruptly pulled out. “On your knees,” he ordered roughly.

“What?”

“I’m too pent up, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re going to help me take the edge off before I take you,” he growled as he pushed me to the floor. I stared up at him desperately, and for a brief moment, his intensity broke, and I could feel his love for me pouring out of him and coating my skin.

He blinked, and his dark intensity was back. Tangling my hair in his fist, he pulled my head back as his other hand expertly undid his jeans and pulled out his enormous, rigid cock.

My mouth watered for it and he shook his head, smirking as he brushed the head of his swollen dick against my lips. “You want my cock, don’t you, my little brat? It makes you wet to swallow my cum.”

I moaned in agreement, and he shook his head at me, a smug grin stretched across his beautiful face.

“Well, this isn’t for you this time. This is just for me.” He thrust his dick deep into my throat until I gagged. Using the hand in my hair to keep me still, he fucked my mouth roughly, his delicious pants filling the room.

“You can take more,” he said sternly, pushing down my throat until I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were watering as his thrusts somehow grew faster. I couldn’t help but whimper around his cock, and I was rewarded with his loud moan as he pulled out, his hot cum spraying my chest and the bottom of my chin.

He hadn’t even let me taste him.

Camden’s chest was heaving, his cock still hard and angry looking, like he hadn’t actually come at all.

“You’re still hard,” I gasped, wiping at my face.

“I’m always hard nowadays,” he said, sounding angry about it. “I could fuck you every second of every day and still not get enough of you.”

Warmth shot through me at his admission, but before I could think too much on it, Camden had flipped me around and was pushing me down to the ground on all fours.

“Lift up,” he growled, tapping my injured leg. A second later he’d slid a soft blanket under it. “You will tell me if this is too much.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, and then my thong was ripped, the cold air brushing against my pussy as he lined up his dick and lunged forward until his entire length was sheathed inside me.

I gasped at the fullness, falling to my forearms, my back arched, as he fucked me fast and hard in a brutal pace.

Thwack!

His hand spanked my ass, and I came around his cock, a cry ripping from my lips.

“That’s one,” he growled, and my eyes widened because I wasn’t sure if he was talking about spanks or orgasms.

He kept going, his dick having some kind of superpower because his thrusts never let up, his fingers slipping over my clit at intervals, forcing orgasms when I wasn’t coming fast enough for his liking.

Camden spanked me at random, no rhyme or rhythm, catching me off guard every time.

And I came relentlessly. So often that I lost track, that time lost all meaning.

I was nothing but sensation and pleasure, sparks of pain only adding to the experience. The world around me grew blurry and discolored, my cries changing into hoarse gasps as I lost my voice.

And still he fucked me, in every position imagineable. Until my vision darkened, and eventually I lost consciousness.

I woke to him gathering me up in his arms, cradling me against his body as he walked down the hall. I could feel his cum inside of me, sliding down my thighs as we moved. His voice was gentle and soothing as he laid me down on the bed. I briefly passed out again, only coming back when he soothed my aching pussy with a warm washcloth.

“I love you, baby girl,” he murmured…and then I was out again, slipping into a blissful, deep, dreamless sleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling like I had a hangover. The room felt too bright, my head felt dizzy and out of sorts, and my body was sore…especially between my legs.

It was the good kind of pain, though, like after a workout, and something was settled in my chest, something that had felt broken before and I hadn’t even realized it.

Rolling over, I wasn’t surprised at all that Camden was dressed, laying next to me, his head propped up on his arm as he watched me.

“I kind of feel like you’re my stalker at this point,” I croaked, and he grinned unrepentantly.

“I’m pretty sure I am.”

I took him in, still as amazed as I was the first day I saw him that I was in this beautiful man’s presence. I wasn’t sure that even time would be able to make that fade. He was just too perfect, all my favorite features in one sensational package.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his gaze roaming over me like he could see under my skin.

“Sore,” I admitted, ‘And I feel like I’ve been crying for hours or something…but I feel good.”

“If I was too rough—” he began.

I reached out and grabbed his shirt, shutting him up. “I loved it,” I told him honestly. “I’ll never forget it…I want…I want more.”

His eyes glimmered. “I have no doubt that your inner brat will rear her head and that will happen again.” I wrinkled my nose in response, and he huffed. “I bet you’re already thinking of the next thing you can do to drive me crazy.”

I sobered at the reminder. “I wasn’t going there to apply to be a dancer,” I told him, finally getting the words out that he wouldn’t let me last night. “I was just going to waitress. They have hours that fit into my schedule, and the pay’s really good.” Even as the words came out, I felt like I was convincing myself just as much as him. I really didn’t want to work there. Every inch of the place had been smoke-filled and dark, and the man I had interviewed with had leered at me and said inappropriate things the entire time. I doubted I could last even a week there.

“I can’t handle you working there, in any capacity,” Camden told me fiercely, last night’s madness flickering in his gaze. “I’ll go insane. I’ll have to camp out there, gouge out the eyes of anyone inside. Do you know how crazy I would get if someone tried to grab you like they do all the time in those sorts of places?” He shook his head. “I would have to kill them.”

I scoffed at his ridiculousness—but he didn’t laugh.

He stared at me for a moment before his chin stiffened, and a hard glint came to his eyes. “I need you to explain why it’s so important that you get a job, why you won’t let me take care of you. It’s not like you aren’t working hard every single fucking day. Too hard in fact. Nothing about you is lazy, or a user. Nothing!”

He reached out and pushed a piece of hair out of my face. “So tell me why you won’t let me help you. Why you won’t let me take care of you…something I’m desperate to do.”

My gaze dropped, and I stared at the soft sheets, tracing them lightly with the tips of my fingers. It was hard for me to talk about this. I never had—with anyone.

“For as long as I can remember,” I began haltingly, “the men in my life have felt like they were owed something. Like anything they did to provide for me…or my mother went on an invisible list that they kept careful records on. My earliest memory is of my mother and father arguing, my father screaming at her that she owed him for the work he put in every week. Like taking care of me wasn’t enough for him.”

I sighed, my hand flattening on the sheets as I took a deep breath. “She left soon after that. She left me. And then I was the one who owed my dad something.”

I finally glanced up at his face, instead of the pity I thought for sure he would have, there was just patience…and understanding, like everything was becoming clearer to him.

“It continued after that. After…after my dad hurt me, and I got placed with the Carvers, they never let me forget how generous they were. How I literally owed them everything for taking me in. How they had to help me pay for dance after I lost my scholarship. Michael was especially keen on reminding me how much I owed them.”

I took a deep shuddering breath, hoping he was really getting it.

“All my life, the people around me have made me feel like I’m a burden, that anything they give me comes with a price. I…I don’t want it to be like that with us. I never want you to feel like I’m using you, that I’m not here for the right reasons. Especially when there’s such a gap between who you are and…me.”

It’s why I still can’t tell you everything, a voice inside me cried.

I couldn’t look at him then. I tore my eyes from his face and stared at the sheets again.

“I would die if you ever felt like that. If you ever told me I owed you for the love that you’ve given me,” I whispered.

Camden’s fingertips grazed the side of my face, and then he was softly moving my chin up so I had to look at him.

“It seems like me promising I’d never feel that way won’t convince you…yet. So, how about I promise you that I will tell you if I ever start to? Will that work for you, baby girl? Will you at least give me your trust that I will do that?”

I studied him, my mind filled with all that had happened the last few weeks. All the things he had said, all the things he had done.

It was shocking when it hit me. I had spent all this time telling myself I couldn’t trust him, but it wasn’t true.

I did trust him. More than I had anyone else. How careful and gentle he’d been with me from the start. How he’d waited for me to fall in love with him. How he’d already done so much for me without asking for anything.

How sure I was that he really loved me.

“Okay,” I whispered, and his eyes widened.

“Okay, what?”

“I believe you. I…I trust you.”

His eyes closed and he let out a sigh, and then he was reaching out and pulling me to him.

“Will you let me take care of you? Let me help you work toward your dreams. Trust that I will tell you if I ever start to resent that.”

I took a deep breath, because this was big. This was giving him…the final piece of me. The piece that he could use to destroy me completely.

“Yes,” I finally whispered. “I will.”

Camden kissed me softly and then laid us both down. “Get a little more rest for me, baby girl,” he murmured as I nuzzled into his shirt, breathing him in. “I’ll take care of everything…’