Sweet Like Revenge

41 - In the Midst of Chaos

Making out with Cameron was supposed to be a release. An outlet. It was supposed to be a way to definitively prove to myself that no, I absolutely, categorically, positively did not like Cameron Miller.

Quickly, it became an addiction.

A regular, two forty-five PM, back corner of the library addiction.

So I decided to succumb to inconvenient temptation in order to get it out of my system. Once, twice, as many times as it took to satisfy my cravings for forbidden fruit, to straighten out my clouded head and get the hell on with my mission.

As it turned out, entertaining my desire only strengthened it.

And when I found Cameron lingering in the back corner of the library on Thursday—scanning the shelves as if it was a book he craved, only to turn to me with his sweet eyes overcome with sinful impulse—I knew. He felt the same way.

That knowledge was dangerous. Because wanting and being wanted, I learned, was a deliciously chaotic mix. A mix that I had little experience with, that I didn't quite know how to handle.

And one that was incredibly distracting.

"I have to go," Cameron mumbled.

I caught his rueful smile with my swollen lips, ignoring the pain from the hard book piercing my back from the shelf behind me.

He lowered his hand to my waist, absorbing the prod of the jagged book end. "I have a meeting for the school paper in ten minutes."

"So we have nine more minutes."

He cradled my cheek, scanning my eyes intensely as he tried, but failed, to hide a devilish smile. "You're trouble."

It took everything in me not to laugh. "You have no idea."

But by the time his mouth was back on mine, his hands slipping down to my waist, the word had latched itself onto the walls of my mind. Trouble. It taunted every ounce of my fleeting happiness, reminding me that it wasn't real. That it couldn't be.

There was an undeniable conflict of interest in that dark corner of the library. A conflict between business and pleasure, between continuing with what I'd returned to do and staying stagnant, getting distracted. A conflict between Ana and Elle.

And that was a big problem.

I turned my head to break our kiss, averting his gaze so as not to get lured back into its compelling depths.

He nudged my cheek with his nose. "What is it?"

"Go."

He hesitated. Confusion radiated from him, his grip on me loosening while he dissected the request. I gave in to a soft smile, daring to glance up to wipe a smear of my lipgloss from the collar of his shirt.

"I'm not going anywhere," I reassured him.

Cameron brushed his cheek against my fingertips, his voice husky in a way I never imagined it could be. "I'll hold you to that."

I tilted my head. Cameron tilted his back. Before I could question why, he was reaching down to my hand. He brought it to his lips. And sucked that smear of lipgloss right from my finger.

I watched him, breath bated. My stomach curled as he drew my finger from his mouth, a band of shadow falling over his eyes. I swore they heated when he kissed the center of my palm.

"Strawberry," he declared. The softest smile tugged at his lips. "My favorite."

It took me a moment to realize he meant the flavor of my lipgloss.