Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I think Cameron’s going to say something, maybe introduce herself, but she doesn’t. She simply walks past, tugging her hair from the messy bun it was clipped up in.
I watch as it falls in long, tousled waves, the tips nearly touching the swell of her perfect, peachy ass, and I’ve got the sudden urge to tug on it.
To wrap it around my fist and pull just enough to—
My muscles lock, my frown instant.
No.
No, no.
I don’t want to do that to Cammie Girl.
I don’t.
Cameron walks past the group of girls staring at her, not all out of maliciousness, some seemingly just curious, and takes two buckets full of soapy water, tossing a sponge inside one. We all watch as she sets it on the open tailgate and hops right up. Taking the other bucket, she dumps it over the roof of the truck, flips it upside down, and climbs on top.
Then she leans all the way over in those goddamn underwear—fight me, that’s what they are—and starts scrubbing, hips swaying to the music that I’m suddenly tempted to turn off.
The girls are frozen for a moment, some looking over their own jean shorts and tops, and then they laugh, tearing their own clothes off and revealing bikinis hidden underneath.
“Yeah, ladies,” a few guys shout, clearly other AU students, and I decide they are the owners of the trucks. “Wash it real nice.”
Not a single one turns back to me, and a smile spreads across my lips.
I move over to the truck Cameron’s washing and hop up, sponge in hand, then crowd her from behind. “You’re, like, freakishly good at handling women.”
She smiles over her shoulder at me, big blue eyes bright. “Sometimes we just need a little inspiration. Now, you just gonna stand there, or you gonna help me wash this ugly-ass truck?”
I raise a brow and make a show of dipping my sponge in the water, and she smiles, spinning back around and getting to work. I take the sponge and, instead of scrubbing the window with it, swipe the soapy water across her sides.
She gasps at the cold, jumping down with a squeal, her wide eyes meeting mine. They narrow quickly, and then she’s on me, rubbing the sponge across my neck and chest.
I juke left, spinning until I’m behind her, and pick up the whole-ass bucket.
Her mouth drops open. “Don’t you dare!” she shouts, but there’s no venom behind her words.
I bite my lip, smiling, and lift the bucket up high.
She yelps, taking a chance and rushing forward, bending and slipping under the bucket until she’s pressed to my body, arms wrapped tightly around me, head tucked in, plastering herself to me.
“You really think that’s gonna save you?” I tease.
“No, but at least this way—”
I pour it over both our heads, and she shouts, trying to break free, but I tossed the bucket the second it was empty, and now I’m holding her to me.
She laughs, her body shivering a bit before she looks up.
Her hair is soaked, hiding one of her eyes completely, and the other is only just poking through.
Grinning, I push it out of the way, and she shakes her head with a low laugh.
“You’re an ass.”
“Oh, but, baby, I’m your ass,” I coo.
She slaps me on the arm, and I let her go, shaking my hair out as she finger-combs her own before making quick work of a braid.
“Careful, or I might make a scene and break up with you right here.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Her hands fall to her hips, and she raises an eyebrow.
My eyes accidently fall to her light pink sports bra and narrow to slits, but she spins before she notices.
Cameron turns once again, hopping down with our now empty bucket, but before she can reach the hose, I’m there, gripping her shoulders from behind.
“Cameron Hope Cox,” I drawl in a low, scolding tone with a hint of playfulness woven in. “What in the fresh hell did I just see?”
I can sense her confusion, and it takes her a moment, but she looks down to where the material of her top has softened a bit, revealing a dirty little secret behind it.
A dirty little secret that should not make me curious, yet here I am, wondering what exactly I’d find beneath the soft pink fabric because, I swear to God, it looks like two tiny toys right where her nipples would be.
She spins there, her eyes meeting mine, a small blush creeping up her neck, even if she does smile in response.
“Cameron.”
“Brady.”
“Tell me.”
She cocks her head. “And why would I do that?”
“’Cause what kind of boyfriend doesn’t know what’s under his girlfriend’s shirt?”
She leans in close, whispering teasingly, “A fake one.”
I frown and she laughs, giving up on filling her empty bucket and instead grabbing a new one.
She spins, and my eyes fall to her chest. “Come on, Boyfriend,” she calls out loud. “Let’s wash the headlights next.”