Chapter 33: Stand and Defend: Chapter 33

He’s been home for two days and won’t stop pacing. It’s driving me nuts. After Bryan’s scare the other night, I called the police, gave my statement, and filed an official report—per Cam’s insistence. I contacted my lawyer, who was happy to get the ball rolling on a protective order, and a temporary filing was put in place yesterday and will hold until it’s finalized. I haven’t heard any update yet.

When I enter the kitchen, Camden’s stirring a pot on the stove, whatever it is smells amazing.

“Whatcha making?”

“Marinara.”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at the gym today?”

“I had a virtual meeting with my trainer this morning and did my workout at home,” he mutters, placing a lid on the pot and turning down the flame on the burner.

“Camden.”

He spins around and leans against the counter, his eyes fixed on mine. “Jordan.”

“Stop. You’re overreacting. After he showed up, I realized I don’t care about revenge anymore, I simply want him to go away.”

He looks at me funny, and I realize this is the first he’s hearing of my plans. Oops.

“Whether you wanted it or not, you got your revenge. You’re happy without him. He underestimated your strength. You were the best thing he ever had, and it kills him to know you’re no longer in his control. But it also means he’s got nothing to lose.”

His phone dings. His fingers swipe across the screen, and he holds it up to show me the security camera outside. My stomach drops. “Overreacting?”

I freeze. Bryan’s face is on the screen, he’s at the gate, tapping the keypad. I look out the window, almost not believing he’s here. I look back at his phone screen. He’s still pushing buttons.

“Does he know the password?”

“I changed it after you moved in. I can’t understand how he got past the security station at the neighborhood entrance.”

“It might be the car. He’s driving the one I used when I first came here.”

“Shit, I didn’t think to notify them your vehicle changed.”

The speaker on his phone pipes up with Bryan’s voice, and it forms a knot in my throat. He looks directly into the camera with dead eyes and a smile. “I know she’s here.”

The blood drains from my face, Cam’s face does the opposite. His temples bloom red. He pulls the phone back, taps the screen, and heads toward the foyer.

I follow behind his heels. “Did you let him in?!”

“Wait in the house, Jordan.”

Moving quickly, I get in front of him and grab his arm. “Don’t! Tell him to leave. He plays dirty, Cam.” He delicately pries my fingers off him and looks down at me.

“So do I.”

We regard each other for a moment, and he swallows. It’s a mix of compassion, rage, and protectiveness. I’ve never seen him like this. Yet, even with all that anger, he’s still so gentle with me.

“Stay inside,” he says calmly before walking out.

I’m too afraid to look. I stand staring at the backside of the entryway. When I hear voices, I put my ear against the door to listen.

“I know she’s here.”

“Yeah, she is. What I want to know is what the fuck you’re doing here. And what you were doing here the other night.”

“I’m taking her home.”

“Wrong.”

“You need to stay in your lane. This is between her and I,” Bryan spits. “By the way, I saw the game. I saw what you did.”

“That’s nothing. You should have seen what else I did that night.”

The smile in his voice is audible, even through the door. He’s baiting him. Why is he being so stupid? This isn’t the time to be cocky. He’s going to make Bryan even angrier.

“Jordana is my fiancée,” he snarls.

Based on the footsteps, Camden crosses the porch and steps onto the brick driveway. Closer to Bryan, I assume.

“If she’s your fiancée—” He laughs. “Then why was I the one kissing her on your wedding day? And fucking her on your wedding night?”

I grit my teeth. What an asshole. Blood rushes through my ears with a mix of embarrassment and fury.

I hear a thud. Then a grunt. More thuds. Another. I open the door and can’t move. I’ve never watched a fight outside of hockey. Never up close, bare-fisted, and no gear on.

It’s not a movie, it’s happening in front of me. It’s ugly and gritty and . . . I like it. It’s satisfying to see Bryan’s body get pummeled, taking hit after hit. I enjoy watching Camden throw his fists into the man that put his hands on me.

“Go fuck yourself.” Bryan grunts.

Camden straddles his chest and throws a fist into his jaw, spraying blood across his pastel polo. I slap my hand over my mouth. I’ve never seen violence like this up close, but it’s terrifying to think how close I came to being attacked by Bryan.

“Why would I when I have your ex-fiancée to do it for me?” Cam says through gritted teeth. I nearly gasp.

“Cam, stop!”

“Hey, Sunshine . . .” He swings, Bryan blocks it, and he throws another, this time it connects. His voice is calm but winded as he wrestles with Bryan. He holds Bryan’s arms to the side and looks up at me. “Can you please stir the sauce on the stove, baby? I don’t want it to burn.” He’s clearly the stronger opponent.

I blink and step back as I process his request. He’s like a cat playing with his prey, keeping Bryan in place so he can bat him around—for amusement. It’s as if everything is happening in slow motion but too fast at the same time. Something is wrong with me, because watching him use his strength to hurt the man who hurt me, makes me wetter than ever.

Chicken Salad barks at the window, and it makes me jump. I slowly retreat inside to make the extra noise stop. What am I supposed to do, wait for him to kill Bryan? I walk back to the kitchen and pace. I don’t want to call the police because it’s obvious who is taking the harder hits. Shit, this could ruin his career. I hurry out of the kitchen; I’ll pull him off Bryan myself if I have to. Before I can get there, the front door opens and slams shut.

Cam stomps through the foyer and over to the kitchen sink, I can’t tear my eyes away from the blood on his hands. His knuckles are cut and swelling. I run outside, half expecting to see Bryan’s lifeless body on the lawn, but he’s nowhere in sight. I check the driveway to make sure his car is gone, and on my way back in, I notice something on the ground. A tooth.

What an idiot! I can’t believe he would be so reckless, it makes me want to punch him too! I pick it up and run back inside.

“You lost a tooth?!”

He laughs, looks back at me from the sink and runs his tongue over his teeth. Cam smiles at me, blood stains the corner of his mouth where his lip is split. “I didn’t lose a tooth.” He shrugs. “Bryan must have forgotten it here. Remind me to mail it to him.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns off the water and inspects his hands. “Fine. Nothing broken. Did you stir the marinara?”

“Who cares about the goddamn sauce, Camden! The cops are probably going to be here any minute, but yeah, let’s worry about fucking spaghetti sauce.” How can he act so cavalier?

“It’s marinara, it’s different. And no, they aren’t. Calm down.” He grabs the wooden spoon and stirs, the sauce hisses as he tries to scrape the charred tomatoes off the bottom of the pan. Cam turns off the stove burner. “It’s okay, I think we can salvage it.”

My jaw drops. I’m nearly shaking with an equal combination of worry and anger.

“Has anyone ever told you to calm down before?”

He smirks. “Only at every game I’ve ever played.”

“Then you know it has the opposite effect! Why don’t you think the cops are on their way to arrest you for battery?”

“You filed a report for stalking the other night, remember? They’re going to be watching him. The temporary protective order is in place. He’s not going to risk saying he came back here. And if he’s dumb enough to do that, I’ve got him on camera typing on the gate keypad. They can’t tell that I opened the gate for him. On video it looks like he was breaking in. He threw the first punch, I was defending myself.”

“You baited him.”

“Maybe a little.”

“And what if he still presses charges?”

“Let him.”

“You’re being reckless!”

This time when he spins around, all his anger rises to the surface. “No! What he did was reckless!” he booms.

I startle and raise my chin to him as he stalks closer. “This isn’t like hockey, you can’t beat people up like that!”

He scoffs. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen your games, you love throwing punches! Before you were captain, you spent half your time in the penalty box for slugging it out with the other team. I’m not an excuse to fight.”

He stabs his finger into his chest. “I’m an enforcer. That’s my job. It’s my job to protect my team on or off the ice.”

“Exactly! I’m not one of your teammates! I’m⁠—”

“I’m protecting you because I care about you, Jordan!” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck!”

He walks away but turns on his heel until he’s right in front of me. His still bleeding hands are shoved into my hair, then he crushes his lips to mine, walking me backward. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but the thought of him getting close to you terrifies me. I need to know you’re safe.”

The only thing that scares me is Cam getting injured. I wish things could be different between us. Why did I have to be engaged to such a monster? Why couldn’t it have been us the whole time? Why can’t I have him? He tugs at my pants, and I pull my shirt over my head, then unzip his fly, and grass and dirt stain the knees of his jeans.

His hand dives between my legs, and he groans. I’m so needy for him. He swipes his tongue over mine, shoves my back against the wall, and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before.

I’m a feminist until the day I die. I’ve never wanted to play the part of a weak, helpless woman. I’m no damsel in distress. But seeing his torn-up knuckles and thinking about the way he protected me today has turned me into a puddle.

He presses himself against my entrance before plunging deep. I gasp as his piercings rub my inner walls just right.

“You know that rush when I first push inside you?”

I nod as he thrusts. It’s my favorite.

“That is worth fighting for. It’s worth bloody knuckles. I will never make you feel the way he did. I will never try to control you or own you. But when my cock is inside you . . . I can’t help but feel like you’re mine.”

Instant butterflies. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him close as I swallow down emotion. His gaze brims with the most affectionate possession. When his fingers press into my sides and he works me up and down his length—he’s not fucking me, he’s worshipping me. At this moment, I want to be his more than anything.

He pumps inside me, and I can barely hold myself together. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the prick of tears.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers.

I’m unsure how to respond, so I don’t. He kisses my neck and works his way back to my lips again without once missing his rhythm. Every thrust is ecstasy. I love the way he makes me feel.

“Wrap your legs around me.” I lock my ankles behind his back, and he carries me to his bedroom.

Laying me down, he pulls out, kisses up my stomach, then unhooks and chucks my lace bra across the room. His forehead presses to mine while he sinks inside me. My mouth drops open, and the sounds of our bodies moving together is snuffed out. My world goes silent when his eyes bore into mine. Every second pushes me closer to the finish line, and my muscles pull taut.

“I’m going to come.”

“I know, Sunshine, me too.”

His hand slides up my neck, into my tresses, and his tongue skates across my lower lip. I sigh into his mouth. A hand snakes between us, and the way he’s rubbing my clit, his fingers don’t seem to be slowed by the injury to his hand.

“That’s it, baby. Let me have you. Cry for me.”

And I do. For the next ten seconds, I surrender to him. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, it’s enough to make me jackknife. He pushes me back down on the bed and wraps his hand around my neck. The exchange of power is filled with raw vulnerability. I willingly hand over what Bryan always took without asking. I trust Camden. Irrevocably.

His eyes darken as he holds me still while driving in and out. A smile forms on my lips as I focus on the sensation. He growls and thrusts hard, emptying himself and pressing his chest against mine. Our bare skin touching sends shivers down my spine. This is us.

My arms fall to my sides when I let go of his shoulders—and the emotional tether between us. I’m exhausted after releasing all the stress from Bryan’s unwelcome visit.

Slowly pulling out, wet and warm, he leaks out of me. He spreads my legs, admiring his handiwork. “Mm.” He pushes his thumb inside me and grabs a tissue to wipe away the excess. Damn.

“You wear my cum beautifully.”

He lifts the comforter and slides me underneath, climbing behind and wrapping his arms around my stomach, hauling my back to his chest. Thick, cotton sheets cradle us. His lips find my favorite spot between my neck and shoulder, and he rests them there, licking the small sensitive area. He knows exactly what I like.

“The things you said back there—” I say, wanting to know where he stands.

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“Why?”

“I got carried away.”

A long, drawn out silence sits between us. He regrets it. He got lost in the moment, coming off an adrenaline rush with Bryan, and I took it for more than it was. I lie there awkwardly. Not knowing how to respond.

“Come home with me for Thanksgiving,” he mumbles against my skin.

What the hell? No.

“I’m not going to meet your parents.”

“Why not? They’re cool people.”

I push out of his grasp and crane my neck to look back at him. He won’t talk about the things he said twenty minutes ago but now wants me to go home with him for Thanksgiving?

“Because it would be crossing a line.”

His arms circle my body, and he rolls me on top of him. I rest my cheek on his chest, not wanting to look into his eyes—it’s overly personal for how fragile I am in this moment.

“All I’m saying is it’s safer this way, I can enjoy my Thanksgiving dinner without having to worry if Bryan shows up while I’m gone.”

Oh.

He doesn’t press me for an answer, so I don’t give one. I’m not completely opposed to it, it’s logical. However, our arrangement may be too difficult to maintain. Lines are blurring. Perhaps it’s better to put an end to this before it’s too late. I have to stop looking for something that isn’t there.

Friends with benefits are all we’ll ever be.

Eventually our breaths even out and the sound of his steady heartbeat lulls me to sleep.