Then he was kissing her neck and across the top of one shoulder. He cupped that opposite breast in one big hand and Whitney sucked in a quick breath. He kneaded the flesh through the silk cup and ran his thumb over her hardened nipple, while pulling the bra strap out of the way of his mouth. The strap slid down her arm, making the cup of her bra fall partially away from her breast.

He gave a low growl as he looked down, then teased her nipple with his fingers, plucking and rolling.

Hot shocks of sensation jolted through her and she tightened her knees, squeezing him.

“Oh, I like that,” he told her roughly, pulling on her nipple again.

“Cam. Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He dipped his knees, putting his mouth to her nipple and sucking.

It was relief and torture at the same time. It eased the ache there but started a new one pulsing between her legs.

“Cam!” She was louder this time.

His tongue licked over her hard tip as his hand squeezed her hip. He kissed his way up her chest and over her shoulder to her neck where he sucked lightly before he dragged his mouth to hers again.

Her fingers bumped down his abs to the front of his jeans as he kissed her. His tongue slid along hers and she worked the button on his jeans loose, then the zipper. She had to touch him. She slipped her hand past the denim and cotton a second later, gliding along the hard, hot length of his cock.

His breath hissed out as he ripped his mouth from hers. He pressed into her hand even as his hot gaze collided with hers.

“Whit.”

His voice was tight. He sounded like he didn’t have enough air to even say the word.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his shaft and squeezing.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

He put his hands on her shoulders, tipped his head back and dragged in air. Then he dropped his hands to her wrists and pulled her hand from his body.

“Wha—” But she didn’t need to finish the question. She saw it in his face. He’d changed his mind.

“We need to stop,” he told her gruffly.

“No.” She pulled out of his grasp and grabbed the bottom of his shirt attempting to pull him in again. If she could get her mouth on his she could keep him from talking.

For some reason she sensed that she should keep him from talking.

He wrapped a hand around her wrist and held her. “Yes. Stop.”

He reached for the bra strap he’d slid from her shoulder and pulled it back into place.

“What? Why?” She demanded as he stepped back.

He wasn’t out of reach, but his body language was saying clearly that he didn’t want her to reach out.

“We need to just be friends.”

14

Whitney blinked at him.

He waited for a few beats, giving her a chance to respond, she assumed. But then he said, “Whit? Just friends.”

She nodded. “I heard you.”

“So that’s okay, right? That’s good? What you want?”

She wet her lips, looked down at herself—her skirt hiked up, her blouse on the floor—then at him and the very obvious erection behind his open fly.

“No, not good,” she said.

He blew out a breath and rezipped his pants. Then he tucked his hands into his back pockets. To keep from reaching for her maybe? “Why not?” he asked. “You were the one who was against the idea of us dating again.”

She nodded. “I’m against dating, yes. But I can honestly say I would very much rather have sex in this kitchen than talk about my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s in this kitchen. If being friends means talking about that, or my family being a bunch of assholes, or how you think my personal and professional priorities are all screwed up then… no. Not really interested.”

She pushed him back and slid to the floor, smoothing her skirt down as she went. She bent to retrieve her blouse and slipped it on, buttoning only the two buttons between her breasts just to keep it closed until she could get upstairs.

She faced him again. “Also,” she said as she ran a hand through her hair, knowing it was mussed from Cam’s fingers, and really wishing his fingers were there again, “If you don’t want to have sex with me, then no more kissing.”

Cam winced slightly. “I did that to shut—stop you from talking.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“You wouldn’t stop, and raising my voice might have woken Didi up and putting my hand over your mouth seemed unnecessarily aggressive.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yelling and hands over mouths are definitely aggressive.”

“It was just an impulsive reaction.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. Okay, so he hadn’t been planning to kiss her. That was maybe good.

“So why your sudden change of heart on us dating?” Whitney asked.

“Because I saw your face on the video call the other morning.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You’re nervous about the project.”

Her heart thumped hard in her chest and she took a moment to answer. He’d seen that in her face? Via video call?

She wet her lips. “I didn’t hide that very well, huh?”

“But I don’t think you’re just worried about impressing us. You need to impress yourself.”

She just nodded. There was no sense in arguing with him about that, considering he had read her expression correctly.

“I’ve never had a big project like this.”

He nodded. “And it’s important to you.”

“Yes.”

“So I’d say that means you need a friend more than you need a date.”

She studied his face. Wow, that was sweet. Insightful. Nice. Finally she nodded. “You’re right.”

“And we’ve never been friends,” he said. “We were nemeses because of our families. And classmates. Then boyfriend-girlfriend. Then…”

“Exes,” she said with a shrug. She’d never considered him an enemy exactly, but they hadn’t stayed friends after their breakup, either. And no, they hadn’t really been friends before they’d started sneaking around.

“Yeah. Exes. So maybe we should try the friend thing. Hot Cakes needs you and I have a vested interest in things going well there. And you need help with Didi to make that project happen.”

She nodded. Her throat was tight. This was nice. Almost a relief. Having someone realize that she was nervous without her having to confess it was nice. Having someone say, “let me help” was nice. Having it be someone who was making her grandmother happy was nice.

“Okay. Friends.”

“And you have to stop putting work between us,” he said. “We’re on the same team. That’s going to take us some getting used to, I know. But it’s true. You’re not doing all of this yourself. You’re doing the stuff that the rest of us can’t do. For now, the ball is in your court. When you’ve got your part done, then the rest of us will take our pieces and do our stuff.”

That also sounded really nice. A team. She hadn’t had that before.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“And if you don’t want Didi with my family then, say it. But don’t make this about boss-employee-work bullshit.”