Cami
It’s ethereal. That moment at a club, in a crowd, where the bodies of everyone pressing around you, the pulse of the beat, hell, even the particles of air, seem to pause. They slow from a frenetic discord to a gentle heartbeat. Steady.
Leif and I share that moment.
His fingers are twisted in the material of my shirt and he’s fisting it in his right hand, pulling my body closer as we dance, grind, together. I’ve got one hand gripping his hip, the other resting on the swell of his shoulder. Sweat drips down my spine from hours of dancing. I tossed my hair up in a bun hours ago. My body feels electric, like one touch from him in the right spot, and I’ll short-circuit.
I’m breathless and drunk on his presence. Well, that and the shots I consumed since dinner. But it feels good. God, it feels right.
And then, we have the moment.
I don’t think I’ve ever had the moment before. Not even with Levi. No, everything with Levi was a blur of high highs and low lows. In hindsight, Mom was onto something when she accused me of making a series of poor judgment calls. Decisions I have to live with.
When Leif’s eyes meet mine, the guilt and shame I harbor evaporates. I’m not naïve Cami. I’m me again—what you see is what you get.
Leif’s eyes widen slightly, appearing just as startled as I feel, before the outer rings of that mesmerizing blue darken from the color of the Caribbean to the shade of the Mediterranean.
My fingernails dig into his shoulder and my back arches on its own accord. He draws me closer—how is that even possible?
The sound of the music fades. The person who bumps into me—Izzy or Tamara—from behind doesn’t fully register.
The back of Leif’s hand drags up the side of my body. Slowly. Sensually. My eyes close as his knuckles glide over my cheek. He tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear, his thumb pressing against my earlobe.
And when I open my eyes, he’s looking at me intently. His eyebrows are pulled together, a tiny line forming between them. His eyes study me carefully, like a treasure, like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. His lips part and he releases a long exhale as his fingers skate across my face and his thumb lands in the center of my chin. He shakes his head slightly, as if in awe, as if this is the most meaningful exchange he’s ever experienced.
The look in his eyes, the honest emotion stamped in his expression, crashes over me like a tidal wave. My hand presses to his, our fingers linking together, as he cradles my face.
He’s not looking at me like I let him down. A hot mess.
He’s not shaking his head like I’m a silly girl who read the situation wrong.
Or like this is a fun one-night-whatever that won’t matter tomorrow.
His electric blue eyes bore into mine like they’re seeing straight to my soul. And they’re not scared. Or frustrated.
They’re hopeful, reflecting a prism of possibilities.
They’re honest, pouring out as much of his emotions as they take in of mine.
They’re enchanted. I enchant him.
He blinks once and then, in that slow motion way of the best romance movies I’ve ever watched, his mouth arcs over mine. I lift my chin, waiting and wanting for the gift he’s about to bestow.
And he misses his mark. Someone slams into Leif from behind and he stumbles forward, stepping on my toe and smacking his mouth against my ear.
He drags me with him, one strong arm banding across my lower back.
His eyes are wide—startled—as his other hand grips my shoulder. “Cami!” His eyes fly over my face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“Just my toes,” I admit, feeling the stomp of his foot reverberate through my body.
“Shit!” He moves to drop to his knees, but I clasp his shoulders and keep him upright.
“No, it’s okay,” I assure him. “I’m fine.”
He whirls around, keeping one hand on my hip and tucking me behind his large frame.
Oh, no. My nerves scatter and my senses go on high alert. I’ve been in this position too many times with Levi. This is the part where the guy loses his mind and—
“You okay, dude?” Leif asks the man who bumped into him.
Um, what? I press up on my tippy toes to get a better view and wince at the pain that travels through my left foot.
“I fucking love this song!” The guy is wasted and stumbling. He grins crookedly at Leif, and nods his head to the beat, completely unaware that he nearly took us out.
Leif places a hand on his shoulder and leans forward, saying something to the man. The man points to some friends and Leif gestures them over. He speaks to them, but I can’t catch his words. The friends seem receptive, and I watch as Leif hands them some cash. Then, they usher their friend away.
Leif turns back around to face me. “How’s your foot? Do you need ice?”
“What was that?” I point toward the group of men.
Leif follows my gaze and shrugs. “That guy was hammered. I just want to make sure he gets some water in his system and takes it easy. He could get himself jammed up if he’s not careful.” Leif looks around the club and I note the swarm of dancing bodies. “Things always tend to go sideways at this time of night.”
“Yeah,” I laugh, staring at him. Who the hell is this guy? Any man I know would have decked the dude for pushing us, or, at the very least, exchanged some heated words. Levi would have knocked him out completely.
“You sure you’re okay?” Leif asks, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear.
I nod, pulling back to stare at him. He looks worried—genuinely concerned for my well-being. Not defensive, needing to protect his ego. Not angry, that a stranger ruined his chance to kiss me. Just…sincere.
As much as I hate that I compare him to Levi, in this moment, I’m relieved that I’m attracted to a man so different than the mercurial musician. Right now, I want to press myself against the considerate, laid-back, thoughtful man in front of me and kiss him hard.
Placing my palms on his cheeks, I lean into Leif, go up on my tippy toes, and kiss him passionately.
When my lips meet his, my body implodes, and I cling to him. Physically, my restraint started slipping the second I laid eyes on him. But emotionally? Leif just proved he’s a man worth connecting with and any reasons I had to hold back disappear. My hands track his back; his hands grip my waist.
We come together like a tornado spiraling amid a hurricane and the sound of the club rushes around us, pulling us into the vortex and pulsing in my eardrums.
My arms wind around Leif’s neck. He sweeps me into his arms, palming my ass like he can’t control himself for a second longer.
Our tongues duel and twist. Our hands touch and memorize. But it’s not slow and sensual now, no, it’s borderline frantic.
“Fuck, Cami. You’re something else,” Leif pants in my ear.
I chuckle but the sound is too high. Reedy. “I don’t want tonight to end, Leif.”
He pulls back slightly to give me a look. “We’ve got hours ahead of us, beautiful.”
I nearly shudder at the promise in his words. Hours? Yes, please. I want all of them. “Promise?” I taunt.
He grins, a quick flash. “Cross my fucking heart.” He tosses his gesture from earlier back at me.
I smile. I like that we have…what? An inside joke? It’s silly and childish yet it lights me up like a Christmas tree.
“Stay with me, tonight,” he says—he’s not asking.
And I like that too.
“I’m all yours.” I arch into him again, pressing my breasts into his chest. God, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this confident with a man. This…honest about my own wants.
He grabs a handful of my ass and squeezes. “Want to get out of here?”
“I do,” I admit, glancing around to find my friends.
Luckily, they’re not far away and when I meet Izzy’s eyes and gesture that I’m leaving with Leif, she arches one eyebrow. I roll my eyes, and she snorts and gives a little wave.
“What was that?” Leif laughs, catching our exchange.
“That was me telling Izzy we’re out, her asking me if I’m sure, me saying ‘seriously,’ and her laughing.”
“You had that whole conversation with one look?” he questions, lacing his fingers with mine and moving us toward the exit.
“We’ve been friends forever,” I shout over the music. “Don’t you need to find your friends?”
“I’ll text them,” he replies as we weave through bodies.
We get our things from the VIP booth. Leif sees Ray and passes him a wad of bills for tonight’s fun, and we leave the club.
When we get outside, the fresh air slams into us. Even though it’s hot and humid, it feels refreshing after hours in the club.
We stall for a second as Leif looks me over. “You okay?”
I nod, smirking. I like that he checks in. Most guys I know aren’t this attentive. “I’m good. Where to?”
Leif shrugs and glances down the street. “Actually, there’s a place I’ve been meaning to pass by. It’s a two-minute walk.” He eyes my shoes, my poor foot that took the brunt of his weight, and again, his concern causes a warmth to spread through my limbs.
I slip my hand into Leif’s. Right now, I don’t feel the pain in my foot. I don’t feel anything but anticipation for the hours ahead. “Lead the way.”
We take off at a stroll. A casual, familiar walk at midnight in Vegas. It’s not desperate. We’re definitely drunk but we’re not falling over each other, unable to function.
Instead, our conversation is easy. Our silence, comfortable.
It’s fucking unnerving, that’s what it is. And I relish it.
When we arrive at our destination, Leif knocks twice on a nondescript door.
A thrill of nerves, of anticipation mixed with fear, runs up my spine.
Where are we? Did I read this situation wrong?
A night from Spain—Ibiza—comes buzzing back. Of Levi scoring drugs. Getting high.
I shake my head.
Shit, I should have shared my location with the girls.
I look up at Leif but he’s as cool as he was a second ago.
The door opens.
“Yeah?” a gruff guy asks.
“I’m here for Skip,” Leif explains.
The guy gives Leif a long look before he swears under his breath. “You coming now?”
Leif shrugs. “Was in the area.” He tosses me a wink, like I’m in on the secret.
What the hell is the secret?
And why, with my track record, am I so desperate to be in on it?
“You ready?” Leif squeezes my fingers.
I look up at him. Fear, excitement, desire flooding my senses.
Where the hell are we? Am I really going to follow a man I just met through a random, unmarked door in Vegas?
For a heartbeat, that night from Barcelona, the one that changed the course of my life, reverberates in my mind. Levi and the cocaine and the pictures… I shake my head.
Leif waits for my response. He doesn’t rush me. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me with those mesmerizing eyes and pure patience. Like he would wait all night.
“Sure,” I say, taking a leap of faith.
Then, Leif leads me through the door, and it closes behind us.
We move through a heavy curtain into another area. My heart gallops and I pinch Leif’s fingers. Sensing my unease, he wraps his arm around my waist, banding me to his side.
When we emerge on the other side of the curtain, the bright light assaults my eyes and I blink rapidly.
A buzzing sound rattles in my eardrums. I look around.
“This is a tattoo parlor!” I announce.
Leif smirks. “Yeah. I know it’s not conventional, but Marco mixes a good fucking cocktail.” He flips his chin toward a guy behind a bar, concocting something in a shaker. Two women and a man hang out in front of the bar, talking casually. “And I’ve been meaning to roll through.” Leif bumps his shoulder against mine. “Thanks for doing this with me.”
“Of course,” I say. What the fuck are we doing? I do not voice that.
“Laid-back Leif,” a large dude says, moving toward us.
Leif drops his hold on my fingers to do some bromance shake with this large, towering man. “What’s good, Skip?”
Skip shakes his head and laughs. “Hey, little mama.” He holds out his fist to me.
I pound it.
“You getting a piece tonight, too?” Skip asks me.
“I, um, say that again?” I try to process his question.
Skips laughs, while Leif grins and wraps that strong arm around me again.
I try not to be too obvious as I melt into his side.
“Nah, tonight, I want to finish mine,” Leif explains.
Skip guffaws. “Tonight? I love how you think I’d have nothing else going on.”
Leif glances around the chill space. Turns back toward Skip. “Can you fit me in, Skippy?”
Skip flashes him the middle finger. “Don’t fucking call me peanut butter.”
I grin. Leif laughs.
“And I always got time for you, you fucker,” Skip continues, turning toward his station.
Leif and I follow and Leif leans against the tattoo table.
“Wait, you’re getting a tattoo?” I ask.
Skip snorts and Leif’s grin widens. He pulls off his shirt and I inhale sharply. Jesus, the man is all muscle!
His shoulders are broad and strong. His pecs could do a damn dance. His abs comprise a literal washboard. Corded ropes for veins in those strong forearms. But his back, his back makes me audibly groan.
“You like it?” He glances at me over his shoulder as I study his tattoo.
It isn’t finished yet but… “It’s glorious.” The words tumble from my mouth.
Skip points at me. “I like you, little mama.”
“It’s where I feel the most at peace,” Leif admits quietly.
My eyes flick up from the work on his back—a cresting wave, a surfboard adrift, a brilliant sunset—to his face. He’s staring at me like he’s holding his breath. Like this is some sort of test and he’s waiting to see if I pass.
“Like you can block out all the noise and just be,” I murmur.
Surprise, quickly followed by gratitude, flares in his irises. “Exactly. You got something like that, Cam?”
I nod slowly. Obviously, my family knows I like to draw. Sketch. Fashion designs mostly. But they never took it seriously. It was a hobby I had until I had to buckle down and become an adult—study accounting.
But… “Yeah, I do,” I tell Leif. Holding his gaze, I continue, “Drawing. That’s my thing.”
He watches me for a long beat before nodding once. “Your minor.”
“Right.” I bite my bottom lip, glancing around the tattoo parlor. Another night in Spain zips through my mind and I rub the side of my ribs where my first tattoo permanently marks my skin.
A reminder of that semester. A warning to never repeat it.
Skip grabs a stool and rolls over. Glancing between Leif and me, he chuckles under his breath and pulls up a stool for me.
I plop down and smile. “Want me to hold your hand, Leif?”
At that, Skip throws his head back and laughs. “Little mama, fuck, girl, you gotta let me do your next tattoo.”
Leif’s laughing too and then, he sobers. “Wait, Cami, you got any ink?”
Grinning, I nod. Thank God Mom doesn’t know—she would literally go into cardiac arrest.
Leif and Skip exchange a look.
I start to roll up the flimsy material of my shirt and Leif sits up straighter, his expression darting from me to Skip and back again. A protective glint flares in his eyes and I pause. “It’s along my ribs.”
“Damn, that hurts,” Skip mutters, leaning closer to read the words. “Sogno con gli occhi aperti.”
Leif looks at me, his expression bathed in curiosity.
“I dream with open eyes,” I explain.
Skip shakes his head. “That’s deep, little mama.”
I snort. “It was supposed to be in Spanish since I got it in Spain, but I messed up Google translate and got it in Italian.”
Skip laughs and Leif chuckles but his expression searches mine. Again, it’s as though he can see below the surface. Deeper.
Skip gets to work, and Leif takes my hand, surprising us both.
He winks at me, and something shifts between us.
We have another moment.
A real one.
One that changes everything and makes me wish this moment, this night, this man at my side, could be my forever.