Starting Over by Barbie Bohrman Page A

Cameron’s T-shirt and pull him down into my bed with me. More odd still is when I snuggle into his arms and sniff all the sunshine goodness that is his signature scent while burrowing into his warmth.
    During the course of my broken sleep, I’m slightly aware that I’m sharing my bed with a man for the first time in many, many years. I’m cognizant of the fact that it’s Cameron, which brings a smile to my face even as I’m semi-restless. And that he’s holding me so close to him, like a prized treasure, and running his fingers through my hair with tenderness while my fever breaks and the dreams finally come.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    T here is an erection pressed against me.
    I never dreamed that this is where strep throat would lead, but there you have it.
    I’m lying on my side, facing the bright sun streaming through the windows since I never closed the blinds yesterday, relishing the beauty of a gorgeous Miami Sunday morning, when I feel it for the first time behind me.
    Cameron is spooning me. He has his chest and arms like a safety net around me, and it feels like a perfect bubble of comfort, from which I don’t really want to move. I can sense his even breathing and a light, adorable snore that alerts me that he’s sleeping soundly. But other . . . parts of him are awake.
    What is the protocol here, exactly? Do I nudge him and tell him to remove it from knocking on the back door? Or do I pretend that I can’t feel it and just wait for him to wake up on his own? Wait, that won’t work, since he’ll get out of my bed with a full-blown tent in his shorts, and that might be even more awkward. The last thing I want to do is call attention to it, even though it’s doing a perfectly capable job of that all on its own.
    I start to yawn, causing my rib cage to expand where Cameron’s one arm is draped over me. This slight movement is enough to get him stirring, and I’m hoping he’ll roll over so I can get up and out of the room and he won’t be embarrassed by what’s happening. Instead of rolling over, he settles in closer behind me. Then his left hand slides up the side of my body slowly until he’s cupping my breast.
    Okay, this is the exact opposite of what I was hoping to accomplish, and I’m frozen as still as a statue, not sure of what do next. I’m not a virgin and do not pretend to be holier-than-thou when it comes to sex, but I am in no way prepared yet to do anything with him like this.
    However, my body starts to betray me when he begins to massage my breast, slowly and methodically. It’s as if my mind has been hijacked by some sexual deviant, because good Lord, does that feel good. Especially when his thumb and forefinger zero in on my nipple, and he rubs it between his fingers before going right back to massaging it in his strong hand. Then it’s a back and forth of massaging and tugging for a good minute.
    I don’t want him to stop even though I know that we should. So, thinking that he’s asleep and doing a sleepwalk sex thing, I rest my head on the pillow more comfortably and close my eyes to revel in this for just a moment longer . . . and maybe even a little past that for good measure.
    But then, to both my utter shock and delight, Cameron starts to press light kisses on my neck. His lips inch up slowly as he moves behind me, letting me know that he’s completely awake and completely aware of what is going on between us.
    My brain switches off entirely and lets him take command of my body. I mean, a few precious minutes won’t kill me. Or at least that’s what I tell myself when rational thought tries to infiltrate me again as my breath hitches and starts to sound more like I’m losing control of the situation.
    The day old stubble on his chin rasps against my neck while Cameron continues to press kisses behind my ear in the most exquisite way, and it only adds to the sensation running through me. I grip the comforter in my hand to anchor me to this moment, to this bed, and to him a