coming in a week.”
“The dick who kept breaking up and reconciling with you, rinsed and repeated?”
“Yeah.”
“Over and over?”
“Uh-huh.” Her laughter isn’t humorous. It’s just going through the motions of adequate human response. It’s pathetic, especially from Ingela, who’s the most genuine person I know.
“Are you saying you’re letting him visit?”
Ingela puffs, impatient with me already. She still buries into me, though, even inhaling something… maybe my fabric softener? It’s not bad, I think. It’s Dan’s, that pussy.
“You don’t get it, Cam. Have you ever dated someone for years?”
“Nope, can’t say I have.”
She slaps me in the chest, a light slug for Inga. “See? You know nothing. There’s tons of history, Cameron, and I loved him so much. Deep down, I know he loves me too—he’s just having all these… I dunno.”
“Issues?” I suggest.
“Yeah.” She laughs again.
“Stop doing that,” I say into her hair. Bubblegum. That’s what the whole girl smells like. Juicy Fruit. Except her sex. Damn.
“Do what?” She tips her head back up far enough to meet my stare.
“Fake-laugh. It’s not you, and I don’t like it.”
“Oh sorry, sweetheart—didn’t mean to do something you didn’t like,” she starts but then I silence her. Kiss her.
She kisses me back.
“You’re letting him come here?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t, huh?”
“You’d be a dimwit if you did.”
Her entire body heaves with the offense she takes from my comment. If this weren’t serious and all about Ingela’s wellbeing, I’d laugh. She’s damn cute—I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to make her angry. She’s about to shoot out a retort, but I cut in. Grab her chin and target her sassy little mouth, keeping it an inch from mine. “Dimwit. Inga’s a dimwit.”
“Cam’s a prick-wad and a douche-pack,” she responds, voice low. I look into her eyes, really look, but she lowers her eyelashes like a burlesque dancer and I get that she’s teasing me. She does know the real expression in both cases. She just likes to wind me up.
“You want to wind me up?” I ask out loud.
“Doesn’t take much.” She sniffs, her itty-bitty button nose going red in the spring cold.
I suck on her lips. She lets me. God yes, she’s letting me, and it’s so good. Her lips are sweet with balm or whatever on them. I want to lick more than her mouth.
“Plus, you’re leaving,” she tells me out of the blue.
I draw back, search her eyes in an effort to decipher what she means. Ingela frowns as if she’s pondering it too. She doesn’t divulge further, though, even when her features settle in understanding. I might not have a doctorate in the intricacies of the female psyche, but—
“Let me get this straight: you’re going to let him come stay with you because I’m leaving on a trip?”
She tries to turn away from me.
“Inga. You are, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, dork.”
It’s her standard retort.
“Listen.” I clamp her lower face between my thumb and index finger and don’t let go when she makes an attempt at wiggling free. “Look at me.”
Instead of looking, she glares at me. “I’m listening, geez.”
“Okay.” I suck on her lips one more time real quick because they’re tasty. “Me leaving for Whistler for one weekend has nothing to do with you messing with your happiness. Really, don’t—”
“You ass!”
“Can you stop insulting me just for one night?”
She puffs her lip out, and it’s too cute. I need to grab it between my teeth. Suckle. Shit, she’s… I wish I hadn’t brought her home the other night. Then again, who am I kidding? I’m ecstatic that I brought her home the other night.
“I don’t mean it.”
“You don’t mean what?” Women are enigmas to me. But this girl? She’s the freaking… mystery of the universe. I have no idea, ever, where her crazy mind takes her.
“To insult you. Just don’t go to