Free Be Mine Forever by Kennedy Ryan Page B

“working from home.” Tonight revealed that he was probably onto Cam’s avoid-Jo-at-all-costs strategy.
    Jo nodded, one hand gripping her shoes and the other alternating between toying with the pins holding her hair precariously high and twisting the earrings in her ear.
    “Aren’t those the earrings Ms. Kris gave you for your seventeenth birthday?”
    Jo’s face scrunched a little, her mouth making a small, plush O before snapping shut.
    “I can’t believe you remember that.”
    “I have a great memory.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    “You’re right. I don’t.” He didn’t leave space for her to ponder that admission or consider its implications. That maybe he remembered everything about her. “So you had a good time, huh?”
    Jo caressed the gold leather of her shoe and trapped her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before looking back at him.
    “It was probably one of the best dates I’ve ever had.”
    You asked, masochistic bastard.
    “So you like this guy?”
    “I like this guy a lot.”
    Cam had no right to feel like a froth-mouthed rabid dog at the thought of some other man having Jo. He’d spent the last decade and a half doing everything in his power to convince her, without words, that they would never work.
    Looked like she finally believed him.
    And it was a stiletto twisting in his gut. Cutting through his good intentions. Slicing through flesh, tendon, sinew—until it reached the evil, selfish bone. He wanted to cut the gold confection right off Jo’s lean, curvy body. Snip it away from her lush ass and splay her on the desk. Spread her, eat her, consume her until she didn’t even know her name. Couldn’t even speak because pleasure stole her words, stole her breath, stole her reason. Show her what it really felt like to be possessed by a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off her, as hard as he’d always tried.
    Who cared enough about her to keep his damn hands to himself.
    It was much harder watching Jo ride off into the sunset with some other guy than he had thought it would be. Even one so obviously perfect for her. So obviously much better for her than he would be.
    Cam stood and walked toward Jo, stopping just shy of her immediate orbit. The truth and a lie wrestled in his mouth until they both escaped through tight lips, sounding exactly the same.
    “I’m glad.”
    “He asked me out again tomorrow.” She tilted her head, considering him like a misbehaving theorem. “Should I go?”
    Cam refused his face what it wanted—to frown, scowl, furrow, squeeze his displeasure out through each feature. Instead he freeze-dried all his emotions for later and blanked his expression.
    “I can’t tell you what to do.”
    Jo searched his face with those eyes, the color of the moon and as omniscient. So like Ms. Kris’s eyes. Not the color or the shape, but gifted with true sight. Insight . In her wisdom, surely Ms. Kris had seen the darkness that even now threatened to swallow Cam whole, but she had loved him in spite of it. And Jo had those eyes, too, only something had changed since he had so deliberately hurt her in New York with Etty. Something in Jo’s heart was dying a slow but certain death. Probably the misplaced affection she’d held on to for years. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to place a pillow over its head or give it mouth-to-mouth. Kill or save. Alive or dead, it threatened his peace of mind.
    He walked past her to the door and onto the sprawling front porch, not stopping when he heard her bare feet crossing the foyer behind him. He pointed to the bank of buildings adjacent to the house.
    “My motorcycle’s in the garage.”
    “You’ll be home for a while?”
    Home? Was this still home? He’d come here hoping to recapture some feeling. The safeness, the rightness he’d experienced here once upon a time. But nothing felt right. If anything, the dreams had gotten worse and the nights longer since he returned.
    It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel safe. It