All Over You (All Falls Down #3) (24 page)

His demand sets off an explosion. I come hard, bucking wildly beneath him as fire races through my veins, melting me from the inside out.

"Yes," he growls, going wild above me. His hand digs into my hip, his other grinding against my clit as he drives his hips into mine, impaling me on his cock over and over. He's relentless, making me come once and then again. Still, he doesn't stop. He rolls us over, demanding that I ride him.

I do, rising up and dropping back down onto him, impaling myself with his cock. My nails dig into his shoulders as he plays with my nipples. He's all over me, leaving another roadmap of marks scattered across my body.

"Fuck, I love this cunt," he groans, grabbing my hips in his hands and lifting me. He drops me down hard, grinding his pelvis into me.

"Please," I whimper, not sure I can come again. My body is so sensitive…the slightest touch is going to shatter me.

"One more, kitten," he says, rising up until I'm straddling his lap, our foreheads pressed together. "I need you to give me one more." He rocks me against him, flexing his hips to push deeper every time I sink down onto him. "Let me feel you come one more time," he says, and I think he's pleading with me…begging me to give him what he wants.

As if he even needs to ask.

"Come with me," I whisper into his mouth, tangling my hands in his hair as another orgasm begins to spark inside of me, pulling me toward the edge. "Please, Cam." I don't want to come alone this time. I want him with me when I fall over the edge.

"Yes." He pulls me down on him, grinding his pelvis into me as he kisses me. He's soaked with sweat, beads rolling down his body. His movements pick up until he finds the rhythm he needs. "Fuck, kitten," he moans into my skin, slamming me down onto his cock again and then again.

"I love you," I cry out as I begin to come, bright lights bursting in a spray of vibrant color.

"Ivy!" He slams me down onto him and stills. He moans and trembles in my arms, resting his head against my chest as he gives me everything he has, spilling into me in a rush of wetness.

I run my hands through his sweaty hair as we both come down, breathing hard.

"I love you," I whisper.

An unintelligible, almost broken sound comes from his lips. His arms tighten around me until he's crushing me against him, holding me like he's never going to let me go. Like he might fall apart if I try to move away from him. Another soft sound rumbles against my chest.

It takes me a moment to realize that he's saying something, repeating the same words over and over.

"Please don't take her from me," he whispers against my skin. "Please."

chapter seventeen

all over you

"Miss Kendall," Thomas Jacoby, Cam's partner, says with a polite incline of his head early the next morning. We're in Cam's office, waiting for…I honestly don't know who we're waiting for.

"Hi," I whisper to him, wringing my hands together. I'm so scared, I feel like I'm going to throw up.

Cam hasn't left my side since we arrived, but not even having him beside me calms the anxiety churning through me. Any minute now, I'm going to be arrested for manslaughter and transported to jail, where I'll remain until I go before a judge and enter a plea. If I'm lucky, I'll be granted bail. If I'm not, these are my last few minutes as a free woman.

"Is it done?" Cam asks Jacoby.

His partner nods.

I glance between the two of them, not sure what they're talking about. Cam squeezes my hand, but doesn't fill me in. Instead, he lifts his free hand and pushes his hair away from his forehead, expelling a heavy breath. He's been quiet this morning…has been since last night, honestly.

After his little prayer, he pulled me into his arms and just held me. I don't think either of us managed to sleep anymore. We just laid together, waiting for the sun to rise and my nightmare to really begin. I think he's hiding something, but I'm not sure what or if I even want to know. If there's something worse waiting ahead, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to deal with it.

I already feel stretched thin, on the verge of breaking wide open.

"Ventura will be here soon," Jacoby says, leaning back against the door.

Cam nods and then closes his eyes for a moment. "Can we have a few minutes?" he asks his partner.

"Yeah." Jacoby glances at me again, offering me a small smile, and then he pulls the door open and ducks out. "I'll give you until he gets here."

"Thanks."

The door closes behind him, leaving me and Cam in silence.

"Promise me something," he says, plucking me out of my chair and pulling me into his lap. He turns me so he can see my face, and then tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Okay."

He stares at me for a long moment as if trying to memorize my face. His eyes are dark beneath from lack of sleep, but the gray is as bright as ever. He's never looked more handsome to me than he does in this moment.

"Promise me that, no matter what happens when Ventura gets here, you won't give up on me," he says. His voice is rough with emotion. The same passes through his eyes, pain and fear mingling in the stormy depths.

I search his face, ill at ease. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just need to know that you'll keep fighting, no matter what."

I know he's lying to me, but I don't want to spend our last few minutes together arguing, so I agree. "Okay," I promise, leaning my head on his shoulder.

He expels a breath and then kisses me on the forehead.

"What's going to happen to me, Cam?" I whisper, linking our fingers together in my lap.

"Ventura will read your Miranda Rights, and then you'll be searched." He curses softly as if just remembering something. "You'll have to exchange your clothes for a jumpsuit."

"Okay."

"Someone will have to be with you while you undress."

"Oh." I swallow hard. "C-can it be you?"

He shakes his head reluctantly. "'Fraid not, kitten. We'll make sure you have to be a female officer, though."

"Okay." That makes me feel a little better, but not much. I don't want to have to strip naked in front of someone I don't know just to prove that I'm not trying to carry anything into the jail with me. The thought alone is humiliating.

"Once you're changed, you'll be questioned, and then Ventura will transport you to the jail, where you'll be processed. You'll be placed in a holding cell, where you'll stay until you go before the judge."

"When?"

Cam sighs. "We're trying to make sure that happens today, but it may be tomorrow, sweetheart."

I squeeze my eyes closed, my stomach churning.

"While you wait to be arraigned, you'll be interviewed again, which will help determine whether or not you're given bail. Jacoby has already talked to the D.A. on your behalf, and she's agreed not to fight letting you out on bail with a few stipulations."

"What stipulations?"

He hesitates for a moment. "You'll have to stay with me while you're out, and you'll have to wear an ankle monitor. You won't be allowed to leave my condo unless you're going to medical appointments or to see your lawyer." He hesitates again. "You're also going to be forbidden from using computers or smartphones."

"What?" I sit up, frowning. "Why?"

He closes his eyes for a moment and then pops them back open, eyeing me. "Honestly? I think the D.A. wants to make this as uncomfortable as possible for you. But this will only help your case, kitten. As soon as Fake Ivy posts to one of her profiles, we'll have even more evidence that you didn't do this."

Even when they let me out, I'll still be a prisoner then, unable to leave Cam's condo or even Google any of the million things I find myself looking up every day. I'll have a box around my ankle, tracking my every move.

"She's winning," I mumble, hanging my head as another wave of humiliation blasts through me. I don't cry though. I don't think I have any tears left. Cam claimed the rest of them last night when he fell apart in my arms.

"Not for long," he vows, heat in his voice.

We sit in silence for another moment while I process everything he just told me.

"Will I be able to see you?" I ask him, already knowing the answer.

"Not until your arraignment, sweetheart."

I sigh and curl up in his lap.

He runs his hand over my head and then down my back, trying to comfort me.

"Did you mean it?"

I know exactly what he's asking me. He sounds vulnerable in a way he never has before, and that wrecks me. He's so strong, and I'm breaking him, exactly like I feared I would. I did it last night, and I'm doing it again now. I'm unraveling him, and I don't even mean to.

I sit up in his lap again, placing my palms on his cheeks so he has to look at me. Only when his eyes meet mine do I respond. "Yes," I whisper, staring at him, willing him to feel how much I mean what I told him last night. "I love you, Cam."

His lashes flutter and then he pulls me in for a kiss. He's tender one moment and rough the next, his lips gentle against mine before he bites my bottom one. He's discomposed, as if my words have unraveled another little piece of him. I cling to him, kissing him back with everything in me, until we're both breathless and panting.

When the door opens, Cam reluctantly slows our kiss and then ends it with little pecks to my lips. He presses his forehead to mine and takes a deep breath.

"I love you, kitten," he whispers.

I close my eyes, letting the strength behind his words wind through me, giving me the courage needed to rise from his lap and face what comes next.

Detective Ventura is handsome in a hard way. He's blond, with blue eyes and a square jaw. He's also relentless, and not in a sexy way like Cam. He's a bulldog, attacking from every angle. I don't even know how long he's been questioning me, but it feels like I've been locked in this interview with him for days. I'm completely drained, and he shows no signs of letting up anytime soon.

As if on cue, he slides a photograph of Rory's body across the table to me.

I gasp and squeeze my eyes closed, but not quick enough to keep from seeing his bloated, discolored body. His eyes are wide open, discolored. The top half of his head looks misshapen, as if his skull has been fractured. Other bones are obviously broken, entire parts of his body appearing distorted and wrong.

I fight back a wave of nausea, trying to block the image from my mind.

"Do you know what happens to the human body after a jump from the Bay Bridge?" Detective Ventura asks me, his tone almost conversational. He doesn't wait for me to respond before continuing. "Hitting the water is like crashing into cement. Your internal organs are ripped loose. Your ribcage shatters, piercing your heart and lungs. Your spine snaps in multiple places. If you're lucky, you die quickly. If you're not, you drown, not only in the water, but in your own blood. It's a gruesome way to go. One of the worst. That's what you let that kid experience."

"I didn't do this," I say for the millionth time, cracking my eyes open to look at him. I can't take anymore. I just can't. "I know you don't believe me, and nothing I say in this room or in any other is going to change your mind. I understand that, sir. You have a job to do, and I'm guessing you're pretty good at it or you wouldn't be here now. But I'm not the person you're looking for. I didn't know this kid, and I certainly never stole money from him or told him to kill himself. I never even met him!"

Detective Ventura stares at me for a long, silent moment, and then he reaches into his folder again. He slides another picture across to me. "Are you sure about that, Miss Kendall?"

I glance down at the picture and then blink and look closer. It's a photo of me on stage at Antonio's bar the last time I played there months ago. Erin sits to the left of the stage with Antonio. At the table beside them sits Rory Clark and a couple I recognize from photos in his dorm room, his roommate Tyler and his girlfriend, Jessica.

"You want to tell me the truth now?" Ventura asks.

I shake my head, my gaze locked on that photo. "I don't remember him," I mumble, shell-shocked. I've seen picture after picture of him in the last couple of weeks, and nothing about him is familiar. But he was there at that show, sitting right up front.

Detective Ventura sighs, clearly out of patience.

"I'm telling you the truth," I say, though I'm certain he doesn't believe me. Why should he? Rory was photographed at my show months ago, and that's all the proof this detective needs of my guilt. Nothing I say now is going to change his mind.

He eyes me for long moments, not speaking. "Did you know Detective Lewis is one of the best investigators we have? The way his mind works…" He shakes his head like he's impressed. "He's brilliant when it comes to reading people, and everyone knows it. If we can't get someone to talk, we bring him in. Given enough time, he can get anyone to talk to him."

I open my mouth and then close it again, uneasy at the sudden shift in conversation.

"From what I hear, Rory Clark was brilliant, too. The kid was going places." He drums his fingers against the tabletop, eyeing me. "What is it about you that turns intelligent men like that into fools, Miss Kendall?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" He cocks his head to the side and studies me for a moment. "You're an enchantress, Miss Kendall. You lure them in, take what you want, and then you ruin them. First, the Clark kid, and now Lewis."

"W-what are you talking about?" I ask, my unease growing the longer he talks about Cam and my relationship with him.

"You really don't know, do you?" Ventura asks, disbelief in his tone.

"Know what?"

"Right after I brought you in here, Detective Lewis relinquished his badge and his service weapon, Miss Kendall."

"What? Why?"

"He's being suspended because of his relationship with you. Unless he's really lucky, he'll be fired. Because there's something about you that had him thinking with his dick instead of his head." He reaches into his folder and pulls out several more photographs. They're all of me and Cam. The first one is of me and him embracing on campus. He's got his hand on my ass while he kisses me. Our faces are hidden from the camera, but it's clearly us. The second is of the two of us entering his hotel together, his arm around my waist. There's another shot of us at dinner, cuddled up in the booth, both of us smiling. The last is the worst. It's a security photo from his hotel. We're in the elevator, my hand in his pants while he has his head thrown back against the wall, a look of intense pleasure on his face.

"H-how―?"

"How did we get these?" he asks and waits for me to nod before answering. "We've had a guy following you since you ran off to Los Angeles, keeping tabs on you in case you did something stupid and tried to flee the country. It took him all of ten minutes to get these photos. Let's just say the brass wasn't thrilled to find one of our detectives has been fucking you right under their noses."