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Trust in Me
J. Lynn
From the NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author of WAIT FOR YOU, this is the story of Cam and Avery’s sizzling romance as you’ve never seen it before, told exclusively from Cam’s perspective… now a NEW YORK TIMES top ten bestseller!Cameron Hamilton is used to getting what he wants, especially when it comes to women. But when Avery Morgansten comes crashing into his life – literally – he finally meets the one person who can resist his soulful baby blues. But Cam’s not ready to give up – he can’t get this feisty and intriguing girl out of his head.Avery has secrets, secrets that keep her from admitting the feelings Cam knows she has for him. What will it take to help him break down her barriers and gain her trust? Or will he be shut out of Avery’s life, losing his first real shot at the kind of love that lasts forever?
Trust in Me
A novella
J Lynn
Copyright (#ulink_b60dd916-5244-5344-98d0-f7c211dd503e)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Jennifer L Armentrout 2013
Excerpt from Be With Me Copyright © Jennifer L Armentrout 2014
Cover images © Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com)
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Jennifer L Armentrout asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © October 2013 ISBN: 9780007538973
Version: 2014-07-28
This is for all the fans of Cam and his cookies, who wanted more of our egg-boiling lover boy. Enjoy.
Table of Contents
Cover (#u109ea15e-be51-566f-b444-6668a6ccc38d)
Title Page (#u8fba7024-f5fb-5bc2-a9bb-ffdcd7cdcb25)
Copyright (#u22931c5d-27be-5c8c-a854-fee46d281390)
Dedication (#u0abcd62b-6901-5291-979e-79d06a68bfce)
Chapter 1 (#u675adcc1-434d-56d6-9296-b3418d14d616)
Chapter 2 (#u196fbd73-a835-5621-b314-9b3795d05c71)
Chapter 3 (#u03c81d47-d84c-53e1-abd9-d451aa3864fb)
Chapter 4 (#ufa7d3e52-18db-5054-a4b9-21a406d571c4)
Chapter 5 (#uebe2769e-2a7a-5d87-9a47-7238d471d2e6)
Chapter 6 (#u0423323e-4f4b-5f93-ad4a-21300456e6a3)
Chapter 7 (#u56996ff6-9717-5cf9-8fbc-d2c454280ea7)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by J Lynn (#litres_trial_promo)
Read on for an extract from Be With Me (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_606d1dd1-3f54-5631-a9a3-97a5b9020ccf)
Jase Winstead was a cruel motherfucker.
Going to Ass-tronomy 101was the last thing I wanted to be doing at nine in the damn morning, especially since all the class did was remind me of the first time I entered Professor Drage’s class and why I’d made a hasty, unplanned exit my freshman year. And I really didn’t need Jase’s taunting text messages about why scheduling classes before noon was unhealthy.
Considering I was going on—oh, I don’t know, two hours of sleep—and I could still taste the tequila and other things I really didn’t want to even think about from last night, I was currently a walking poster child for how not to have a healthy and happy first day of fall classes.
I watched the door to astronomy swing shut and then glanced back down at my phone. Jase’s text mocked me.
Skip. I have beer. X-Box. FIFA ’13
Well, shit. That was hella tempting. Ollie had trashed our Xbox the weekend before, during a brutal showdown of Call of Duty.
I was a few minutes late for class.
Astronomy, or soccer on the Box? Not really a tough call.
Mind made up, I pivoted around and started to respond back to Jase when the double doors flung open like a tornado had ripped through the stairwell. My head jerked up just in time to see something small and something red come barreling straight at me.
There was no stopping the collision.
A little body smacked right into me and bounced back, arms flailing like a drowning victim. The bag, which looked like it weighed more than the owner, toppled her over.
Reacting out of instinct, I shot forward, dropping my own bag and wrapping my arm around her waist, but the backpack went in one direction, the contents in the other. She was still reeling, like one of those inflatable pop bags. I tightened my hold, stilling her before she did some serious damage to herself. She jerked upright. Deep auburn hair flew forward, snapping me in the face. The scent of berries and something musky and good filled me.
Holy shit, Strawberry Shortcake just ran me over.
I chuckled and slipped my cell into my pocket, about to let her go, but the girl locked up. Every muscle seemed to go rigid. As tiny as she was, barely reaching my shoulders, she seemed to suddenly get smaller, shrinking into herself. Was she hurt?
And did she somehow mistake Shepherd for a nearby middle school?
“Whoa,” I said. “You okay, sweetheart?”
No response for about a half minute, and I started to get real concerned. Then she dragged in a deep breath, causing her chest to rise flush against mine. I froze at the feel of her curves. Definitely not a middle schooler, unless they were developing in ways they hadn’t when I was there. And, if so, I was fucking envious of those boys.
Okay, now I felt like I needed a shower, because even that disturbed me.
Was I still drunk from last night? I was going to go with a yes.
“Hey,” I tried again, voice lower. “Are you okay?” When there was still no response, I pressed two fingers under her chin. Her skin was soft and too cool. Wondering if it was possible for a person to pass out and remain standing, I gently lifted her head, my mouth opening to ask her again, but words died somewhere between my brain and my mouth.
I blinked, because like a total dumbass, I thought that would change what I was seeing. Not that I wanted to change what I was seeing, but damn …
What guy didn’t have a soft spot for a redhead?
Pretty was too weak of a word to describe her. Her eyes were large and the color of warm whiskey. Freckles dotted the bridge of her small nose and her cheeks were well defined. Lips were a sweet cherry color and wide for her face, full and plump. The kind of lips that belonged to the kind of mouth that could and would bring a man—
“Let. Go. Of. Me.”
The hardness of her voice, laced with barely controlled panic, caused me to immediately drop her arm and take a healthy step back.
She swayed a little at the loss of support, and I almost reached for her again, but I valued my balls. One day I’d like to have a kid or some shit, and I had a feeling if I touched her again, that would not be in my future.
Pushing strands of thick hair out of her face, she cautiously stepped away from her bag. Thick lashes specked with red lifted, and, for a moment, neither of us moved and then her gaze moved over my face and then down. Chick was blatantly checking me out.
Perhaps my balls weren’t in danger.
A pretty pink flush spread across her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was in a hurry to get to class. I’m late and …”
I grinned as I knelt down, gathering up the spilled items. How one girl could have so many damn pens was beyond me. Blue. Purple. Black. Red. Orange. What the fuck? Who wrote with an orange pen?
She joined me, grabbing the rest of her pens as her head tilted in a way that a wall of coppery hair shielded her face. “You don’t have to help me.”
“It’s no problem.” I picked up a slip of paper that turned out to be her schedule. Quick glance at the classes confirmed she was a freshman. “Astronomy 101? I’m heading that way, too.”
Jase and beer and FIFA ’13 were going to have to wait.
“You’re late.” She was still hiding behind her hair. “I really am sorry.”
Picking up her last notebook, I shoved it into the bag and stood. I handed it back to her, willing her to look up. I don’t know why, call me a mama’s boy, but I liked my girls smiling and not appearing like they were on the verge of tears. “It’s okay. I’m used to having girls throw themselves at me.” Her chin lifted up just the slightest, and my grin spread. “Trying to jump on my back is new, though. Kind of liked it.”
Her head jerked up and all that hair slid back. “I wasn’t trying to jump on your back or throw myself at you.”
“You weren’t?” My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it. “Well, that’s a shame. If so, it would have made this the best first day of class in history.”
She studied me as she clutched her bag to her chest, and my gaze dropped to the piece of paper I held. “Avery Morgansten?”
“How do you know my name?” she snapped.
