Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

29. Camila

Chapter twenty-nine

Camila

" A lright, everyone! Pencils and pens down!" the proctor announces. A collective sigh fills the room, along with a few distraught wails. After two grueling days—essays on day one and multiple-choice questions on day two—I'm officially done with the bar. I know I passed. I can feel it.

I bring my Scantron sheet to the front of the auditorium and then head back to gather my belongings. I opted to take the exam at the Judicial Institute at Pace rather than in the city because I thought the commute would be less stressful and the room a little less crowded. The commute was still a pain—I took a car before the sun was up rather than risk public transit—but the campus is beautiful, and I had time for a light breakfast at a nearby cafe.

All packed up, I make my way to the front entrance, surrounded by people that look as tired as I feel. Some form a group and wander off in search of food. A few meet friends or family members with pride in their eyes, pulling them into embraces. Rory and Gabe offered to come, but I figured I would be too beat to celebrate. Now, I really wish I had a hug and a bed to fall into; preferably a bed that doesn't cost $70 in cab fare to get to.

I take out my phone to call a car, but see a text message waiting for me instead.

Henry

Henry: Hey. Look up. ;-)

I scan the area until I see Henry leaning against his car in visitor parking. Murray's nowhere to be found; Henry must have driven himself. He's wearing a blue button down that's rolled up over his forearms, jeans that hug his muscular legs, and a smile that says he's up to no good. When he sees me spot him, he motions for me to join him at the car. I walk over, but still keep my distance.

"You certainly weren't joking about showing up to talk as soon as I finished the exam. I kinda hoped I'd have a chance to sleep first, though."

He laughs and takes my bag, putting his arm around my shoulders and guiding me to the passenger side of his car. The warmth of his touch sears right through my flimsy cotton t-shirt. Ever the gentleman, he opens my door, closing it once I'm seated. I'm hit with the smell of something rich and savory, and my stomach growls like a wild animal in response. Then Henry gets in, and I'm enveloped by the scent of fresh linen and leather binding like what they use for those giant law journals. Great. Now I'm hungry for food and sex.

"Don't worry. The first thing I'm doing is taking you home to get some rest. If you're anything like I was, you're liable to sleep for twenty-four hours straight. You can fall asleep on the drive if you want, but I figured you'd be hungry. I remember being too nervous to eat much of anything when I took the test."

He places a to-go container in my lap and I waste no time tearing into it. It's filled with a chicken shawarma wrap, falafel, and tabbouleh—my frequent lunch order at BBS&P. I barely get my seatbelt buckled before taking a bite.

"Mmthank myou," I say around a mouthful of food. He laughs again and puts the car in gear.

Once we're on the highway, he breaks the comfortable silence. Well, silent except for the sound of me demolishing my Middle Eastern feast.

"So, how do you think you did?" he asks without looking at me, eyes locked on the road.

"I don't want to jinx anything," I hedge. There's no need to tempt fate just because I have a good feeling. But there is something to be said for manifesting the reality you want…

"Actually, screw that. I aced it," I amend, and take another big bite of my wrap. I can see amusement in the curve of Henry's mouth.

"As if there was any doubt. Between working at BBS&P, law school, and studying almost 24/7 for the past few months, you probably could've passed that test in your sleep. Still, I'll keep my fingers and toes crossed just in case."

I nod and go back to my meal. I'm so starving I'm not even embarrassed by how quickly I'm stuffing my face. It's his fault for getting me such a delicious meal.

He turns on the radio and we're serenaded by Top 40 hits…for all of ten minutes. Before I know what's happening, we've pulled into the driveway of an impressive Tudor-style house. There's a cobblestone path leading up to the front door, manicured bushes in front of the first-story windows, and tall trees surrounding us.

Henry takes my things from the backseat and jumps out of the car. When I don't immediately follow, he knocks on the passenger side window.

"Hey. Are you coming out?" He smirks at my bewildered expression and opens my door.

"Where are we?" I ask. If he's kidnapping me, at least he's not keeping me in a dungeon. Wait. Is there a dungeon?

"Home, like I said." He takes off up the sidewalk before I can ask any more questions and I follow him, still amazed. This house has to be at least 4,000 square feet!

He opens the heavy front door with a keypad and we enter a huge foyer complete with a chandelier because, of course he has a fucking chandelier. I'm suddenly very embarrassed about my little two-bedroom apartment. He makes a sweeping gesture toward exposed beams, arched doorways, and grand fireplaces. Ornate rugs sit atop pristine hardwood and rich leather couches make the space more inviting. This house could be in Architectural Digest.

"So, this is my place. I'll save the tour for after your nap."

I'm still speechless. He takes my hand and guides me up a staircase, past several open doors—a bathroom, what looks like his study, a guest room—and opens the door to what must be the master suite. I stare agog at the king size bed in the middle.

"Henry…your place. It's seriously impressive." Is it weird that this house is making me wet? He smiles with pride and puts my things on a chaise lounge chair by the window.

"Thanks. I had a decorator come in, so I can hardly take the credit. My brothers tease me, saying it's nothing like the city, but that's what I love about it." He strides to a walk-in closet I didn't even see when I came in and comes out with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts.

"These should fit you, but let me know if they don't and I'll find something else. The bathroom's in there." He points to the right before heading back into the closet.

The bathroom is just as outrageous as the rest of the house. First off, it's bigger than my college dorm. There's a jacuzzi tub with jets. The rain head shower has marble tiles on three sides. Hell, even the double vanity is marble. Weird or not, this house is definitely making my lady parts tingle.

I should maybe shower—I definitely sweat through my shirt during the exam—but I'm just too exhausted. Henry's shirt stretches tightly across my sizable breasts, but it'll be fine for a nap. The shorts, however, are another story. They barely make it halfway up my thighs. I leave them in a heap with my other clothes by the toilet ( which has a fuckin' bidet! ) and look at myself in the mirror. My curves are curvin' right now!

I'm sure Henry won't mind me sleeping bottomless. I peek through the door at the bed and sigh. It sucks I'm too tired to jump his bones right now. Between the ride, the food, and the resort-level accommodations, he's definitely earned it.

I come back into the room to find Henry getting into the bed in just his boxers.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Henry pats the spot on the bed next to him.

"What does it look like? I'm taking a nap."

"I thought I was taking a nap. You know. Alone ." He pats the spot again.

"Nope," he says, popping the P. "We're taking a nap together because I haven't had a good night's sleep since you left." I wobble on my knees before righting myself against the mattress. That's major .

He pats the bed again and I finally get in. When he rolls over and wraps his arms around me, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like we've always been big spoon and little spoon.

I instinctively arch my back into the hardness behind me, and he squeezes a boob in retaliation.

"Hey! No hanky panky! Sleep first."

I giggle through a pout, snuggle deeper against his chest, and immediately fall asleep.