Down On My Knees: Silver Tongued Devils, #3

By Samantha Conley

Will I be the one down on my knees, or will she?

Camryn's nerd-girl tendencies have served her well academically. It has always been her personal life that had her barely able to tread water. Years of abuse and ridicule from the one person that should have loved her best has made Camryn hide away from the rest of the world, content to stay in the background. When her long-term relationship ends, she's ready to be done with love altogether. It's not worth the hurt. Not to her.

A rock star. A man-whore. A guy nobody expects to settle down. Isaac has known Camryn for years, but he's never seen as her anything but a friend. Until now. Camryn is everything he wants in life and exactly what he needs. He just needs to convince her how good they'd be together.

But both Camryn and Isaac have secrets, and when they're revealed, it could ruin everything before it even begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha Conley
• Release date: Feb 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9781963866025

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Camryn – 10 years ago

Move your fat ass, Camryn! I’m going to be late, and if I don’t get to see Mitch before school, I’m going to kick your lard ass up and down the road.

Hold your freaking horses, I mutter under my breath, grabbing my blue backpack from the foot of the bed.

Cam, Addy, let’s go! Bryson’s deep voice bellows up from the bottom of the stairs.

Don’t yell at me! Lard ass is the reason we’re running late, Addy screams back. Her words spear me straight in the heart, as I blink back tears, even though I know that she’s just a spiteful little witch who loves to hurt me. Self-conscious, I pull on the hem of my shirt so it won’t cling as tight to my stomach.

Shut up, Addy. It’s probably your two hours of primping in the freaking bathroom.

Opening my door, my sister pauses and looks me up and down in obvious disgust. Couldn’t you at least try to look decent? I can’t believe I’m even related to you, she sneers.

You and me both, I retort.

Leaning toward me, she whispers, You’re fucking pathetic, Cam. I hope Mom and Dad change their mind about sending you off to school so I don’t have to see your ugly face anymore.

With a toss of her long, perfectly straight blonde hair, she

flounces out the door. No matter how much I don’t want her to get to me, she still makes me the outsider in my own home—always feeling alone.

Which is why my sister is griping about being late. I don’t go to school with the two of them, but for whatever reason, my parent’s make us share a car. That means we must drive five miles out of the way to drop me off at school. South Texas Advanced Placement Academy. Nerd Central. The one place I don’t feel like someone on the outside looking in.

There could not be two more opposite people in the world. My sister, Addyson, is eleven months older than Bryson and me. She’s a replica of my mother. Petite, blonde, and perfect—perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body. But the beauty on the outside is only matched by the ugliness on the inside.

I watch as she glides down the stairs in her tight denim skirt and low-cut blouse—which would get any other girl sent home from school for breaking dress code. Not my sister.

Glancing down, I wipe the crumbs from my white Harry Potter t- shirt. Boobs are the ultimate crumb catcher. Hefting my bag over my shoulder, I slide my black glasses back up my nose and trudge down the carpeted stairs. When I clear the bottom step, I turn, knocking Bryson with my bag. He grabs his arm dramatically like I really hurt him. With a quick grin, he lifts the bag from my shoulder and pretends to stagger under the added weight to make me smile.

Unlike my sister, we take after our dad. Curly red hair, honey eyes, big boned. At sixteen, Bryson is six-foot-five and a solid two hundred and twenty pounds. He’s the star of the football team, the basketball team…well, he’s the star at whatever he does.

I’m not athletic in any sense, no matter how hard I try. My mother has politely described me as Rubenesque while looking at me with disdain. I developed early and became the target for the boys in school once I got boobs. Now I do my best to hide all my curves, so I won’t attract that sort of attention.

In this family, my siblings and I are put into categories. Addyson is the pretty one. Bryson is the athletic one. And me, well, I’m the smart one.

Too smart, I think at times. It’s another attribute that separates me from the rest of the family.

Don’t listen to her, Camryn. All she has upstairs is covered in a haze of hairspray. Don’t let her get to you. But we need to get a move on, or we’ll be late.

As he walks to the door, he looks back over his shoulder at me. Love you, sis.

Love you too, bro, I murmur before promptly tripping on the door threshold and landing face first on the wooden porch. What a way to start the day.

ONE

CAMRYN

December

Camryn, it’s just not working. We both know that. I care about you, but I’m not in love with you.

Watching Adam pace across the living room, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, I numbly absorb his words.

You want to break up? I ask, my disbelief apparent.

Pausing in front of me, he runs his hands through his hair, making the inky strands stand up in disarray, bicep stretching his shirt to the limit. Normally that sight would have me licking my lips knowing that those strong arms would be wrapped around me, but now I’ll never feel the warmth of his embrace

Are you happy, Cam? Really happy? ‘Cause I’m not, he says, the tone of his voice telling me he already knows the answer.

I am…I think.

You think? he asks, incredulous. If you only think you are, you’re not. I want you to be happy. You deserve that, and so do I.

You want to break up? Jeez, I sound like a damn parrot.

Kneeling on the carpet in front of me, Adam grips my cold hands in his and rests his forehead against them before looking up at me with sad gray eyes.

Cam, I love you, but I’m not in love with you. And I think we are better off apart. His eyes search my face before he continues. I want to fall in love with someone and spend the rest of my life with her. Have babies and grow old together.

Is there someone else? I try to control the tremble in my voice as I ask the question that has been plaguing me for months. The insecurity in the back of my mind is unrelenting.

There’s no one else, Cam, he breathes out. Has there been?

No, I haven’t cheated on you. He hesitates before he continues, guilt written on his face. I’ve been tempted, and I’ve come damn close, but I couldn’t do that to you. That’s not the kind of man I am.

Reaching up, he wipes tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen from my cheek.

This for the best, Camryn. You deserve to be loved like you are the air he breathes, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his soul. That’s not me. And you’re not for me. If we don’t let each other go, we’ll never find the piece of our heart that’s missing.

Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss on my forehead before

standing up.

I’ll always be here if you need me, Camryn. Always.

Turning, he strides to the door and picks up the black duffle bag I never saw sitting beside it. With one last look over his shoulder, he walks out of the door and out of my life, leaving me sitting there alone—again.

The ringing of the phone wakes me from an exhausted sleep. Blinking, I reach for the phone, my hand patting the table until I touch the device and grab it before it vibrates off the edge.

He— I croak before clearing my throat to try again. Hello?

Camryn? Hey, it’s Sarah. I’ll be there to pick you up a six tonight. That okay?

Huh? What’s tonight? I rack my brain, trying to remember, but my thoughts are fuzzy from my night of drowning my sorrows.

We’re going to see my boyfriend’s band play, remember? she asks, exasperated.

That’s tonight? I push back the long, red strands of hair covering my face.

Yes, silly. It’s New Year’s Eve. Is Adam going to meet us there? Uh…no, he’s not. I swallow around the lump in my throat.

We…um, broke up last night.

Oh, shit. Really? Shock bleeds into concern as she speaks. Yeah, and I’m not sure I feel like going out tonight.

Bullshit. You need to get out tonight and get him off your mind. Even if it’s just for a little while. You can drink and dance and have a good time. I’ll be the designated driver so you won’t have to worry about drinking too much, she orders like a drill sergeant.

Sarah, I’m not sure, I waver.

I’ll be there in three hours, and I’m dragging your ass out whether you want to go or not.

Sarah…Sarah? The silence on the other end of the line assures me she hung up.

Son of a bitch.

Pushing down the covers, I swing my legs off the side of the bed. With the movement, my stomach rolls and whatever’s left in there threatens to make a reappearance. Ugh, how much did I drink last night? I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, and my pulse pounds like a jackhammer in my head.

Glancing at the clock, I groan. It’s two in the afternoon. I’ve slept the day away. I make my way to the bathroom and flip on the light, blinding myself in the process. Blinking, my eyes adjust to the bright‐ ness of the room, and what I see in the mirror would scare small children. I am not a pretty crier. My eyes are red and puffy. I look like someone punched me. My face is splotchy, nose raw, hair tangled and matted to my head…

There’s no way I’m going to be presentable for tonight.

Turning on the hot water in the shower, I take off Adam’s Calloway Construction t-shirt and aim toward the hamper. Pausing, I take one last smell of the cologne clinging to the material, then drop it into the trash instead. I don’t need constant reminders of him lingering.

Steam billows from the shower as I open the curtain. Nothing in the world is better than a hot shower. The longer I stand under the spray, the better I feel, until the water starts to cool off. Before collapsing back on my bed, I down four ibuprofens and lay a cool, wet washcloth over my eyes.

Loud knocking jars me from sleep, and the now warm washcloth slides off my face, landing on the floor with a soft, wet plop. I stand up, waiting to see if my stomach is going to rebel as my towel drifts to the bed. I reach for my robe and wrap it around me while walking into the living room. Looking through the peephole, Sarah’s standing there with a big pink bag hanging from her shoulder, impatience written on her face. I lean my head softly against the door, contemplating whether to open it.

I’m not leaving, Camryn. You might as well open this door.

Flipping the lock, I open the door and step back as she barrels through.

Well, you look like shit, she blurts out. But no excuses, you’re coming out with me tonight. Move it, sister.

Hi to you, too, I mumble to her back as she walks into the living room.

Sorry, hon. I know this is a tough time for you. Let’s get you dolled up, and we’ll paint this town tonight.

I don’t get dolled up.

Tonight, you sure as hell are. I’m gonna raid your closet, but I brought back-ups if we need them. You’ll be smoking hot by the time I’m through.

I seriously have my doubts, but I can’t deny Sarah knows her stuff. I’m a bigger girl, so I always try to make myself as plain as possible to avoid drawing attention—dark clothes, sensible shoes, and a simple French braid to keep my curly hair tamed. Sarah, on the other hand, flaunts her goods. She may be a couple inches shorter than my five-nine, but she’s curvier than I am. She skirts the line between professional and club wear when at work. Cleavage should be her middle name. The length of her skirts could be considered scandalous for an office. And the four-inch heels she wears would cause me to break my neck. She never lacks attention from the opposite sex, though, and revels in the adoration. I can’t help but be a little jealous of her confidence.

Okay, hair and makeup first, or outfit? she asks, looking me over with a critical eye.

Um...

Outfit first, then I can decide how to do your makeup.

Throwing open my closet door, she begins rummaging through my clothes while clucking her tongue. All my sensible work clothes are in the front, but she quickly pushes them out of the way and reaches into the back of the closet.

Eureka! she yells as she backs out holding an emerald dress. This is going to be gorgeous on you. Spying the tags still attached to the garment, she asks, Why haven’t you worn this before?

Uh, I’ve never had a chance to, I guess. Kristen talked me into buying it, but I didn’t have the guts to wear something that low cut.

Tonight, you are gonna rock this dress.

I don’t think I’ll be comfortable in it. My upper arms will look horrible with all their extra flab, I think in disgust while imagining the jiggle with every motion.

Okay. Moving back to the closet to hang it up, she pauses. Wait, don’t you have that short denim jacket?

It’s somewhere in there, I think. I’ve only worn it once. Laying the dress on the bed, she goes back to digging through the clothes. After a couple minutes, she pulls the jacket out.

Now, shoes. Do you have cowboy boots? Actually, I do. They’re in the hall closet.

Perfect. Time for the hair. Get in the bathroom, sister. Her tone brooks no argument.

Let me grab a chair to sit on while you work your magic.

Half an hour of her applying goop and spray, my hair is shaped in perfect ringlets, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Usually when I leave my hair down, my curls just look like a big frizz ball.

How the hell did you do that? I can never make it look like this, I ask, running a finger over one of the tendrils.

The right products help, and from what I can see, you don’t have them. Don’t worry, I’m leaving the ones I brought for you.

Sarah… My eyes catch hers in the mirror.

I insist. I’m tired of you hiding your light under a bushel. You are a beautiful, smart woman. It’s time to shine, Camryn.

Tears pool in my eyes as her words make me feel pretty for the

first time.

None of that. Let’s get this makeup done. I’m not sure…

Trust me. I won’t do anything you won’t like. I’m not going to turn you into a Kardashian.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and steel my resolve. Okay. Go for it, I say, and she turns me, so I can’t see what she’s doing.

Twenty minutes and a Ta-da later, I turn to see the damage, and my mouth gapes open. It’s me, only better. I was afraid she was going to contour and highlight until none of me was left, but she didn’t. It’s…well, perfect. My eyes look amazing, and the colors she used make them pop. My lips are full and pouty. Just a touch of color on my cheekbones add a little definition.

You like it? she asks, tentative for the first time.

It’s…amazing.

The smile she bestows upon me would light up a room. It’s all you, girl. I just added a little polish. You look gorgeous.

Thank you. For everything. I clasp her hand resting on my shoulder as our eyes meet in the mirror.

You’re more than welcome. Time to get dressed so we can head out and have a fun time tonight. I’m going to get changed and do some touch-ups to my hair and makeup, she says while grabbing her bag and heading toward the bathroom. Oh, and, Camryn, she calls out, sexy underwear. She winks.

Why? Not like anyone’s going to see it.

But you’ll know it’s there, and it’ll make you feel sexy. And when you feel sexy, that’s what radiates from you.

She closes the bathroom door with a smirk, and I open my dresser drawer, taking in all the plain, cotton, not-so-sexy under‐ wear. Jeez, being with the same guy for years really does a number on your panty drawer. Feeling defeated, I start flinging my depressing collection to the floor when I finally spy some lacy material at the back and snatch it up. I had completely forgotten about this set.

Slipping them on, I bend over to adjust the girls in the cups and remember why I never wore this bra. Holy titties, Batman. Don’t overthink this, Cam.

Sliding the dress over my head, the soft material skims my curves without being too clingy. I glance at myself in the mirror, then look away before I start dissecting my flaws.

The bathroom door opens, catching my attention. Sarah saunters

out and lets out a wolf whistle.

Hot mama! Damn, Camryn, if I weren’t straight, I’d be on you like white on rice.

You sure it looks okay? Biting my lip, I look down, but I can’t see anything but a massive amount of cleavage. Curling my hands into fists, I resist the urge to adjust the top to cover up more of myself. "Okay? You look more than okay. You look fabulous. Let’s get you

some jewelry and finish you off."

After digging through my pitiful jewelry box, she finds a pair of gold hoop earrings and a few bangle bracelets. Slipping them on my arm, I pluck my jacket from the bed and head out to Sarah’s car, praying the night won’t be a total disaster. The dance floor is crammed as we make our way through the bar.