The moment we were hidden, his mouth was on mine again, fierce and demanding, and I melted into him, every nerve screaming for more.
His hand shoved beneath my shirt, greedy, urgent, finding my breast and filling his palm with it. He squeezed hard, thumbdragging over the tight bud until I moaned into his mouth. He swallowed the sound like it was his, groaning deep in his chest, the vibration rumbling against my lips.
“Fuck, Sloane,” he rasped, his breath hot and broken as he tore his mouth from mine only long enough to kiss down my jaw, biting at the skin of my throat. “I’m so hard right now.”
His teeth scraped me, his tongue soothed me, each kiss rougher, wetter, hungrier. His free hand gripped my hip, dragging me flush against his body, and I felt the hard, demanding proof of how badly he wanted me.
Every nerve in my body lit up, heat flooding me so fast it left me trembling. I arched into his touch, desperate, aching for all of him. Maybe it was the risk of being caught in the locker room, perhaps it was the way he looked at me, flushed and beautiful and utterly mine. Whatever it was, it set me on fire. I had never been this hungry, this reckless, and I couldn’t hold myself back another second.
I turned away from him, facing the wall, and instantly, he pressed against me, his hardness pressing relentlessly, each movement rough and maddening, sending fire through me.
He yanked my pants down, the rubber waistband stretching in his grip. I could hear him fumbling with his own pants when suddenly, the door creaked open.
Craig had returned.
“Fuck,” Cameron cursed, yanking my pants back up.
I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle a giggle, glancing up at him. He was grinning too. “We’ll finish this at home,” he murmured. He hesitated, then corrected himself, “At your place, I mean.” Another pause hit us as heavy footsteps drew closer. “Come on. Quick. This way.”
We weaved between the lockers, staying low and careful. Ahead, Craig strode toward the exhaust, utterly unaware of us sneaking behind him. Beanie on his head, earbuds likely stuffed in his ears, probably lost in one of his usual horror story podcasts.
When we reached the door, I held my breath, heart hammering as Cameron pushed it open. We slipped outside, scanning quickly to see if anyone had noticed, but in this part of the hospital, the hallway was mostly empty. At this hour, most people were at lunch, and no one paid us any attention.
“That was fun,” Cameron said, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
I laughed, unable to stop. “We’re too old for this!”
He chuckled, nodding. “Definitely not stealthy enough.”
“We did this a few times back then, remember?” he murmured, his voice soft as he pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. “I could never get enough of you. Even after all these years, that hasn’t changed.”
“I remember,” I whispered, letting the memories wash over me. “Those were our good moments.”
“The best,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“We can do it again,” I suggested.
He grinned, teasing. “Might have to break the exhaust to get the locker empty again.”
“Or perhaps we don’t need to,” I said, pressing closer. “We can do it anytime at home.” I paused, searching his eyes. “Our home.”
His gaze held mine, as if looking for reassurance, for confirmation.
“Come back home, Cameron.” I pressed myself to him, tiptoed, and kissed him softly. “It’s time.”
Istood quietly in the kitchen, watching Cameron and Harper on the living room floor. Plastic cups were lined up as pins, and Harper rolled a soft ball toward them. It veered off to the side until Cameron, with a dramatic gasp, leaned down and gave it a gentle push with his hand, sending it straight into the cups. Two toppled over, and Harper’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained.
Cameron threw up his hands in defeat, collapsing to the floor as Harper pounced on him, their laughter spilling through the room.
My chest ached with a tenderness I couldn’t put into words. This was the kind of moment I wanted to keep forever, to carry with me on the hard days. Their joy and love were my reminders, my reasons for continuing to strive to be better.
Before the moment could last, Harper tugged at his sleeve, insisting he set the cups back up. Cameron didn’t hesitate, restacking them with playful exaggeration as if each one were precious and fragile. He would have given her anything she asked for—anything at all—and Harper already knew she had his whole world.
Harper finally noticed me. “Mommy, is dinner ready?”
“Yes,” I said with a smile. “Come on, let’s eat.”
“Yay!” She jumped up, leaving her dad and the neatly stacked cups he had just finished setting up. She ran past me toward the dining table, already eager for food.
