Heading upstairs and to the guestroom, I let out a relieved sigh. One problem down.
And as I hear a familiar Mustang pull into our circular, gravel drive, I grin.Time to fix something a bit more exciting.
It takes Cameron all of two minutes to reach my new quarters, bursting through the door. His blond hair is matted with sweat, his work uniform dirty, and the smell of motor oil lingering on his skin.
God, I’m so in love.
“Hey,” he breathes, walking toward where I sit on the edge of the bed. “How are your wounds?”
I take his hips in my hands, overwhelmed immediately by the feel of him as I situate him between my thighs.
“I feel great,” I tell him. “Better now.”
Cameron flushes, the bright pink making the stormy gray of his eyes vivid, a depth so deep I could happily drown in them.
“Okay,” he whispers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“How was work?”
“Ugh.” Cameron rolls his eyes, his smile dropping away as he melts in my hands. “So long. The whole day I could barely concentrate; I just kept thinking about how lonely it was to sleep in my own bed again last night.”
Andthisis the perfect segue. What a perfect man.
“Speaking of that,” I start, tightening my grip on his hips. Cameron freezes, his eyes rounding as he looks down at me hesitantly. “I want to come next time.”
“W-what?”
“Yeah. I said you’re never leaving my side, so if you need to go home, I’ll go too.”
“No.”
The answer is so short, sofinal, that my eyes narrow at him.
“No?” I repeat, and he can sense the dangerous edge to it, shrinking in on himself.
“Uh, yeah. No.” He clears his throat. “It’s just not… not the right time?” Cameron’s tone rises in pitch, making his statement more of a question.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I press.
He seems to steel himself—squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. “It means you can’t come to my house.”
“I’vebeenat your house,” I counter.
“No, you’ve been outside of my house. Once. And then technically inside a few times, but that wasn’t really you.” A deep sorrow flashes over his features, the same way it always does when he talks about the demon and how it came to him, and I hate it.
I hate it so much.
“Then letmecome inside. What, are you still hesitant for people to know about us? I can pretend I’m your friend if you’d like.” The thought of it is crushing, but his comfort is my priority, and I’d hate to make him upset.
“No, it’s not that,” Cameron says, shaking his head. “After everything, ifthatstill concerned me, I’d be a laughingstock.”
“Then what is it?”
He sighs, attempting to pull away from me, but I don’t let him. “I just… I don’t want you to see.”
Standing from the bed, I drag my hands up his body until I’ve grasped his cheeks. Normally, I’d hook a hand around the back of his neck, but ever since that night, I can’t really touch him—or anyone else—on the throat without wanting to throw up.
Well, touching with myhands. Other body parts… well, that’s fine.
