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Like a dream.
Like this weekend.
We stay in that state all night.
As we grab dinner at a hole in the wall restaurant with amazing Kung Pao.
Ae we walk to the ice cream shop with the chiffon yellow walls and I tell him about Eve and Indigo and how scared I am of losing my sister or life changing.
I want the world for her; I do.
But I miss the home we used to have too.
He orders the non-dairy mint chip to tease me, but when I try it, I have to admit, it's really fucking good.
We walk up to Washington Square Park, and I show him around campus, the outside at least. I show him where I get coffee, where I study, where I break for lunch most days.
He smiles as he imagines me there, imagines my life, and maybe where he'd fit into it.
Or maybe that's me.
I don't mention it, but I let my thoughts wander. I let myself consider how Cam could fit into my every day.
Would I live with him one day in some grand apartment in the Financial District? Or maybe a modern loft? A charming place in the Village, near school?
I'm here for the next four years, but after that… I don't know. I always imagined myself staying in New York City, but then I never considered falling for a handsome British billionaire.
Would he live here for me? For four years?
Forever?
Would I leave my sister and move to London?
She'd have plenty of reason to visit, but it's still strange to imagine. In all my many visions of my life, I always prioritized staying near her. Even when my only option was a Division I soccer scholarship, I planned to attend the university closest to New York City. (My life would have been so much easier if Columbia offered me a full ride).
And now…
I guess this is how it works. Growing up. Changing.
For her. For me.
For Cam too.
After a long talk at the fountain in Washington Square Park, we take the car to his hotel room, and he guides me to the bedroom, strips me out of my clothes, binds my arms over my head, and he fucks me.
He's still firm and in control, but it's a little softer, a little slower, a little more of him yielding to me.
I finally understand how Indie talks about sex.
It's really good like this too. Special in a different way. Intimate in a different way.
But not as fun as him ordering me out of my clothes.
After, he runs a bath, helps me clean, puts me to bed.
It's all softness, all tenderness, all love.
Well, something like it.
Not what I expect.
Better.
So much better.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Cam
It should feel wrong, climbing into bed next to Sienna—
At the very least, it should feel temporary.
But it doesn't.
I love the feel of her body against mine. I love the sight of her long limbs tangled in the white sheets, her hair falling over the pillow, her chest rising and falling with her slow, steady breaths.
I fall asleep quickly. Wake rested and refreshed and ready to torture her as much as possible.
I wash, dress, finish some necessary work, make an excuse for why I can't see Ty.
She wakes a little later. Emerges from the bedroom with tired eyes and an adorable yawn. "Why did you let me sleep?"
"You looked tired."
"But…" She tugs at the sheer t-shirt covering her torso. "We could have had sex."
I shake my head.
"Why not?"
"You need your energy."
"You know, you really talk big." She lets out another yawn. "You're setting yourself up to fail."
"Have I not lived up to your expectations?"
She tries to shrug maybe, maybe not but it only lasts a few seconds. She smiles wide, her entire expression bright and warm. "You have an entire day. Are you really going to spend it making me come?"
"What do you think I'm going to say?"
"Yes, Sienna, I dream about your bliss. It's all I want in the world."
"Most of it."
She moves closer. "So…"
"I enjoy making you wait."
She makes a show of pouting but it's as short-lived as her shrug. She crosses the room and wraps her arms around me.
I pull her into a soft, slow kiss.
It's sweet, gentle, romantic.
There's nothing carnal about it. Sure, I want her. I want to throw her against the wall and fuck her until she's screaming my name.
But I want to claim her like this too. Not just her body but her head and her heart.
Mine, mine, mine.
It echoes through my head like a whisper. Like a memory.
I haven't wanted that in fifteen years, but right now, I do.
Of course, I want more; it's the one woman I can't have. That must be why I want more.
I can't have it. So it's safe to want. It's safe to want to offer my heart to someone entirely off-limits, because I can't.
I can tell myself it's the circumstance or loyalty or duty or anything but my inability to love.
