AllFreeNovel
Share Us
34
We all pile upstairs. Kate heads further down the hall finding a small box room to get changed in. She stands on the threshold of the room and grimaces.
“Asia might be into sharing…” she laughs awkwardly, her voice trailing off.
“Go ahead,” Ford responds, crossing the hallway and pushing open the door to a large room with twin beds. “Us guys can take this room. Asia can have the one with the en-suite.”
“No,” Camden says, pushing off the wall and swiping a hand over his head. “As much as I like you guys, I need a moment with Asia. I’ll share this room with her.” He opens the door behind me and walks into the bedroom without a backward glance. He doesn’t ask permission or even see if I’m in agreement, he justdoes.
Sonny grins, his beautiful dimples winking at me. “Looks like Camden needsa moment,” he says chuckling.
“Erm…” I start, looking over my shoulder at Camden who’s already pulling off his wet coat and shoes. Well, this isn’t awkward much.
Eastern gives me a gentle kiss. “Go get warm,” he murmurs against my lips before following Sonny into the bedroom opposite. “I need to lie down anyway. My body still thinks it’s on the boat.” I watch him as he flops down on one of the twin beds, not even bothering to remove his wet clothes, leaving me standing awkwardly with Ford.
“I…”
“Heneedsyou. Go easy on him, okay?” Ford says before entering the bedroom behind Sonny and Eastern, shutting the door with a gentle click.
Well, I guess that’s it then. Looks like I’m sharing with Camden.
Along the corridor, Kate peers around her door. She gives me a knowing smile, then whispers, “You might want to be a little quieter this time seeing as there’s an old lady sleeping up here. You don’t want to be responsible for giving her a heart attack with all the noise.”
“Oh, shut up,” I retort. If I had something to throw at her, I would.
Entering the room, I can already hear water running and the sound of Camden moving about in the bathroom. There’s a trail of wet clothes littering the bedroom floor. I follow them like breadcrumbs, my nerves firing and a sudden onset of guilt making me doubt myself. I know he said he doesn’t blame me for his mum’s death but that doesn’t stop me from feeling responsible.
Dropping my rucksack, and relieving myself of my coat, shoes and socks on the floor, I push open the bathroom door. Despite everything that’s happened and everything that’s still to come, I know that there are things we need to discuss, and I might not get the chance again. Swallowing my sudden nervousness, I step into the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind me.
Camden is standing completely naked in front of the shower, his hand under the stream of water as he waits for it to heat up. It’s a surprisingly large room, and there’s a moment when he doesn’t realise I’m there. I take the time to soak in all the gloriousness that is this Camden. He’s stunning. Strong, powerful, brave, but when he rests his hands against the side of the shower cubicle and drops his head between his shoulders, he’s vulnerable. I feel his grief as though it’s my own. Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I quietly remove my clothes, stripping down completely. If he’s willing to bare himself, then I should too.
“Hey,” I say gently, padding over to him. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t look up. He just remains where he is. I reach out to touch him, my hand resting on his shoulder. “Cam…?”
“I’m fucking lost, Asia,” he admits, slowly drawing around to face me and even though there are no tears, I feel the heavy weight of his loss. His shoulders sag with it. This moment of reprieve has only given him the opportunity to think and I want to soothe him, heal his hurt. It’s a powerful feeling, this need to comfort him.
“Come here.”
He walks into my open arms, pressing his forehead onto my shoulder, wincing when his swollen cheek presses against the hollow of my neck.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper against his skin, feeling sick with guilt, with worry, knowing my words are worthless but saying them anyway. My apology tastes bitter on my tongue. Wrong.
Our bodies are pressed up against each other. His skin as ice cold as mine.
“I don’t blame you.I don’t,” he mutters into my hair, his arms tightening around my waist as he draws in a deep breath.
My hands grasp hold of him, my fingers digging into his back. I want to wrap myself around him. I want to climb beneath his skin. I want to take away all of the hurt. I want to share in his pain, ease his burden. Instead, I untangle myself from his hold and pull him under the warm spray of the shower.
There are no words I can say that will stop the pain he’s feeling. No words that will bring back his mum, his sister. All I have to share with him is this overwhelming love I feel. Love for a boy whose art I’ve adored from a distance. Love for this boy who hurt me then healed some of my own pain. The only thing I can give him in return is myself.
He stands before me, allowing the water to run over his skin, allowing me to see right inside the very heart of him as he falls apart a little. He’s holding back, I know. Trying to remain strong in the face of such adversity. Even though he doesn’t let go entirely, I know that there are depths to his pain that will unravel over time, and I make a pact to shoulder that pain for him. For us both. When it comes, and it will come, I’ll be there to bear the brunt of it.
Reaching for the bottle of shower gel, I pour a small amount in my hand then start washing him gently. Starting with his shoulders, I work my fingers over the hard muscle, easing some of the tension there before sliding them down over his pecs. All the while he remains unmoving. He allows me to wash him, to soothe the pain as much as I can. My hands glide over his chest and stomach, each caress peppered with kisses. Tenderness is the only thing I can offer in the moment. I hope it’s enough.
“Asia…” his voice breaks when I crouch before him, placing a gentle kiss against his hip bone. I’m aware of his growing erection, and though I want nothing more than to take him in my mouth, I make no attempt to initiate that level of intimacy. His reaction is a physical response to our nakedness and touches, and not necessarily what he can handle mentally right now. I’m not assuming anything. Standing, I swipe away at the water and the tears mingling on his cheeks. My heart hiccups in my chest at the loss he shares and when, eventually, his gaze flicks from my eyes to my mouth and then my breasts, my heart implodes with the desire I see. The need.
“I want you…” He reaches for me, one hand cupping my cheek whilst the other swipes wet tendrils of hair back off my face. “I’ve waited, but I can’t anymore. I want you so much, Asia.”
That admission, that hunger, is all it takes to turn the tenderness into something even more powerful. I see it, Ifeelit.
