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I let him fill me up, claim me, make me understand I was the only woman, the one who held his attention. It didn’t matter what tomorrow held. In this moment I didn’t care about anything but being with him.
And when we both found that completion, and he filled me up in the most basic of senses, he pulled out and lay beside me. He held me, pushed my hair from my face, and stared into my eyes. The tattoos, his scars, the life he’d led and the one he continued to lead, didn’t mean anything in that moment. It was just a man and a woman.
It was just us.
I pulled back and looked at him. This mask was on his face once more, that darkness that recognized me so well, that related to me like the other half of my soul.
“Maybe I don’t have to leave.” I didn’t know if he’d answer, didn’t know if he’d react. He was silent, still—his hand still on my body, his focus still on me. And then his jaw hardened, his eyes went flat, and I knew, justknew, come morning, he wouldn’t be in the bed with me. Whatever internal battle he was dealing with was not something I would be allowed to witness.
I don’t know if that broke my heart or reminded me that this was exactly who I’d fallen in love with.
* * *
The next morning
I slowly opened my eyes,the sun coming through the partially opened blinds washing over me, an invisible blanket of heat, comfort. I was alone in bed. I knew that without even turning and looking at Cameron’s side. This longing took place right in the center of my chest, this pressure, this emptiness.
I would go home today, or whatever my shitty apartment could be called.
A part of me hoped Cameron would force me to stay, make me his prisoner…only his. I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt this way, clutching at this feeling of being alive, of not being alone anymore. He was hard in all ways, indifferent, cold.
But when he looked at me, I saw something shift. I felt it in him, this wave crashing to the surface, brutal, violent almost, but also so beautiful.
I didn’t want to move, just wanted to let the situation filter over me, consume me, take me under until I was one with it. But the sound of the door opening had me glancing over, hoping, wishing it was Cameron.
I wanted him to tell me I was his, only his, that he wouldn’t let me go. I wanted to be his prisoner. I wanted to be the woman he turned to in order to find that pleasure.
I wanted to be his outlet, because in the end that’s who and what he was to me. I knew things wouldn’t be the same without him in my life, giving me that beautiful torment, that painful pleasure.
But it was the maid, her focus on the ground, her hair in a severe bun. She set a tray on the end of the bed, not speaking to me, and turned to leave. The door had only been shut for a moment or two before there was another knock. I pushed myself up on the bed and brought the sheet to my chin.
I was naked, my body pleasantly sore, my inner thighs sticky from Cameron’s release just last night. There was another knock, and then I finally called out for them to enter.
Damien pushed the door open, his focus trained on my face before he glanced down at the ground. “Cameron has business to attend to, but he instructed me to inform you that after breakfast, and once you’re dressed, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
God, my throat was so dry, and this anxiety started to consume me, pulling me further under, making me feel uncomfortable. “I won’t see him before I leave?”
I hated that I felt so small, so vulnerable right now. I loathed the fact that Cameron made me feel like this and was either too afraid or too much of a bastard to face me himself. I knew I wasn’t hiding my emotions well, knew I was glaring. But Damien, being the stone statue he was, said nothing.
“I’ll be downstairs waiting when you’re ready.” He looked at me, and if he was the type of man to show any emotion, I might have thought he felt sorry for me. Yeah, I felt sorry for me too.
I’d let my emotions get the best of me, allowed them to hold on tight and not let go.
And then he left me alone, and I sat there staring at the tray of food. I would not let this control me. I couldn’t, because if I did, there would be no one there to help me out of the hole when it was all said and done.
* * *
I sat alonein the back of the car, the scent of leather filling my head, but there was also the slight aroma of the cologne Cameron wore. I hadn’t seen him when I left the room and met Damien downstairs, but then again, I hadn’t expected to.
He was a coward, if a killer could be one. He’d fucked me last night, even held me as I fell asleep, but come morning he’d been gone. He hadn’t even given me the decency or respect to say good-bye.
We entered the city and I stared out the window, watching the buildings pass by, seeing the people oblivious to anything that wasn’t right in front of them. I assumed Damien was taking me back to the apartment building, but I didn’t want to go there.
“Stop,” I said loudly enough I was sure Damien heard. “Pull in here.” He didn’t question me, just pulled into the driveway and found a parking spot. For a second I stared at the run-down motel, watching the few people loiter on the top balcony, their cigarettes hanging from their mouths, their hair and clothes greasy.
I was sure drug deals, even some prostitution went on here. Before I could get out, Damien was climbing out of the car and opening the back door for me.
I was thankful he kept his mouth shut, didn’t hassle me on the shithole place I wanted to be dropped off at. But the little I had was at the apartment, a place I didn’t want to go back to, but would probably end up having to in order to at least survive until the next day.
