His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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........................................
NOAH
She's here. In my space. And it feels...right.
Cam stands, slightly awkward, taking everything in. My heart's doing this odd thing, beating fast but feeling heavy. Like it's working harder, knowing it has to keep up.
She's padding around, looking at the carpets now. Casually—evasively, really—she asks, "What's your favourite history quote?"
I walk closer, then right past her, ignoring the way her sweet scent fucks with my head. I head to the farthest bookshelf and run my hands along the spins.
"The only thing we learn from history is that we learn nothing from history. Georg Hegel."
From behind me, she says, "I thought you'd say those who can't remember the past are doomed to repeat it."
"George Santayana," I acquiesce with a tilt of my head, scanning the books, looking for nothing. "A close second. It's all relevant. You ready to talk?"
She's quiet for a while, so I turn around.
Her gaze falls to my mouth, and even across the room, I still feel the warmth of her breath, her lips soft and perfect.
I laid everything on the line, didn't I? Intentions, promises, wants. And mostly what I felt from her was fear.
Cam pulls two layers of sweaters off her torso, revealing a massive white shirt that swallows her frame. There's a blue bra beneath, somewhat visible under the thin fabric. She fiddles with the sweaters, then points to the small table by the balcony. "Can I put these there?"
I nod. So, she does, setting them carefully beside a fern plant like she'll break something.
"I just... I was hot," she explains.
The light shirt hangs off her like a flag, at least six or seven sizes too big. But her wrists and forearms, that tanned, smooth skin—visible. I drink the sight in, never knowing I'd be so intrigued by this small reveal.
I remain rooted by the shelves, unwilling to move unless invited like some kind of monster in my own space. Like a cat who's lured a mouse.
Maybe I am a monster, a greedy one with teeth, ready to tear into something real and raw and honest for the first time.
I say, "If you get on the bed and lay on your back, I'll show you something."
Her lips part, eyes wide in shock.
I smirk a little, pointing to the ceiling. "I saw you looking at the star map."
Her mouth clamps shut, a dark berry flush on her cheeks.
Cam shuffles toward the bed, her movements a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. When she finally crawls onto it, positioning herself in the center, she lies on her back, her gaze fixated upward, hands clamped and fidgeting over her stomach.
