Chapter 14 #3
I sat there for a long time, trying not to think but to simply breathe.
If only memories could be deleted as simply as files.
It was a start, a step in the right direction.
It was time to move forward.
I had no idea how long I’d lain there unable to sleep.
At one point I caught the sound of running water.
After an hour or maybe even two, I gave up lying in bed wide awake and got up to get a glass of water.
As I came out of my room, I saw the lights were still on.
The flat was quiet except for the faint scratch of pencil on paper.
Cameron sat on the couch, propped up on pillows, bare-chested, his hair damp from a shower. A sketchbook lay open in front of him, the page half-shadowed by his body.
“You’re still awake,” I said in a low voice.
Cameron looked up at me, and my heart stuttered at the sight of his chest, the bronze circles of flesh surrounding taut nipples, the line of his jaw.
The outline of his cock tenting the grey joggers.
Fuck, he’s beautiful.
My heart hammered as I closed the gap between us.
Cameron’s chest rose sharply, his lips parted, and I couldn’t resist a second longer.
I sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat pouring off him, and leaned in, our noses brushing.
Cameron’s breathing hitched, and a heartbeat later, his fingertips grazed my neck as our lips met, tentative, almost shy, and as slow as clouds across a summer sky.
I traced the line of Cameron’s jaw with my thumb, deepening the kiss, loving the soft moan he fed me.
I shifted on the sofa, pinning him to it with my weight, conscious of the way he arched up to meet me.
I felt him then, the hardness of him, pressing against my own stiff shaft, and the mood slipped from slow and sweet to wild and tumultuous.
The world narrowed to breath and heat and the wild stutter of heartbeat against heartbeat.
I let myself drown in the taste of him, the sound he made when my hand cupped the back of his neck, the way the ground seemed to tilt under us.
“Yes,” Cameron moaned.
That single word hit me like ice water, and what came to mind wasn’t Gary, or rules, or propriety, just the sudden, piercing clarity of what came next.
If I didn’t stop now, I wouldn’t stop at all.
I tore my mouth away, my chest heaving. Cameron’s eyes were wide, blown with surprise and something else—trust, want, too much of everything I’d spent years controlling.
“Wait,” I said, my voice rough. “Just—wait.”
Cameron froze beneath me, confusion flickering across his face.
I pushed back, running a hand through my hair. My fingers shook.
“This isn’t—” I stopped, searching for air. “It’s not that I don’t want—”
“You do,” Cameron said quietly.
I closed my eyes. “That’s the problem.”
I stood, every muscle arguing with me, and forced my breathing to slow. I could still feel the heat of Cameron’s skin on my palms, the imprint of the kiss. It was chaos, beautiful and terrifying.
“If we start this now,” I managed, “I won’t be able to think. And if I can’t think, I’ll ruin it.”
“Ruin what?”
“This,” I said softly. “Whatever this could be.” The words hung there, awkward, honest, trembling on the edge of confession. I stepped back another pace, trying to rebuild the wall that had just crumbled.
“Go to sleep, Cameron.”
Cameron sat up, searching my face. I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Please,” I added, quieter now. “Before I change my mind.”
I turned away, retreating to the hallway, leaving behind the faintest echo of my own heartbeat. The door to my room closed, and I leaned against it, shaking, the taste of Cameron still burning on my tongue.
God help me. I’ve already ruined it.
Cameron
The room still hummed with the ghost of a touch. I sat there, breathing hard, my skin fire and ice at the same time.
Did I just dream that?
I hadn’t meant for it to happen, not that exact moment, but I’d wanted it. Then Theo was there, looking like every rule I’d ever wanted to break, and suddenly it was happening.
And then he stopped it.
I pressed my palms over my eyes, trying to catch up. Theo’s words kept replaying, the way his voice had cracked on I’ll ruin it.
That wasn’t rejection I’d heard but fear.
I swallowed hard, forcing my breathing to calm down. I wasn’t angry—I couldn’t be. Theo’s control was as much armour as habit; I’d seen that from the start. What hurt wasn’t being stopped—it was seeing the cost of it written all over Theo’s face.
I looked at the couch, the sketchbook fallen open to a half-finished drawing, a faint smudge where Theo’s hand had brushed the page.
“Ruin it,” I whispered to the empty room. “You couldn’t if you tried.”
I debated going to Theo’s door and knocking, asking to be heard, but I didn’t dare. Instead, I closed the sketchbook, turned off the lamp, and climbed between the sheets.
Sleep didn’t come for a long time. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look in Theo’s, the want, fear, and longing, all tangled together,
Maybe what scares him isn’t losing control. Maybe it’s what happens if he finally lets go.