Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cameron
Theo was working at the desk, his brow furrowed in concentration.
I was sitting at my easel, my back to the window, letting the natural light—such as it was—flood over the canvas.
More importantly, all Theo could see was the back of the canvas.
He wouldn’t mind.
He’d be flattered.
Yeah, I knew Theo well enough by now to know those wouldn’t be his first reactions.
I put my paintbrush down and took a moment to take a long look at the results so far.
My tutor had liked the initial sketches. She liked the composition of the piece. And she loved the idea for my major piece. So did I, even if I wasn’t sure how I could accomplish it without Theo knowing.
Without him seeing.
And then there was the tiny but highly significant detail that the piece would probably end up in the college’s exhibition—and that was just for starters. Nora was pushing me to take risks with the painting, to push my boundaries.
I’d have to tell him.
I couldn’t do that to him.
Except I knew I was jumping the gun. I hadn’t even sketched the layout yet.
But I’d better do it soon.
My deadline was fast approaching.
I studied the Theo I’d captured on canvas: the line of his profile, the slope of his nose, the shape of his mouth.
I’ve painted him the way he exists when he thinks no one is looking. Not hiding or braced for impact, just himself.
Then the skin on my arms prickled, and I knew he was watching me.
I froze.
“What are you working on? I’ve never seen you this focused.”
I hesitated before I realised he’d have to see it sometime. I took a deep breath.
“Actually, it’s a painting of you.”
Theo stiffened. “Can… can I see it?”
Crunch time.
I nodded. “Come over here. The light is better.”
Theo got up from his chair, walked over to the window, and stood beside me.
His breath caught.
“Why would you paint me like that?”
I blinked. As compositions went, it was innocuous—Theo mid-conduction, his hand raised, his mouth open on a silent note, his eyes alive, his face unguarded.
It was raw, beautiful.
It was Theo.
My pulse spiked. “Because that’s how you look when you’re with the group. When you’re doing what you love.”
Theo’s jaw tightened. “No. That’s how I look when you see me.” His voice cracked.
“It’s me. All of me. And I didn’t ask for that.”
His words felt like a physical blow.
“I didn’t show anything bad,” I said in a low voice. “I showed something beautiful.”
Theo swallowed. “I think that’s worse. Because I don’t know how to be that person.”
My throat closed. I took a breath. “Yes, you do. This is the man who played Monopoly with me. Who took chances. You, Theo.”
Theo walked away, his body stiff, and in a flood of awareness, I saw the truth.
He wasn’t angry—he was terrified of being seen.
What scares him is being loved in a way he doesn’t feel he deserves.
I clenched my fists.
Luka sure did a number on you, didn’t he?
I hoped wherever that bastard was, he was in a lot of pain.
Theo
My skin felt flayed, every nerve exposed. I forced myself to take even breaths.
The painting wasn’t the problem. It was the fact that Cameron had seen me, truly seen me—and still wanted me. That level of intimacy?
It felt as though I was falling without a net.
I glanced at him, expecting to see hurt in those eyes.
All I saw was warmth.
Christ, I was shaking.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I just— I saw the painting and I panicked and I—”
Cameron crossed the room to join me.
“You don’t have to apologise for being overwhelmed,” he whispered.
“I don’t want to ruin this.”
Cameron smiled. “You’re not ruining anything.” He raised a hand and touched my cheek, and I closed my eyes as if the touch itself was a release. “I can stop painting you if
you—”
My heart hammered. “No. Don’t.” I opened my eyes to read his expression.
He blinked. “You don’t mind?”
I glanced over at the easel. “I mind, but not in a bad way.”
“What way then?”
I swallowed hard. “It feels as if you’re seeing things I spend my life trying to hide.”
Cameron stilled. “I’m not drawing what you hide. I’m drawing you.” He paused. “And you don’t have to hide from me.”
I exhaled shakily, a sound that was equal parts relief and fear.
“I don’t know what Luka said to you that—”
I froze. “This has nothing to do with Luka,” I blurted.
He blinked, and I sighed heavily. “I know I’m still dealing with the fallout from that relationship, but if I’m honest, I’d been dealing with a lot more before he even showed up.
Stuff I’m not ready to talk about.” I gazed at the portrait. “Keep painting.”
Cameron smiled. “Not right now. I have something else in mind.” His fingers were gentle on my cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
I nodded. Then I smiled. “I love it when you ask first.”
Soft lips met mine, coaxing, grounding, and I broke. Instead of feeling shame, what coursed through me was dangerous, soul-deep longing. I pulled him close and kissed him hard enough to bruise. Cameron moaned, tilting his head, letting me take what I needed.
I whispered against his neck. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
Cameron kissed along my jaw, my throat, my collarbone, slow, reverent, and hungry. I let out a gasp, loud and unrestrained.
Cameron smiled. “You’re allowed to make noise, remember? I want to hear you.”
Fuck.
He wanted me messy, alive.
Then he took my hand and led me to the bedroom.
I couldn’t argue, not when every breath I took only ramped up my desire, when that voice in my head screamed Take him.
Clothes fell away slowly, and I trembled through every second. I let him lead, listening to his staccato breaths, watching the light in his eyes as he made me naked, shivering at the touch of his hands on my body.
He pushed me onto my back, then spread me wide for him. I groaned at the feel of his tongue on my shaft, moaned as he licked a path along the underside, and shuddered as he flicked the head before taking it into his mouth.
My cock didn’t need much coaxing.
Cameron grabbed the lube and smeared slick fingers over my rigid shaft before reaching back to prep his hole. Then he climbed onto me, straddling my hips, kissing my mouth, my chest, my throat.
“Theo.” He looked into my eyes. “Let go.”
And I did. I moaned, loud, helpless, and wrecked, and Cameron kissed the sound right out of my mouth. Then he guided my cock to his hole and slowly sank down onto it.
This wasn’t a fuck—this was Cameron making love to me, worshipfully, with hands and mouth and whispered promises, guiding me through every wave of pleasure and fear and release.
He rolled his hips, and I held him there, helping him to impale himself over and over, loving the hoarse cries that tumbled from his lips.
My own cries filled my ears, and when I came, it was with a sound I’d never let another person hear, raw and broken.
Cameron kissed me through it. “That’s beautiful. I’ve got you.” More kisses. “I’ve got you.” My cock still buried in him, still throbbing. “I’ve got you.” Then he let out a lingering groan as he shot, warmth spattering my chest, his body racked by judders.
We collapsed together, breathless and shaking, and I pressed my face into Cameron’s neck.
“Was that okay?” My words were an echo of his from our game night.
Cameron laughed, and it sounded incredulous, awed, tender.
“Theo,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “That was everything.”
I believed him.
I wasn’t sure how we got to the Dove.
One moment, Cameron had been in the shower, singing, and the next he’d appeared in his towel, a tantalising sight that made me want to head straight back to bed.
“We should go out. Like… out-out. Together.”
“Like… a date?”
“Exactly like a date.”
I’d said yes before overthinking could save me.
The Dove was a pub by the river, the best place to watch the boat race from. Inside, everywhere was the gleam of varnished wood. A roaring fire burned in the fireplace, set into a brick chimney breast. We ate fish and chips and drank beer.
As first dates went, it was… different.
Cameron looked beautiful without even trying. He hadn’t dressed up, but had gone with jeans and a blue sweater that matched his eyes. His hair looked artfully unruly as usual.
The sight was enough to make it difficult for me to breathe.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“No,” I lied instantly.
Cameron smiled. “Okay, I’m nervous, so you’re not allowed to be perfect.”
I blinked. “I’m not—”
He cut me off with a grin. “Theo. You radiate intensity like other people radiate body heat.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
Cameron bumped our shoulders together. “That wasn’t a complaint.”
We’d got a corner table. It was private, quiet—intimate.
Cameron had ordered the food because my brain had refused to choose anything.
I watched his hands, the curve of his smile, the way he talked to the bartender as though he genuinely liked people. When he came back to the table, I sought for the right words.
“How are you this easy with strangers?”
Cameron shrugged. “People usually want to be understood. So I let them.” I stared at him, and he tilted his head. “Does that surprise you?”
I swallowed. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
He reached across the table, touching my hand lightly. “We don’t have to rush this. This doesn’t have to be anything huge tonight. It can just be… us. Sitting. Talking. Being together.”
My voice came out raw. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Cameron smiled, soft and bright. “Good. Then we’ll learn together.”
I let out a slow exhale, and the pressure in my chest eased.
“Okay.”
Cameron’s thumb brushed my knuckles. “Okay,” he echoed.
Our first date. No fireworks, no chaos, not even perfection, just two men sitting across next to each other, deciding to try.
The night air was cool enough to sober me, but not enough to quiet the heat under my skin.
Cameron walked beside me, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his shoulder brushing mine every few steps—accidentally or intentionally, I couldn’t tell.
Every time we touched, something low in my stomach tightened.
We’re not rushing. We’re just… together.
It felt fragile and somehow inevitable.
At the door to the flat, Cameron paused, watching me with that same devastating focus he’d had all evening.
“Tonight was good.”
I had to agree. “Yes.”
“You don’t have to look so shocked,” he teased.
“I’m not shocked.” Then I grimaced. “Okay, maybe a little.” I unlocked the door and he followed me inside. The moment the door shut, the air changed.
Cameron was in my space, the way he always managed to be without pushing too far.
He cupped my jaw gently and kissed me, an intimate connection full of quiet hunger.
A kiss that wasn’t about urgency, but about knowing.
I slid my hands to Cameron’s hips, pulling him closer without thinking. He threaded his fingers into my hair, and the kiss deepened.
Cameron murmured against my mouth, “You make me feel warm.”
I shuddered. “You make me feel everything.”
He kissed me again, longer, sweeter—hotter. When he finally broke away, both of us breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine. “Bedroom?”
I smiled. “You read my mind.”