Chapter 33
Knox
I want our last night together in Crystal Cove to be symbolic.
Nothing grand. Nothing fancy.
The aroma hits first: vanilla, butter, and that ever-present diner-coffee scent that never quite leaves the air. It’s ridiculous and perfect, and somehow, it feels like coming full circle.
“Something smells incredible.” Her voice drifts in, soft and curious. “Are you cooking without me?”
I turn, grinning as she steps into the kitchen wearing one of my many T-shirts she’d made her own and, if I had to guess, nothing underneath, her hair twisted into a loose bun.
“Nope. You know I only cook with you now.” I gesture toward the counter. “I ordered in.”
Her eyes dip to a set of takeout bags on the counter, steam curling through the air. Recognition flickers immediately. “Pier 24?”
“Pier 24,” I confirm, transferring food from the white containers onto plates. “Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and yes, a side of powdered sugar for the breakfast magician herself.”
Her lips part, a quiet laugh escaping. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything.” I nod toward the coffee cups on the table. “Even got you decaf this time.”
Her smile deepens, something tender flickering behind her eyes. “You’re kinda good at this.”
“I’m trying to make a lasting, summer-bubble memory.”
Cami steps closer, her palm flattening over my chest, right above my heart. She rises onto her toes and kisses me, slow and devastatingly hot. When she pulls back, her words come out quiet enough to almost miss. “You already have, in every single thing you do.”
A thud shatters the moment, followed by the skitter of tiny paws. Stripe darts across the floor, a blur of fur and attitude, with Shadow in hot pursuit. They ricochet off a chair leg, collide, and scamper toward the kitchen island like pint-sized maniacs.
Cami laughs, low and genuine. “They’ve officially entered their delinquent phase.”
“Guess they’re making the most of their last few days here before New York.” I watch them weave under the table before disappearing into the living room.
She leans against me, still smiling. “I’m going to miss this house.”
“Yeah, me too.” I squeeze her waist, thumb brushing her side. “Come on. Let’s eat before our pancakes get cold.”
We sit across from each other at the table, plates between us, the air sweet with Vermont syrup my grandma gave us, and nostalgia. Cami reaches for the small container of powdered sugar, pops the lid, and dusts it over her pancakes like she’s been doing it her whole life.
I can’t help watching her. The easy way she moves, the quiet focus in her expression. “Did you always do that? The powdered sugar thing?”
She pauses mid-sprinkle, a smile lighting up her face.
“Never used to. But now, whenever I have pancakes, or waffles, or French toast, I dust a little powdered sugar on top as a reminder of what my therapist once told me when I was going through hell: I don’t need to rewrite the past—just edit my future and sprinkle in happiness like powdered sugar on pancakes. ”
I lean back, a slow smile forming. “Wow. That’s…actually brilliant.”
“She’s brilliant.” Cami cuts into her stack and takes a bite. “Taught me that bliss doesn’t have to be fancy or grand. It can just be…” She gestures around the table, to me, the pancakes, the kittens running around aimlessly. “…A lot like this.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. Because this…the cluttered table, the kittens, her hair slipping loose from that bun…is exactly the vibe I wanted tonight.
She catches me watching. “What?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, a half smile tugging at my mouth. “It’s just…I didn’t think kittens and pancakes would end up being the highlight of my summer.”
“The only highlight?” Her brows lift.
“Well…” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “That is how this all began.”
Her lips curve, slow and knowing, and my pulse kicks up, a too-familiar jolt that reminds me she’s the only place I have no defenses. “Maybe we should eat the rest of our breakfast-for-dinner in bed.”
Smart and beautiful. “Agreed. The kittens can fend for themselves for a few hours.”
Cami rises from her chair, the hem of her shirt catching the light as it skims the tops of her thighs. I stand, too, trailing my Bubble Girl upstairs toward the bedroom, plates in hand but appetite entirely misplaced.
“You think we’ll make it through dinner?” My fingers graze her lower back as she climbs the stairs.
With each step, the shirt lifts a little higher, revealing flashes of smooth skin, the perfect curve of her beautiful bare ass, enough to make my pulse stutter, heat flood my veins, and my cock twitch.
She glances over her shoulder, that wicked half smile curving her lips. “Not a chance.”
We’re still catching our breaths when her lips find the edge of my jaw.
“Where will you stay while the penthouse is up for sale?”
I trail my hand down her spine. “Leasing something simpler.”
“With room for kittens?” she teases, brushing her mouth, her tongue, along my throat.
“With room for all of you, with room for hope,” I quip, “for whatever the hell we become.”
She lifts her head, eyes searching mine, something tender flickering in their depths. “And you’re really okay with…waiting for me to call?”
I cup her face, brushing my thumb along her cheekbone. “I meant what I said, Bubble Girl. You get to decide when this leaves the bubble and crosses into real life. I’ll wait forever if that’s how long it takes to be yours.”
Her lashes dip, and for a second, I think she might cry. But then her lips curve in that way that always ruins me, like she knows exactly what she’s about to do.
She shifts, sliding one leg over my hips until she’s straddling me, bare and beautiful and entirely in control.
“I don’t want to think about tomorrow,” she whispers, fingertips trailing down my chest. “Not yet.”
I grip her thighs, cock already hard again beneath her. “Then don’t.”
She leans down, mouth brushing mine, already in control. “Hush and let me ride you.”
I don’t argue.
I just lie back and surrender to the slow burn of her.
Cami shifts her hips, sliding down until her heat grazes the thick length of me. My hands find her waist, my grip tightening as she takes me in, inch by torturous inch, her wet pussy swallowing my cock whole, slow and sure, like she’s claiming me.
She exhales as if it’s a relief. Like we’ve been building to her riding me all damn day.
My head tips back against the pillow, a growl scraping from my throat as she rolls her hips, delicious and deep. “Fuck,” I mutter. “You feel like heaven.”
Nails rake up my chest, claiming my shoulders.
Hair tumbles around her face, lips parted, her breath catching each time she sinks down.
Eyes locked on mine, she’s watching, absorbing, as if committing all to memory. Every groan. Every grind. Every hard inch of how much I want her.
And God, I’ll always want her.
She leans in, hips working in that slow, devastating rhythm, her mouth brushing mine.
A ragged whimper slips free. “Knox…I-I’m gonna come—hard.”
I slide my hands to her ass, guiding her deeper, holding her like I’m afraid she’ll vanish before the sun comes up. “Let go, baby,” I whisper, thumb circling her clit. “I’ve got you.”
She rides me harder, perfect, round tits bouncing, breath turning ragged, chasing her release like she’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping away.
And when she comes, head thrown back, thighs shaking, every part of her unraveling above me, it’s the most goddamn beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Seconds after, I come undone, my hips lifting as I spill into her, lost in the slick heat, the breathy gasp she makes as I grip her hips and hold her there. Cami, a broken sound on my lips.
She collapses onto me, breath hitching, damp skin sticking to mine. Her cheek presses to my chest, right over my heart, where it’s pounding out a frantic rhythm she probably feels, too.
Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her to me like I never want to let go.
Because I don’t.
Not now.
Not tomorrow.
Not when she gets on that plane.
For a while, we just breathe, our hearts kicking against each other in the quiet.
Then I feel a tremor against my ribs, wet warmth on my chest.
I pull back to see her face.
“Cami…” I breathe out. “Hey.”
She shakes her head, brushing at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”
I tip her chin until her gaze meets mine. “Talk to me.”
“I’m scared.” Her lip trembles. “Of leaving. Of wanting you this much.”
“Baby…”
“I don’t want to lose this,” she admits, the confession snagging on a breath. “But I don’t know if I can carry it into real life without breaking something.”
“Then don’t carry it.” I press a kiss to her temple, breathe her in. “Just hold it. There’s no pressure.”
Tears dot her lashes, but a smile pushes through, weak, wobbly, and so fucking gorgeous. “This was never just a fling for me.”
“Me neither.” I mean it in a thousand ways I don’t know how to say. In every heartbeat. In every breath this perfect-for-me woman steals without trying.
As if afraid to let go, Cami curls into me tighter, fingers featherlight against my chest. “I…I lo—”
Her words splinter, and I don’t push.
Instead, I kiss the side of her head and let her hide in the space between what she almost said and what she’s not ready to.
Holding her, I brush my thumb along her spine until her breath evens out again.
Enveloping us in the one thing we’ll always have.
This summer.
Morning lands with a jolt, like the drop at the end of a roller coaster.
We barely slept, alternating between fucking and making love until our bodies gave out and the sky began to lighten.
She’s upstairs now, double-checking to make sure that she hasn’t forgotten anything. I’m in the kitchen, pouring decaf she won’t be able to finish into a travel mug. Time is cruel, and her flight leaves soon.
Shadow and Stripe are curled in their hammock, paws tangled like they haven’t learned what goodbye means. God, I wish I hadn’t.
Cami’s footsteps pad softly down the stairs.
“Ready?” she asks, the crack beneath the word betraying her as she steps into the kitchen, purse slung over one shoulder. Her hair’s slightly wet from the world’s longest shower together, and though she tries to sound casual, I hear the tremor beneath her words.
She crouches beside the kittens, brushing her fingers over their tiny heads, and swallows hard.
“God, this is harder than I thought.” She exhales. “You two be good for Daddy, okay?”
“They’ll miss you.” I hand her the coffee. “But don’t worry. Stripe already planned a full day of pouncing on my toes and breaking things.”
Her laugh cracks halfway through, fingers toying with the cup lid, eyes flicking toward the door. “Let’s go before this gets any harder.”
Our drive is quiet in a way that’s full of unspoken things.
With one hand on the steering wheel, my other rests between us on the console, close enough to touch, far enough to keep it together.
When I pull to a stop outside Hartford’s Terminal B, Cami turns toward me, lips parted like she’s rehearsed this a dozen times and still doesn’t know how to start.
“I’ll text or call as soon as I’m settled. Promise.” She reaches for her purse. “The bubble phone’s charged.”
I nod. “Good. I left you a voicemail last night. Just so you’d have one to savor.”
Her smile wobbles. “What does it say?”
“Something about powdered sugar and kittens.” I clear my throat. “And that I—”
I stop myself. Because she might still not be ready to say it back, and I’d never take that moment from her.
“Just press play when you have a free moment to yourself.”
I get out, pop the trunk, and lift her bags onto the curb.
Cami joins me, blinking fast. “My dad’s picking me up. Taking me to lunch, then the apartment. So it might be crickets for a bit.”
“That’s good.” I close the trunk. “You haven’t seen him in months. Enjoy your time together.”
She nods, fingers trembling slightly on the handle of her bag. “You sure this isn’t just something sweet you’re saying to make me feel better?”
“No.” I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “This is me telling the truth. Like I always do with you.”
Her breath shudders. “I wish we had more time.”
“Don’t worry.” The reassurance slips out steadier than the ache in my chest. “This isn’t the end. It’s just a layover.”
Cami laughs, then chokes on a sound that might be a sob. She presses her face to my chest and lets me hold her, arms looped around my waist like she’s afraid I’ll disappear the second she lets go.
When she finally tilts her face up, her eyes shine.
I lean in and brush my lips over hers. “Don’t be a stranger, my beautiful Bubble Girl.”
We kiss softly, then deep and desperate—a kiss that steals the air right out of my lungs. Her tears taste like salt and summer, and I kiss her until the world falls away, until there’s nothing left but us and the echo of what we both feel.
Breath shaky, she pulls back, eyes shimmering. “Don’t forget to feed the delinquents.”
“Never.”
She steps away, lifts her hand in a small wave, and walks toward the terminal, toward security lines, gate numbers, and a real-life version that isn’t us.
The doors close behind her, and the quiet that follows makes my chest cave in.
For beats unmeasured, I stand here, staring through the glass, watching her disappear past security until the crowd swallows her whole.
She’ll text me.
All the air feels heavier without her in it.
Every breath tastes like goodbye. My hands ache to reach for her one more time.
To pull her back and say don’t go. But that was never our deal.
I tell myself this is what love is—letting her go.
Only, it doesn’t feel noble. It feels like my heart is breaking in slow motion.
And I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.