31. Aggressive Romantic Poetry #3
"Wasn't trying to be." I kissed the tip of her nose. "I want you, Cam. And I know the difference, full stop. Let me worry about the rest of it. What they say, what they call me. I've been called worse by better. I can take a little heat for being yours."
She stared at me, searching my face like she didn't believe it could be that easy.
"You're sure?" she whispered, and she looked so vulnerable it hurt to look at. "Because if you ever shut me out again—"
I cut her off, hands sliding into her hair. "I won't. I promise."
She laughed, a messy, wet sound. "You can't promise that. Life's not—"
"So?" I said again, and let the silence stretch. Let her feel the weight of it.
Cam blinked, confused. "So what?"
"So life's messy. So people talk. So the blogs are gonna run wild with theories and timelines." I brushed my thumb across her cheekbone. "I don't give a fuck about most things, Cam. But losing you? That I give several fucks about. Maybe too many fucks, honestly. It's embarrassing."
Her breath caught, but I saw her fighting a smile.
"I've cut people off for less, you're right," I continued, keeping my voice steady though my pulse was hammering. "Blocked them, erased them, moved on without a second thought. You know why I can't do that with you?"
She shook her head, eyes wide.
"You're stubborn and you're beautiful. You call me out on my shit.
You got me out here doing freaky shit in hallways.
You get under my skin in a way nobody else has, and I'm sick of fighting what I want.
" I leaned my forehead against hers, ran my fingers through her hair until her eyes closed and she held me tighter.
"So whatever happens with the press, the teams, the noise—we deal with it.
Because the alternative is going back to not having you, and I'm not interested in that anymore. "
The silence got too honest, so I reached for something lighter. "Plus you literally had me out here wanting to swing on Skye because she touched your leg."
Cam blinked up at me, barely holding back a laugh, and I saw the second she got it.
"You was about to windmill over me, huh? You mean that?" Her voice was so soft it almost broke me.
"More than I should," I replied.
She pulled me down into a kiss that felt like an answer. "How are we going to handle it?" she asked, voice muffled by my shirt.
"First thing," I said, "is we eat the ice cream in your freezer before someone leaks that to MikkiLeaks, too."
She snorted. "Not what I meant."
I shrugged, squeezing her tighter. "I'll talk to my people.
Tell them to kill the questions about who I'm seeing.
" I made myself slow down, because this was the part that mattered.
"But I need you to hear the rest of it. I'm not hiding you.
I'm just—I haven't said it out loud yet.
And when I do, I need it to be because I was ready, not because some blog forced my hand. "
Cam went still under me. "How long is a while?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But you'll be the first to know it's coming. Not the blogs, not Z, not Mommy. You. That's the part I can promise."
She studied my face for a long beat, looking for the catch.
"That's not a secret. I'm not hiding you." I said. "That's me asking you to wait while I figure out how to speak my truth in front of the whole world. There's a difference."
Cam laughed, soft, the tension finally breaking. "There is. Okay." Then, with a crooked grin: "Just so we're clear though—I'm not trying to be the Queen's consort."
I kissed her, letting my hands roam the length of her back. "You can be whatever you want. But tonight, you're mine. Consider this my tip."
A shiver ran through her. "Promise?"
I kissed her again, this time with teeth. "Promise."
We stayed like that a minute, holding each other, the world drifting out. My knees hurt from the angle, but I didn't care.
Eventually, Cam said, "You know, this is the part where people usually have sex."
I raised a brow. "Is that what people do?"
She rolled her eyes, but the smile was already spreading. "Don't pretend you're above it."
I grinned. "Never said I was above it."
Her hands found my hips, thumbs stroking the strip of skin where my shirt had ridden up. My pulse jacked up, sudden and hot.
Cam inhaled, sharp. "Good," she said, and then she was kissing me.
I lost track of time after that. My shirt was gone first, tossed somewhere on the coffee table. Cam's hands were on my waist, then my ribs, then tangled in my chain. I tugged her shirt over her head and bit down on her nipple, then lapped at the spot.
She gasped, arched into me, her hands fumbling at my bra with all the grace of a drunk octopus. I giggled into her neck, then unclasped it myself and let it drop until my breasts were free.
She stared, eyes wide. "I will never get tired of seeing that," she whispered.
"Let's see your bedroom." I said. "This time you owe me the full Cribs tour."
"What's Cr—you know what, nevermind."
I have never, in all my life, seen anyone move that fast.