The air between us had shifted, charged with something electric and inevitable. I should have pulled my hand back, should have put distance between us, should have remembered that Lex and I needed to talk to her together before anything happened.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I stood, pulling her up with me, and suddenly we were chest to chest, her face tilted up to mine, her breathing quick and shallow.
“Majesty,” she whispered.
“Tell me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
I cradled her face in my hands, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. “We should wait. Should talk first. All three of us.”
“I know.” But she didn’t pull away.
“Cami...” I rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “You’re making this very difficult.”
“Good.” Her hands came up to rest on my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. “You’ve been making it difficult for me all day.”
I laughed despite the want coursing through me. “Fair point.”
We stood there, suspended in the moment, neither of us willing to cross the line but neither of us willing to step back. The tension was delicious and torturous all at once.
The sound of a car in the driveway broke the spell.
We stepped apart, and Cami pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “That’s Lex.”
“Yeah.” I ran a hand over my hair, trying to collect myself.
“We should clean up.”
“Probably.”
But neither of us moved for a long moment, just looking at each other, acknowledging what had almost happened and what was still simmering beneath the surface.
The front door opened, and Lex’s voice called out, “I’m back. Something smells amazing.”
Cami laughed softly, the sound slightly breathless. “Saved by the bell.”
“Or condemned to waiting,” I countered, then raised my voice. “In the kitchen. We made pasta.”
Lex appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene—the wine glasses, the intimate table setting, the way Cami and I were both slightly disheveled and clearly flustered.
His dark eyes moved between us, and a small smile played at the corner of his mouth.
“Looks like you two had a good evening,” he said, his tone warm rather than accusatory.
“We did,” I confirmed, meeting his eyes with a silent communication that had developed over years of partnership. We were okay. This was okay.
He nodded slightly, understanding. Then to Cami, his expression softening, “After dinner, the three of us should talk. Nothing heavy, just to check in. Making sure we’re all on the same page.”
She nodded, and I could see the nervousness creeping back in. “Okay.”
“Good.”
He moved into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he passed, a gesture so natural and caring that it made me smile. This was what it could be. What it should be.
“Save me some of that pasta. I’m starving,” he directed as he turned and left the room.
