"I missed you," Lou breathed against her lips. "Every day. Every hour. I kept reaching for my phone to text you and then remembering?—"
"I know." Camille's hands slid into Lou's hair, tangling in the unwashed strands, pulling her closer. "I know. But I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."
They stumbled together toward the hallway, Lou's hands finding Camille's hips, Camille's crutches abandoned somewhere by the front door. Her knee protested the movement but she barely noticed—there was no room for pain, not when Lou was kissing her neck, her jaw, the sensitive spot behind her ear that made Camille's knees weak.
Lou's bedroom was small and simple—a queen bed with rumpled sheets, a dresser covered in team photos and championship memorabilia, curtains that blocked out most of the daylight. The room smelled like Lou, that particular combination of laundry soap and exertion that Camille had come to associate with safety, with home.
"Your knee—" Lou started, pulling back slightly.
"Is fine." Camille pushed Lou gently toward the bed, watching her sit on the edge, watching the way the dim light caught the planes of her face. "Stop worrying about my knee and start worrying about getting out of those clothes."
Lou's laugh was startled and genuine—the first real laugh Camille had heard from her in weeks. "Bossy."
"You love it."
"I love you." The words came out soft, almost wonder-struck, as if Lou was hearing them for the first time. "Ishould have said that before. Should have said it every day instead of running away."
Camille lowered herself onto the bed beside Lou, careful of her injured leg but refusing to let it slow her down. "Say it now. Say it as many times as you want. We have time."
Lou's hands found the hem of Camille's shirt, her fingers cool against Camille's heated skin. "I love you. I've loved you since you walked into that locker room and acted like you owned the place."
The shirt came off, and then Lou's mouth was on Camille's collarbone, her shoulder, the swell of her breast above the lace of her bra. Each kiss was slow and deliberate—not the desperate urgency of their previous encounters, but something more careful. More intentional.
"I love your confidence," Lou murmured against Camille's skin. "The way you demand what you want without apology."
She unclasped Camille's bra and let it fall away, her mouth finding one nipple while her thumb traced circles around the other. Camille arched into the touch, her breath catching, heat pooling low in her belly.
"I love your body." Lou's tongue traced a path down Camille's sternum, pausing to press a kiss to her ribs. "The way you move on the ice. The way you move everywhere."
Camille's fingers fumbled with Lou's shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. "You're wearing too many clothes."
Lou pulled back long enough to strip off her shirt and sports bra in one fluid motion. Her body was as familiar as Camille's own now—the lean muscle, the scars from years of play, the particular way her breasts fit against Camille's palms when she reached for them.
"Better?" Lou asked, a hint of that old confidence returning to her voice.
"Getting there."
They shed the rest of their clothes in a tangle of limbs and laughter, their movements clumsy with emotion and need. When they finally lay naked together, the sheets cool against their heated skin, Camille took a moment just to look—to trace the lines of Lou's body with her eyes, to memorize every curve and angle.
"You're beautiful," she whispered.
Lou's cheeks flushed, that particular pink that Camille had learned meant she was affected. "You're the beautiful one. Golden and perfect and?—"
"Yours." Camille pulled Lou down on top of her, gasping at the full-body contact, at the way their legs tangled together. "I'm yours, Lou. If you want me."
"I want you." Lou's voice cracked on the words. "I want everything. All of it. All of you."
She kissed Camille again, deeper this time, her tongue sliding against Camille's in a rhythm that promised more. Her hand traced down Camille's side, over the curve of her hip, coming to rest on her inner thigh. The proximity made Camille's hips move upward, seeking contact, seeking release.
"Please," Camille breathed against Lou's mouth. "Touch me."
Lou's fingers slid through the wetness gathered between Camille's thighs, and they both groaned at the contact—Camille at the relief of finally being touched, Lou at the evidence of how much Camille wanted her.
"Like this?" Lou's thumb found Camille's clit, circling slowly, building pressure without giving enough.
"More. I need?—"
Two fingers slipped inside, and Camille's head fell back against the pillow. Lou's hand moved in a steady rhythm,her thumb maintaining pressure on Camille's clit while her fingers curled to find that spot that made Camille see stars.
