He paused in the hallway, staring at the room number. For a moment, he considered turning around.
What exactly was he doing here? Seeing Cam again wasn’t going to solve anything.The reasons they had stopped seeing each other still existed.The photographs still existed.TheDaily Mailarticle still existed.Cam was still fighting for a world championship and couldn’t afford a scandal—or distractions.None of that had changed.
And yet here Scott was.The second Cam had texted him, every bit of carefully cultivated distance he’d spent the last month building had collapsed like a house of cards. God, it was so pathetic.Scott had spent weeks telling himself he was doing the right thing by cooling their relationship down, weeksreminding himself that Cam had made his choice. He’dtried so hard to adjust to a world where Cameron Richter wasn’t the first person he could tell things to.
But one text message had shattered everything.
I need to see you.
And suddenly none of his hard-earned self-restraint seemed worth a damn. Cam needed him, and Scott folded like a cheap lounge chair.
Scott laughed quietly under his breath.God.Maybe this was how recovering addicts felt when they were offered their favorite drug.More than a month clean.A month telling himself he was fine without Cam in his life—only to discover that the craving had never actually gone away, that it had been too deep under his skin to truly eradicate.
He stared at the hotel room door.
Just on the other side of it was the man who had occupied an embarrassing percentage of his thoughts for months.The man he’d spent the last month trying—and failing—to get over.
Scott knocked.
The door opened almost immediately, andScott’s breath caught in his throat.
It had only been six weeks since he’d last seen Cam. He shouldn’t feel this starved for the sight of him. His fingers shouldn’t literally tremble with the urge to reach out and trace the line of Cam’s stubbled jaw.
Objectively, Cam looked the same—broad-shouldered, athletic, and mouthwateringly handsome—but there was a tautness about him that hadn’t been there before. Shadowslingered beneath his eyes, and his hair looked very disheveled, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.
And the way he was looking at Scott… It was so fuckingintense, his dark eyes roaming all over Scott’s face, almost…Almost hungry.
Scott swallowed. “Hey,” he said at last.
Cam’s expression shifted minutely.“Hey.”After a brief hesitation, Cam stepped aside to let him enter.
The door clicked shut behind Scott, sealing them inside a silent room.
Trying to regain some composure, Scott looked around,but the suite was spacious and impersonal in the way luxury hotels always were, so his gaze helplessly returned to Cam and locked with his again.
For a moment, they simply stood there, looking at each other.
“So,” Scott said.
Cam huffed a laugh.“So.”
The awkwardness was almost comical, considering how well they kneweach other.
Scott rubbed the back of his neck.“The crash in Brazil was pretty bad. How are you feeling about this race weekend?”
Cam stared at him. “Really? We haven’t seen each other in six weeks, but you’re talking to me like some fucking reporter?”
Six weeks.
So Cam had been counting too.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Scott shrugged. “You have a better idea?”
Cam’s jaw clenched, something like frustration flickering over his face. He took a step forward. “So you did watch my race.”
Scott inhaled shakily, eyeing the shrinking distance between them. “Of course,” he said belatedly. “I’m a fan of the sport. I didn’t start watching it for you, you know.”
Their eyes locked again.
