Page 156 of Off the Grid

Camilla

“I told him.”

“What?” Riggs stares at me with disbelief in his eyes as he stands in my doorway mid knock.

I may have been stalking him and waiting for him to get home. But when I heard his footsteps clomping down the hall and threw my door open, he was standing there, fist raised to knock.

And now standing there with shock on his face.

“I mean, I told him. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t make you take the fall. I couldn’t let you walk away from a dream you’ve worked so hard for, that you’d achieved because I was too chickenshit to face fear over—”

His lips are on mine in an instant. Hands in my hair, body pressed against mine, his lips unrelenting with hunger.

A kiss that wars are fought for and conquers all.

And when he ends it, when our bodies are on fire and our lips numb, he leans back, hands on my cheeks and knees bent so we’re eye to eye.

“Let’s stop playing this game, Gasket.”

“What game?”

“The no-strings one. I’m in love with you. Can’t you see that? Baggy clothes. No clothes. A Mount Everest of clothes, I don’t fucking care. You’re it for me, Camilla. The kind of it I never expected, I never wanted. I thought love was for weak men and saps. I’ll be the first to admit I was wrong. Hands down. Head over heels wrong. You drive me crazy but fuck if that madness doesn’t make me love you more. You challenge me. You make me the kind of man who would give up his dream because it’s the right thing to do. And that’s fucking saying a lot. Because I would. I did. And I’d do it a million times over if that’s what you needed, because I’m in fucking love with you.”

I stare at him as my heart swells so much it hurts. Tears well and speech escapes me.

Love isn’t supposed to hurt.

Isn’t he the one who taught me that?

It’s supposed to heal. It’s supposed to fulfill. It’s supposed to make you whole.

“It’s the nickname, isn’t it, Gasket?” he asks. “You hate it so much that you can’t love me back.”

I cough over my sob and wipe away the tears on my cheeks. “No. It’s perfect. Just like you are.”

The tension in my chest eases for the first time, and the ache is filled by a love so poignant it’s almost hard to believe.

But isn’t it funny how when you start believing, that you realize it’s actually real. That you know it can be real.

“We’re a fucked-up pair, but my broken makes you whole. Your broken has made me whole. Now it’s time to let those breaks heal. For the scars to fade like nothing ever was.”

I launch myself at him and kiss him again. I pour myself into it. I can’t get enough of it, of him, of this feeling, of this possibility.

I frame his face with my hands and know that my grin must look as goofy as his does. “When did you know?” I ask.

“Know what?” He plays dumb.

“That you love me.”

“It was my drunk night in your flat. When you thought I had passed out but you came back to peek under the blanket and check out my cock.”

“I did not!” I slap at his chest and he just wraps his hands around my wrists and kisses the inside of my palm.

“No, but you were thinking about it.” He chuckles. “Seriously? I can’t pinpoint one specific event. It’s like one minute you were kissing me in a bar and the next minute you were everywhere. And I liked that you were. You won me over. Heart by colored heart on the calendar.”

“I think I’m going to have to buy a new calendar.”

“A lifetime supply coming right up,” he teases, and I laugh as I brush my lips to his.