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“She won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He leans down and kisses me. “She’s going to love you. Because I…” He stops, his eyes widening slightly like he’s surprised himself.

My heart stops. “Because you what?”

He swallows hard. “Because I love you.”

“Say it again,” I whisper.

“I love you.” His voice is stronger now, more certain. “I love you, Lucien. And I want you to come home with me for Christmas. I want you to meet my mom. I want…” His voice cracks. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

I need him. I’ve always needed him.

“Okay,” I say, and my voice is rough with emotion.

“Okay?”

“I want to be with you, Cam.”

He makes a sound of relief against my lips and kisses me with everything he has. When we break apart, he’s smiling.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“For saying yes.” He waves his hand between us.

I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him close again, pressing my forehead against his. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. For not giving up on me. For coming back to me.” My voice breaks.

“I’ll never give up on you,” he says simply.

And I believe him.

We lie there for a long time, wrapped around each other, not talking. Just being. The weight of what just happened, the confession, the invitation, the acceptance, settles over us like a blanket.

Finally Cameron asks quietly, “Can I see it?”

I know what he wants. I knew he would ask. I sit up slightly. Cameron’s gaze simmers as it travels over my chest, then down to my thigh.

“Go ahead,” I murmur.

He shifts, moving down my body until he’s hovering over my leg. His fingers find the waistband of my sleep pants, hesitating.

He pulls them down slowly, carefully, until the tattoo is fully visible. The Clan Cameron arrows. The three words in Gaelic beneath it.

His fingers trace the lines of the design, featherlight against my skin. The touch sends electricity through me. It’s been days since he’s touched me. My cock twitches at the intimacy of it, at the way his cold fingers adjust my leg so he can see better. I lie back against the pillow, trying to keep my breathing steady as his fingers continue their exploration.

“When did you get this? You had it the first time we…?” he asks, his voice bright with wonder.

I think back. “Last spring.”

“Hmm. So freshman year?”

“Yeah.”

His hand stills on my thigh. “How did you know?”