Page 28

As the room empties, I turn around, still wearing the skull mask, and I watch as his face changes. His eyes widen and he takes a deep breath. His body goes stiff, clearly freaked out. It’s okay, Cam. It’s just me.

I walk backward slowly. Allowing him to move forward but watching him, tracking him, slowing his forward movement.

Cameron looks past me, searching for his friends, but he doesn’t see them. They’ve already moved into the next room, and I’ve managed to slow him down enough that the crowd is gone. He’s alone with me now. He looks panicked. His eyes dart around the room looking for an exit.

He bites his lip and narrows his eyes, trying to see ahead through the darkness and the mist. Fuck, that lip bite. I want to bite that lip. I want to suck it into my mouth.

We move into a new space with blue lighting and mist swirling around our feet. A distorted version of The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” plays loudly. The music has been slowed and warped until it sounds almost unrecognizable. How fucking appropriate. And then the screens turn on. Both sides of the hallway light up with camera feeds. I see myself on one screen, the skull mask, the black mesh eyes, the dark clothes. And on the other screen, I see Cameron. We’re both there, being watched.

The door behind us closes with a heavy thump. The exit ahead closes. The scare in this room is clearly meant to be claustrophobia and the fear of being observed and trapped.

Cameron raises his palms as I get closer to him, his breathing becoming more rapid and uneven. His back hits the wall. I place a hand on the wall beside his head, caging him in, and I plunge my thigh between his legs. The contact makes my cock throb. Cameron gasps and pushes me away.

“Get off, fucker.”

I laugh. It sounds muffled and dangerous from behind the plastic of the mask. I’m bigger than him, stronger. He can push all he wants, but he’s not going anywhere.

I lean in and sniff his neck through the black mesh, breathing in the scent of his sweat. My eyes roll back at the smell and closeness of him. His skin smells sweet, with a faint hint of cologne or deodorant.

He smells so fucking good.

Cameron is wiggling to get away, his body thrashing against mine. The friction obliterates my senses. I seal myself against him to catch every intoxicating movement. I grab both his wrists, pinning them against the wall.

“Fighting makes it better, Cam,” I growl.

I watch as his eyes go wide at hearing his own name.

“You look so fucking hot when you fight,” I add, pressing my hips harder against his, letting him feel exactly how turned on I am. His body goes completely still. He stops struggling and looks into the mesh eyes of the skull mask. His breathing is rapid and his eyes move frantically between the two eye holes, trying to see who’s behind the mask.

He knows?

He has to know.

His eyes are begging me. They flood with a darkness that makes them gleam, the way moonlight reflects on dark water. He’s not begging to be let go. He’s begging for me to touch him.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful like this.

I release one of his wrists and move my hand behind his neck, cuffing him. I run my thumb along his hairline. I’ve wanted to touch those soft curly hairs at the nape of his neck for so fucking long.

Cameron’s mouth parts and his eyes, still gleaming, grow heavy.

Are his hips pushing back against my thigh, seeking friction?

Yes.

Fuck yes.

Cameron’s free hand comes up to my chest and presses, but it’s an exploratory touch more than a defensive move. His fingers spread across my chest, feeling the muscle there.

He’s touching me.

Cameron Rhodes is touching me.

My knees go weak. This is everything I’ve been wanting. Cameron opening to me. Yielding to me. Now I can show him how good I can make him feel. He’s yielding so quickly that he must know who I am.

Cameron hasn’t forgotten the feel of my body against him after the years of playing rough sports at St. Silas. He hasn’t forgotten the way I move, the way I smell, and the way my body fits against his.

The idea that I’m cataloged in any part of Cameron’s memory is pure validation that I exist for a purpose. I keep the pressure of my thigh between his legs and my hips sealed against his.