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“It’s okay, Lucien. I know why you did it.”

I pull the palm of his hand to the center of my chest. I want him so badly that nothing before tonight matters anymore.

22

LUCIEN

Cameron’s body is pressed against mine, my arm draped over his side. For a moment I just lie here, breathing him in. His back rises and falls with each breath, and I feel the warmth of his skin against my chest.

I don’t want to move. I want to stay here forever, holding him, knowing he’s mine now. It actually happened. I have him, his mouth, his hands, his trust. He’s forgiven me.

I press a kiss to the back of his neck, and he stirs.

“Cam,” I murmur against his skin.

He makes a humming sound, half-asleep.

“I have to go.”

He tenses immediately, and I feel him wake up fully. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

His voice is carefully neutral, but I can hear the disappointment underneath it. I smile against his shoulder. He doesn’t want me to leave. Good.

“I really do have that math test,” I say, sitting up. “I need to study.”

“No, yeah, totally.” He shifts away from me, tucking himself under the bedspread like he’s suddenly self-conscious. “You should go.”

I stand and stretch, deliberately taking my time. I feel his eyes on my naked body, and I make no move to cover myself. I want him to see me. I want him to remember every line of my body, every muscle, every inch of skin so he can save this image for later, when he’s alone.

I glance over my shoulder and catch him staring. His eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted, and there’s a flush creeping up his neck. Perfect.

I grab my boxer briefs from the floor and take my time pulling them on. I do the same with my jeans. I find my shirt and sweater and tug them over my head. When I’m dressed, I stand over him at the side of the bed. He’s still tucked under the covers, his hair messy, his eyes shy but trying so hard to play it cool. God, he’s adorable.

“I’ll let myself out,” I say. “But lock the door after I leave, okay?”

He nods.

“I’ll text you.”

Another nod.

I lean down, hovering over him, and wait.

He hesitates for just a second, then tilts his chin up to meet me, and we kiss.

There’s no desperate urgency this time, only a smooth, lingering promise.

When I pull back, I brush my fingers along his cheek.

“Goodnight, baby.”

He doesn’t fight it this time. He doesn’t break away or tell me not to call him that.

He just looks at me with those big, vulnerable eyes and says, “Night.”

It takes everything in me to leave him, but I have to measure the attention I give him so he feels comfortable. If he knew tonight the depth of what he means to me, he might run. It would be too much. So, I leave before I can change my mind and crawl back into his bed.

The next day, I’m walking out of my math class when I pull out my phone and text Cameron.