Page 44 of Second Quarter Comeback
Beside me, Killion clears his throat, shifting like he’s unsure whether to stay or retreat. “Uh . . . permission to cross over?” he asks, motioning to the low railing between our terraces. “I could go back through the door, but this seems easier.”
I lift an eyebrow, half intrigued. “Go for it.”
He doesn’t hesitate, swinging a long leg over the glass divider with practiced ease. When his other footlands on my side, I realize how close he is—close enough to notice the taut set of his jaw, the tension radiating through his shoulders, and the conflict flickering in his eyes.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. His hands slide into his pockets for a moment, but then, as if deciding against keeping any distance between us, he steps forward. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers tilt my chin up, his touch warm and steady.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough around the edges. “For listening to them. For walking away. For being a goddamn idiot who thought leaving you was some kind of noble sacrifice.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the intensity in his gaze stops me. His thumb brushes against my jaw, sending a shiver through me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
“I thought I was protecting you,” he continues, his tone softer now. “Your parents convinced me I’d ruin your future if I stayed. That you deserved better than some guy who spent his days running into people for a living. And I believed them because . . . because my father told me something almost similar. But also, I loved you too much to risk being the reason you didn’t get everything you wanted.”
I don’t know what hits harder—the fact that he left because he thought it was best for me, or the realization that he’s still carrying the guilt.
“You were my everything, Cam,” he says, his voicebreaking just slightly. “And I thought walking away was the right thing to do. But I’ve regretted it every single time.”
I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve let me decide what was best for my future.”
“I know,” he whispers, his forehead brushing against mine. His breath mingles with mine, warm and hesitant, as though he’s treading on fragile ground. “But I can’t go back. I can only fight for you. For us. Now. All I can do is tell you the truth and hope you’ll let me prove I’m not that guy anymore.”
His words hang between us, raw and unpolished, trembling with a hope that feels too fragile to touch. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he begins to close the space separating us. My heart thrums, erratic and loud, drowning out the warning in my mind to keep my distance.
“Killion,” I murmur, my voice softer than I mean for it to be, betraying the cracks in my defenses. “You can’t just show up, say all the right things, and expect me to forget what happened.”
But even as the words leave my lips, his graze against mine—light, tentative, a whisper of a kiss, as if he’s asking permission with every heartbeat. And when I don’t pull away, he presses closer, his kiss unraveling more emotions between us, drawing me into something fragile, something undeniable, something that’s been here all along.
“I don’t want you to forget,” he says, his gaze locked on mine, unflinching and unrelenting. “I want to show you that I’m still here. That I’ll keep showing up until you tell me not to.”
My chest tightens, my voice barely holding steady. “But I don’t know if I can allow this,” I whisper, the words thick with doubt. “We’re not who we used to be.”
Before I can say more, his lips crash against mine, cutting through my hesitation like a blade. This kiss isn’t soft or careful—it’s raw, demanding, driven by a hunger that ignites every nerve in my body and obliterates the space between us. His hands grip my waist, his fingers pressing firmly, almost possessively, as though afraid I might vanish. Then I feel it—his body closing the distance, his strength guiding me backward until the cool glass wall presses against my spine.
The tension vibrates between us, his desperation spilling into every kiss, every touch. His lips part mine, his breath ragged, his hands sliding down to grip my hips and pull me closer, leaving no room for doubt about what he feels. The glass against my back is cool, a contrast to the heat radiating from him as he presses harder, his body a force that pins me in place.
“Killion,” I gasp between kisses, but he doesn’t stop, his mouth finding my neck, the hollow of my throat, like he’s searching for something he’s terrified of losing.
His voice is low, hoarse, almost broken. “I can’tstop,” he murmurs against my skin. “Not when I’m this close to losing you again.”
The air between us sizzles, heavy with tension as his hands slide from my hips, trembling slightly as though he’s giving me one last chance to step away. But I don’t. I can’t.
His lips crash against mine again, fiercer this time, his fingers moving to the waistband of my leggings. He pauses, just for a breath, his forehead pressing against mine as he murmurs, “Stop me now.”
I should. I know I should. But instead of pulling away, I arch into him, my hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles beneath my fingertips. My silence is the answer he needs. With a growl of need, he pushes my leggings down, his fingers brushing my skin in a way that sends a shiver through me.
His own movements are swift but controlled as he pushes his gym shorts down, his breaths mingling with mine, wild and unrestrained. I grasp his shoulders, urging him closer, my nails digging into his skin as I let go of any lingering doubt.
“Killion,” I whisper, not in protest but in encouragement, my voice trembling with everything I’m feeling. And in the next moment, he presses into me, every hesitation replaced with a raw, unspoken need as the glass at my back cools my overheated skin.
His hands grip my thighs, lifting me as he thrusts forward, his body pressing mine firmly against the glass. The air catches in my throat as he fills mecompletely, the sensation overwhelming and consuming all at once. A deep, guttural sigh escapes him, his lips brushing my ear. “I’m finally home,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion and desire.
The words hit me as hard as the way he moves—fast, powerful, like he’s been holding back for far too long. Each thrust sends shockwaves through me, my body arching against his, craving every inch of him. My nails dig into his shoulders, and I can’t stop the desperate plea that escapes my lips. “Yes . . . please. Don’t stop.”
“You like this, don’t you?” he growls, his breath hot against my neck as his hands tighten their grip. “You want me to take you, make you mine, right here where there’s no escape.”
I gasp, my head tipping back, the words sparking something electric deep inside me. “Yes,” I breathe, barely able to form the word, but it’s all the permission he needs.
His rhythm quickens, each thrust hitting harder, deeper, pulling cries from me I can’t suppress. “That’s it,” he groans, his voice low and rough. “Take all of me. Let them hear how much you want this.”
