Page 45 of Second Quarter Comeback
His hands slide lower, gripping me with bruising intensity as his thrusts grow relentless, each one claiming me more completely than the last. The world narrows to just us—his body overpowering mine, his ragged voice coaxing me closer to the edge with everyword. And I give in, at least for now. Later, I’ll think about what this means. But right now?—
“Stay with me, Cam,” he growls, his voice sharp and commanding. His hand cups my jaw, forcing my gaze to his. “Look at me. Don’t you dare close those beautiful eyes.”
I’m barely holding on, every nerve ending firing at once, but he doesn’t let up. His other hand grips my hip, pulling me harder against him. “Now grab my shoulder,” he orders, his breath hot and uneven against my lips. “One hand there, but the other . . .” His voice dips, his words dripping with dominance. “Touch yourself for me. I want to feel you fall apart while I’m buried inside you.”
My hand trembles as I slide it between us, my fingers brushing against where we’re joined, sending a jolt through my already overwrought body. “That’s it,” he groans, his pace quickening, thrusting deeper, harder. “Let me see you lose it. Let me feel you tighten around me while I fill you up.”
My moans grow louder, his words pushing me closer to the brink. His voice is rough, dark, filled with raw hunger. “You’re mine, Cam. Every inch of you. And I’m not stopping until I’ve given you everything—until you’re screaming my name and dripping with me.”
The pressure builds unbearably, and I shatter, my body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash over me. His movements grow erratic, his grip unrelenting.With a guttural moan, he stills, his body pressed flush against mine as I feel the warmth of him spilling into me, marking me in a way words never could.
“Perfect,” he rasps, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged. “You’re so damn perfect, Cam. And now you’re mine. Completely.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Killion
How to Apologize Without Words
What the fuck did I just do?
“Cam,” I say, my breath coming in shallow bursts as I try to steady myself. “I’m . . . I didn’t mean to come inside you without a condom. I mean, we’ve done it like this before, but Ishouldn’t have assumed. I can send you my last physical—no STIs—and I . . . you’re the only person I’ve ever been with without one.”
Her gaze meets mine, her expression unreadable but filled with a mixture of emotions that tears at my chest. “This . . . it’s not the lack of a condom,” she says softly, her voice trembling. “But none of this should’ve happened. We haven’t even discussed what happened. I?—”
“Let me take care of you,” I interrupt, desperate to salvage what I can, “and then we can talk. About everything. About how I, again, fucked up because I let myself get carried away.”
I pull out of her slowly, the intimacy of the moment hitting me harder than I expect. She winces slightly, and guilt punches me square in the gut. I fix myself quickly, tugging my gym shorts back up, before reaching for her.
“Here,” I say gently, kneeling in front of her. My hands slide to her leggings, still bunched around her thighs, and I carefully ease them down her legs. I can feel her watching me, her silence heavier than any words she could speak. “I’ve got you,” I murmur, more to myself than to her, trying to believe it.
Once her leggings are off, I scoop her up, lifting her in my arms bridal-style. She stiffens slightly but doesn’t pull away, and I take that as permission to keep going. Her head rests against my chest, and I carry her down the hall toward her bedroom.
In her room, I lay her gently on the bed, brushingstray strands of hair from her face. She looks up at me, her eyes still guarded, but there’s a vulnerability there that makes me want to fall to my knees and beg for another chance.
“Stay here,” I say softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face before heading to the bathroom. I grab a warm washcloth, moving with purpose but not rushing. When I return, I sit beside her, the bed dipping under my weight.
“Let me take care of you,” I murmur, my voice quiet but firm.
I start cleaning her, slow and careful, every movement deliberate. I trail the warm cloth along her skin, my hands gentle, reverent, as though she might shatter if I move too quickly. “You’re so beautiful, Cam,” I say softly, my gaze flicking to hers. “Inside and out. I don’t know how I got so lucky to even be here right now.”
She doesn’t speak, just watches me with those eyes that see straight through every layer of bullshit I’ve ever built. Her silence doesn’t feel angry, but it still concerns me. I keep going, using this moment to show her how much I worship her.
When I’m done, I set the cloth aside and pull the blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders with care. She’s everything—so much more than I ever deserved—and I need her to feel that. “You’re incredible,” I say quietly, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Strong. Smart. And so fucking kind, even when I don’t deserve it.”
Her lips part, but she says nothing, and I lean closer, resting my forehead against hers for a moment. “I’m sorry, Cam. For all of it. For not giving you the respect you deserve. For letting my own selfishness get in the way. But I promise you—whatever you need from me, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to make this right.”
I don’t pull away, not yet. My lips brush her temple, soft and lingering, as if trying to press every unspoken promise into her skin. “You mean everything to me, Cam,” I whisper, my voice raw.
She exhales, her hand trailing along the blanket. “It’s okay. I was caught up in the moment too. I didn’t think about protection or . . . anything. And it’s you. We stopped using condoms back then because I was on the pill.”
Her voice falters, and before she can spiral into explanations, I cut in, tension tightening my chest. “Are you not . . .?” My heart stumbles as I force the question out. “Fuck, should we get a Plan B?”
She shakes her head, reaching for her arm, her fingers brushing against it. “Instead of the pill, I have an implant.”
Relief washes over me, but before I can say anything, she tugs her top over her head and tosses it aside, her bare skin glowing in the dim light. I watch, transfixed, as she turns toward the bathroom. My pulse kicks up as she twists the shower knob, steam beginning to curl around her like a veil.
Her voice pulls me back. “The problem isn’t just thephysical, Killion. We’re not in a place where we can just have sex like we’re together again. There’s too much between us.”
