Page 35

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

Paigelynn

The morning sunlight peeks through the curtains, warm and soft against my face.

I stretch a little, feeling the gentle pull of my muscles, and smile to myself. My body feels... good. No sharp aches, no tension that refuses to leave.

Just a comfortable hum, like I’m finally settling into my own skin. It’s been a month since we left the compound, and for the first time in years, I feel... whole.

Well, maybe not completely, but close enough.

Cam’s arm is draped over me, heavy and warm. His breath is soft against the back of my neck, steady and rhythmic. He’s still asleep, his body curled around mine, his chest pressed to my back. I can feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the way it matches my own. It’s comforting, grounding.

And then I feel something else.

Oh.

A blush creeps up my neck as I realize what’s poking against me.

Morning wood.

Of course.

I bite my lip, stifling a laugh. He’s completely out, oblivious to the fact that his body is betraying him. I wiggle slightly, just to see if he’ll wake up.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his arm tightens around me, pulling me closer, and his nose nuzzles against my hair. My blush deepens, but this time, it’s not embarrassment.

It’s something warmer.

Something... new.

For weeks, Cam has been nothing but patient with me. He sleeps beside me every night, holding me when I need it, never asking for more than a kiss. He’s careful, always careful, making sure I feel safe. And I do. But now, as I lie here in his arms, something shifts inside me.

I don’t want careful.

Not right now.

I want more.

I roll over slowly, trying not to wake him too abruptly. His face is so peaceful when he’s asleep, the hard edges softened, the lines of worry smoothed out. His hair is messy, sticking up in places, and I can’t help but smile. He looks younger like this, boyish.

“Cam,” I whisper, my hand brushing against his cheek. His stubble is rough under my fingertips, but I like it. “Wake up.”

He stirs, his brows furrowing slightly before his eyes flutter open. It takes him a moment to focus, but when he does, his gaze locks on mine. A slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” I say, my cheeks still warm. His arm tightens around me again, pulling me closer, and I let him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this safe, this...

Wanted.

His eyes narrow slightly as he studies me, his smile fading just a little. “You okay?” he asks, his voice more awake now.

I nod, my hand still resting on his cheek. “I’m better than okay,” I say, my voice soft but steady. “I think I’m ready.”

His brow furrows in confusion for a second, but then his eyes widen, and he pulls back slightly. “Paigelynn,” he says, his voice careful. “Are you sure?”

I nod again, more firmly this time. “I want this,” I say. “I want you.”

He searches my face, his eyes full of emotions I can’t quite name—concern, love, maybe even a little hesitation. “You don’t have to rush anything,” he says gently. “I’m happy just holding you.”

“I know,” I say, my voice breaking a little. “And that’s why I’m ready. Because you’ve been so patient, so kind. Because you make me feel safe.”

His hand cups my face now, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he says. “This is about you, not me.”

“I know,” I whisper. “But this is what I want. I want to take this back. I want to reclaim my body. And I want to do it with you. Not to 'ruin' me for those bastards. Not to spoil their plan. I want this for me.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his hand still on my cheek. “Okay,” he says finally, his voice soft but steady. “But if you change your mind at any point, we stop. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I say, my heart swelling with love for him. I press my forehead to his, my fingers curling into his shirt. “Let’s pretend this is my first time,” I whisper. “The first time that matters.”

His breath catches, and I see his jaw tighten like he’s holding back a flood of emotions. “It will be,” he says, his voice barely audible. “It is.”

I kiss him then, deeply, fully, pouring everything I feel into it. The fear, the hope, the love—it’s all there, all wrapped up in that kiss.

His arms come around me, strong and steady, and for the first time, I don’t feel like a victim.

I don’t feel like a pawn in someone else’s game.

I feel like me.

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You always have been.”

I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. For so long, I didn’t believe I was anything more than what they told me I was—a heart, a tool, a body to be used. Sure, they used words like "princess" and "queen," but those were just fancier ways to spruce up the truth.

In his arms, I feel something different.

I feel loved.

His hands move slowly, reverently, like he’s memorizing every inch of me.

He kisses me again, softer this time, his lips brushing against mine in a way that makes my heart race.

The way his fingertips trace a line down my shoulder makes my skin ripple with need.

He slips the fabric of my top off my shoulder and plants a kiss at the base of my earlobe.

I throb between my legs.

Can you explode from desire?

“Look, Paigelynn,” he says, lips parted, his tongue coming out to brush against his lower lip. He’s looking up and me through his eyelashes, dark eyes so intense, burning for me.

For me.

“Mmm?”

“Are you sure.”

“Absolutely.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I truly want you,” he murmurs as his hand goes under my top, finding the swell of my breast, his hand making me gasp. I didn’t know I could feel so many layers of pleasure. They are like waves, one after the other, building.

“I want you too, Cam.”

“No, sweetheart, I mean I want you. I need you. I fucking crave you. Have since the day we met at that dog obedience class. One look at you and I was done. Gone. Hooked completely.”

“That’s the day you found me.” I kiss him, my mouth needing as much of him as he can give.

Cam breaks the kiss, his hands sliding up my back, one coming around to cup my right breast, thumb turning the nipple hard as I feel my clitoris swell.

“Yes. But it was an accident.”

“You told me it was your job to find me.”

“It was. And I did. But I didn’t mean to. It was pure luck.”

“I feel lucky, Cam.” I reach under his shirt, imitating his moves. His skin is hot, hard with muscle underneath thin skin, and he feels like I’m caressing a marble statue with warm, soft skin. I could touch him forever like this.

“I do, too,” he replies, giving me a deep, slow kiss as he pulls me on top of him.

His cock is hard underneath his pants, pulled straight up, the rod poking against my mons as I rest on him.

The urge to move against, to ride it, it is so strong.

A warm layer covers my skin, like a blanket of love that is just for me and Cam.

Every breath I take inhales his essence into me, and all I want is this.

More of this.

Nothing but this.

“Make me real,” I ask of him. “I don’t want to be a princess.

I don’t want to fulfill a prophecy. I don’t want to close my eyes and see my mantras, or imagine the wrong histories embedded in me.

I don’t want to worry about every calorie or think I’m being hunted.

Erase all the bad that’s been done to me, Cam.

I was taught a fantasy. Be my reality. Show me reality. Fill me with it,” I implore him.

“You have always been real,” he assures me as I reach for his shirt and pull it up over his head, his grin making his eyes warm, the skin around them soft and so, so loving. “Every second I’ve known you, you’ve been the most real person I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t feel like it. I feel like I lost half my life to a lie.”

“It wasn’t your lie.”

I want to cry at his words, which ring through me like a gong.

“Let’s find some truth right now,” he murmurs as he caresses my breast, undressing me slowly, dropping kisses everywhere he goes.

Soon we’re both naked, my skin brushing against the sheets, then against the thick, coarse hair of his legs.

When we kiss, my mouth feels raw from his beard, but it’s a good kind of raw.

A real kind of raw.

Here, as he presses against me, there are no threats.

Here, as he kisses a trail down between my breasts and over my belly, there are no lies.

Here, as he parts my knees and kisses and licks my clitoris with a tender touch that makes me turn to fire and flame, there is no mythology.

His mouth feels exquisite, my hands finding his hair, threading through the thick curls, enjoying every bit of attention he gives me.

His hands move to my inner thigh, then up to my belly, long limbs stretching up to find my breasts. I begin to move against his mouth, a tiny rhythm.

“Go with me,” he murmurs, breaking the maddening tonguing.

“Come for me,” he insists, then goes back to his feverish talents.

Before I can release fully into this, the rising, building, cresting climax inside, I worry I’m doing this wrong.

I tug lightly on his hair and he stops, looking up at me from between my thighs.

“Mmm?” he asks, licking his lips. “You taste amazing.”

“I, uh – what about you?”

“I don’t know how I taste.”

“I don’t mean that!” I giggle. “I mean – what am I supposed to do? Teach me. Tell me what to do. I feel like I’m being selfish.”

“Selfish?”

“You’re doing all the work and I’m just here receiving it.”

“That’s exactly how this works. Your job is to enjoy this as much as you want to,” he says firmly, wide palms cupping my knees as his mouth goes back to do the unspeakable, the unbearably sensitive, the –

Oh.

Oh.

I can’t control what happens next, but I buck against him and he follows me. I swear I feel him laugh, but my mind is gone, floating off on fireworks, my body no longer mine. When I shatter and fall, as I catch my breath he comes up between my legs, kissing me with lips that taste like me.

His cock is right at my entrance and I reach down to guide him in. I’m so wet and warm and ready for him, the sensation of his shaft inside me a completion I didn’t know I needed.

And as we move together, I feel like I’m reclaiming something that was taken from me. Not just my body, but my choice.

My power.

My freedom.

“You feel so good, so good,” he groans as I wrap myself around him, ankles against his back, hands roaming over his thickly muscled shoulders. He’s muscular and athletic, and as he drives each thrust into me I want more.

So much more.

I want his power. His full attention. His time. His gaze. His vulnerability. His cunning. His humor. His –

I want it all.

I want him.

When Cam comes it’s electric, his groan a sound I cherish because I made him make that sound. Me.

Only me.

When it’s over, we lie tangled in the sheets, his arms wrapped around me, my head resting on his chest. His heart beats steady beneath my ear, and I let the sound soothe me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my fingers tracing small circles on his chest.

“For what?” he asks, his voice soft and warm.

“For being you,” I say. “For waiting. For loving me.”

He kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering there. “You never have to thank me for that,” he says. “It’s easy to love you, Paigelynn. You’re everything to me.”

“And you just made me real.”

“You were real all along.”

“Then we just made our own reality.”