Page 17 of What He Doesn't Know

Want rolled off of me like steam. He was just one room over, stripping down, exposing himself for me. I wanted him so bad it physically hurt to wait any longer.

I let out a long exhale, running my fingers through my hair again as my eyes bounced around my reflection.

My small breasts were perky, dusky pink nipples tight and aching for Cameron’s touch. My skin was as white as snow, contrasting the dark hair falling over my shoulders, and I ran my hands down over my slim waist, my hips, imagining his hands on me after months of starvation.

Tonight, he’d kissed me.

Tonight, he’d have me again.

With one more shaky breath, one hand found the cold door knob, and I slowly pushed it open.

Jane and Edward still twitted beneath their black cover a bit, cooing their goodnights to one another, and Cameron was already under the sheets. His back was turned to me, the lamp on his side of the bed casting our bedroom in a soft, warm glow. Just seeing him there, the sheets pooled at his waist, his body expanding with every breath — it set my desire ablaze, the burn of it singeing me from the inside out.

I sauntered over slowly, crawling under the covers behind him.

I hadn’t been that nervous to touch him since the first night I ever did.

With shaky hands, I ran my fingers over the hard muscles of his back, pressing myself closer to him so he could feel my naked body against his own. He was so warm, my own skin like ice, and I moaned a bit at the sensation as I lowered a kiss to his shoulder blade. I kissed him softly, trailing my lips over his shoulder and neck as my hand reached low on his abdomen, skating the dusting of hair there.

A breathy moan left my lips as his body rolled into my touch, just marginally, just enough for me to notice. But when I pushed my fingertips beneath the band of his briefs, his hand shot down to wrap around my wrist.

“I’m beat, Charlie,” he said gently, pulling my hand up to his mouth instead. He kissed my palm, rolling over to catch my lips next. I tried to deepen the kiss while I had him, but he pulled away too quickly, leaning forward to click off the lamp in the next second. “Goodnight.”

And just like that, in one split second, every familiar emotion that had brought me back to life that night died again — this second death even more painful in the warm bed that didn’t warm me any longer.

Rejection seeped through me like poison, killing my desire and confidence both in one fell swoop.

I pulled my hand away like it had been burned, rolling over until I lay on my back, my eyes focusing somewhere beyond the ceiling. Cameron lay so still next to me, like he was afraid to move, afraid tobreathe— like any clue that he was still awake would have me reaching for him, trying to convince him to want this, to want me.

He didn’t want me.

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, and I pressed my fingertips hard over the skin, massaging it as tears pooled in my eyes.

I remembered a time when the thought of him refusing sex would have been laughable. If anything, it was hard formeto keep up withhisdesire. But time had changed everything. It’d changed me, him, the way we were together. It’d changed our circumstances, our futures, and so much more.

Time had wedged miles between us quickly, but it was taking its sweet time bringing us back together.

I wasn’t sure if it ever really would.

When Cameron’s breathing slowed and a soft snore let me know he was asleep, I slipped from the sheets and into the bathroom once more. I closed the door behind me quietly, turning the lock, and then I leaned my back against it with a sigh. The tears I’d been fighting back fell in perfect symmetry with the closing of my eyes, but I swiped them away quickly, crossing the beautiful pearl tile to run a hot bath.

My mind wandered as I sat at the edge of the tub watching the water rush in, my fingers lazily dancing across the top of it. I liked the way it bubbled out around my fingertips if I pressed into the water just enough, but not too much to submerge them.

And as my eyes lost focus, memories flooded in.

Cameron and I that night after the bonfire — the bubbles in the bath and in our champagne, too.

I heard his laugh like it was my own voice, felt his hands like they’d never left, saw his eyes, the way they’d adored me, as if they were a permanent stain in my memory.

But they weren’t.

All of it had faded, and it was my fault.

When the tub was full, I turned the faucet until the water ceased, and then I sank into it slowly. The tub was wide and deep, exactly how I’d always wanted — one that could cover every inch of me. My neck and head were the only things exposed, and I leaned back against the porcelain, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before they closed.

At first I thought of nothing, other than how good the hot water felt as it warmed me. It was nice, to exist in a blissful moment of warmth inside such a dark night that had left me so cold. But once my body adjusted to the warmth, my brain slowly sputtered back to life.

I thought of Cameron again, but that only ignited that zing inside my chest, so I pushed those thoughts away quickly. Nothing stuck for too long before I was moving on to the next thing — my lesson plans, what I wanted to do in the garden that weekend, what I needed to get started on for Mom’s fundraiser.