Chapter 18: Asked

I slowed down, and Camille made a noise of protest in her throat.

"Don't," she said. "Don't be careful with me."

"I'm not being careful."

"You're being kind. I can feel it." Her nails dragged down my back. "I don't want kind. I want you."

I drove into her, hard and deep, and she cried out and clutched at me with both arms.

"There," she said. "Yes. Like that."

The bed thudded against the wall.

Her breath came in short sobs against my neck.

Her legs locked around my waist.

Every time I pulled back she followed me with her hips.

"Camille."

"Say it again."

"Camille."

"Again."

I said her name against her mouth, over and over, while she shook beneath me.

The panel was a bright blur at the edge of my sight.

C 6.2.

C 7.0.

She tightened around me, her whole body drawn tight.

She came with a long raw cry that she did not try to hide.

I held on, and let her ride it out.

When she opened her eyes again they were wet and dazed.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For every time I said a thing and walked away. For every night you slept alone, while I told myself I was busy."

Her voice cracked.

"You can stop now, if you want. I mean it, Nolan. You can tell me to get out of this bed and I'll go."

"I don't want you to go."

"I'd go. That's what I'm telling you. I won't take it just because you're kind."

I looked down at her.

Her face was open in a way I had not seen in two years, with no tailored suit and no chair and no board.

Under the tears she was waiting for me to say it.

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