Touch Me Like You Miss Me
"Cameron, I'm so tired of repeating myself!" Your voice echoed through the apartment, louder than you meant, but you didn't care anymore. Your hands were shaking, and not from fear-just pure, exhausted anger.
He shot right back. "Tired? You're tired? All you do is accuse me of things I'm not doing!"
"Oh, please," you snapped, stepping forward. "You don't listen, you don't show up, you don't care until I'm already fed up. And then you want to play victim."
He threw his hands in the air. "Because you blow everything out of proportion! Every little thing becomes a whole scene with you!"
"Oh wow," you laughed, but it was sharp, painful. "So now I'm the problem? I'm dramatic? I'm the issue? Got it. Great."
Cameron's jaw tightened. "I didn't say you're the problem-"
"You didn't have to!" you cut him off. "Your actions say it every damn day!"
He stepped closer, frustration radiating off him. "Why are you doing this? Why do you always have to push?"
"Because you don't fight for anything!" you shouted back. "Not for this relationship, not for me-nothing! You shut down and expect me to just deal with it."
His voice rose again. "Because every time I try, you walk away!"
"I walk away because you don't give me anything to stay for!"
The silence after that line was brutal.
You grabbed your bag, fed up, chest tight, heart hurting in a way you couldn't swallow anymore. Your voice came out lower this time-shaky but firm:
"If I walk out that door, Cameron... if you let me leave tonight..." You swallowed hard. "I'm not coming back."
Something flickered in his expression-fear, regret, something dangerously close to breaking. For one second, you thought he'd reach for you. Stop you. Say something real.
But then he looked away. Looked down. Stepped aside.
"Do what you want," he muttered, voice cold. "I'm done arguing."
The words hit like a punch.
You stared at him-waiting, hoping, begging silently that he'd say anything that sounded like love.
So you nodded, even though it hurt.
"Alright", you whispered.
No voice calling your name.
No hand grabbing your wrist.
Just the sharp, final click of the door behind you.
Twelve months is a long time. Long enough to heal. Long enough to level up. Long enough to become the woman you always knew you could be.
Your mind? Clearer. Your Confidence? Unshakeable. Your body? Curvier, Softer in the right places, tighter in others-glowing like you learned how to love yourself from scratch.
You arrived forty-five minutes late, but in the kind of entrance that made lateness look intentional.
Flowers in one hand, a gift bag in the other, and a big bouquet of balloons trailing behind you- you walked into the dining room with a smile that could've lit the whole place up.
"Girl, finally!" your friend laughed, pushing back her chair as you approached.
"I know, I know, I'm late," you said, pulling her into a warm hug. "Traffic was disgusting, and the florist wanted to fight me... but I'm here."
You handed her the flowers and gift bag, kissing her cheek. "You deserve all this, birthday queen."
"Awww, stop, you're so sweet," she giggled, taking everything from you. "Come sit, we just started eating."
You look around the table-full, every seat taken, everyone chatting, plates full.
The one you hadn't noticed because you were too busy playing the perfect guest.
And sitting right beside it... was Cameron Cade.
You felt his stare before you even turned fully toward him. Like heat on your skin. Like memory. Like regret.
Your friend pointed cheerfully at the empty chair. "There, babe! Sit next to Cameron."
You froze for half a second - barely noticeable - but he noticed.
He sat up straighter, almost like he didn't trust what he was seeing. His eyes dragged over you slowly, carefully, like he was trying to put together pieces of the woman you'd become in a year.
Your friend was already walking away with her gifts, oblivious to the silent earthquake happening beside the table. You swallowed, plastering a polite smile on your face, even though your heart was doing its own drum solo.
"Perfect," you said lightly, sliding into the chair. "This should be... fun."
Cameron didn't take his eyes off of you.
And when you finally glanced at him, he whispered low enough that only you could hear:
You lifted your napkin, laid it across your lap and replied quietly:
But you didn't look at him.
The night had only started.
He didn't expect you. Not tonight. Not here. Not this version of you.
The second you walked in - flowers, balloons, that damn dress hugging you like it was made for you - his heart stopped. For a whole second he swore he forgot how to breathe.
He told himself he'd look away. Act unbothered. Pretend he wasn't falling apart just from seeing you.
Yeah... that didn't happen.
He couldn't take his eyes off you.
You hugged your friend, laughing, your voice softer but sharper somehow - like you'd grown into yourself. Like the girl he remembered had become a woman while he stayed exactly the same.
God, you were beautiful before... but now?
Then your friend pointed at the only open chair. Next to him.
He watched your body pause - subtle, controlled, polite - but he caught it. He felt it like a punch in the chest.
You didn't want to sit by him. And you hid it so well most people wouldn't notice.
But he noticed everything about you. He always had. He just never appreciated it until it was too late.
When you sat down beside him, you didn't even look at him. Not glance. Not a quick "hey." Not even the cold, annoyed eye-roll he used to get when you were mad.
You treated him like air.
It killed him. And somehow made him want you even more.
He stared at your profile - the way your lashes brushed your cheek, the curve of your lips as you smiled at someone across the table, the way you sat straighter now, like your confidence was its own spotlight.
He remembered the night you left. The door closing. The silence after. How he fell apart the second you were gone.
And now here you were - glowing, leveled up, happy without him - and he couldn't even say your name.
When he finally whispered, "You look... wow." it was pathetic compared to what he really wanted to say:
I hate myself for letting you go.
I haven't stopped thinking about you for a single damn day.
Don't ignore me... please.
Two tiny words. Sharp, Effortless, Untouched by him.
And you still didn't look at him. Not even once.
It destroyed him. But it also lit something inside him he hadn't felt in a year - this burning, aching craving. Not just for your body... but for your attention, your voice, your fire, your softness, your everything.
Not just in his bed. In his life.
And sitting there next to you, invisible to you, he realized the thing that terrified him most:
You didn't need him anymore.
And for the first time in his life... Cameron Cade was scared he would never get another chance.
The moment you sat down, you knew he was staring. Not normal staring. The kind that crawled up your spine, warmed the back of your neck, and practically whispered, Look at me.
You adjusted your napkin, fixed your dress, smile at the person across from you - anything to make it obvious you weren't acknowledging the man beside you.
The same man who let you walk out a year ago without a word.
Everyone at the table was chatting, laughing, passing dishes, but in your head? You could practically hear Cameron breathing.
You kept your eyes on your plate as you reached for the bread basket, calm and slow, like he wasn't two inches away practically melting in his chair.
You felt him watching the way you moved. The way your wrist bent. The way you pushed your hair behind your ear.
A year ago, you would've met his stare. Asked why he was being weird. Tried to fix it.
You leveled up. Mind, body, spirit - everything.
He didn't get access to you just because he wanted it again.
At one point, your friend asked you something across the table, and while you answered, you heard Cameron shift in his seat. Leaning closer. Like he wanted to catch your scent. Hear your voice better. Remind himself what he lost.
You didn't give him the satisfaction.
You answered the question with a bright smile, your eyes never drifting his way.
How tense he was. How quiet he'd gotten. How his knee brushed yours under the table - barely a graze, maybe accidental... maybe not.
You moved your leg away casually, like you didn't feel spark go through you.
You wondered if he noticed.
You took a sip of your drink, letting the ice clink against the glass as you set it down, finally giving yourself one stolen second glance at him from the corner of your eye.
Eyes low. Jaw tight. Chest rising a little too fast.
And he was looking at you like you were the first thing he'd seen in a long time that actually made him feel something.
You turned back to your plate immediately.
He didn't deserve that look from you. Not yet.
Let him crave. Let him regret. Let him sit there and remember the moment he stepped aside and let you walk out that door.
You were the one in control. And he knew it.
The party had shifted from dinner to a relaxed, candle-it lounge vibe - music, drinks flowing, people laughing in clusters around the room.
You were talking with two friends when Dontae wandered over, drink in hand, giving you that familiar half-smile.
"Well, look who decided to show up," he teased lightly.
You laughed. "I told you I was coming, chill."
He leaned closer just enough to hear you over the music - not touching, not crowded - just comfortably familiar.
"You look different," he said, eyes sweeping quickly then snapping back up. "In a good way. A really good way."
You felt warmth rise to your cheeks - not because of him, but because you knew who was watching from across the room.
"Thank you," you said casually, giving him a small smile.
You and Dontae talked - light banter, old jokes, nothing deep. He wasn't all over you, just friendly. Playful. That easy harmless kind of attention you didn't mind when you knew it was driving someone else crazy.
He chuckled. "You wanna dance?"
You didn't hesitate. Didn't scan the room. Didn't check for Cameron.
You just said, "Sure, like it was the simplest decision in the world.
Inside you felt the exact moment Cameron locked onto you - like the air shifted, like someone whispered your name across the room without speaking it. You didn't look at him. You refused to give him that satisfaction.
Instead, you walked onto the dance floor with Dontae, every step slow, controlled, deliberate.
Dontae kept his hands respectful - one near your waist but not touching, the other guiding lightly. Nothing intimate. Nothing scandalous. Just enough to look good.
You laughed at something he said, letting your head tilt back slightly.
Unbothered. Casual. Chill. But your mind? Your mind was a storm. He's watching. Good. Feel it. Feel every second you lost.
Dontae leaned in, voice low so only you could hear. "You know he's staring, right? Like, hard."
You looked at Donate with a slow knowing smirk.
"Oh, you want him mad," he whispered. "You're dangerous."
You shrugged, biting back your smile, "I'm just dancing."
But you weren't. You knew exactly what you were doing.
You swayed a little closer - not touching, just enough to make it look like a moment. And you felt it - Cameron's stare sharpening like a blade, heat crawling over your skin from across the room.
You didn't let your expression change. Not once.
Dontae laughed softly. "He looks like he's about to walk over here and ruin both our evenings."
"Not my problem," you said lightly.
But your heart beat faster.
Because it was the point.
Because you wanted him to snap.
You moved with the music, fluid and effortless, ignoring the tension crackling from the corner of your vision.
Every time Dontae spun you or leaned in close to say something, you felt Cameron's jealousy coil tighter.
Dontae leaned in again, voice almost amused. "He's coming."
You kept dancing like you hadn't heard him.
Then you finally - finally - let your eyes flick over, just a glance - catching Cameron stalking toward you slow and controlled, jaw tight, eyes dark.
You looked away instantly, pretending you hadn't seen a thing.
You were screaming with satisfaction.
I'd been watching you for fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes of pretending I wasn't tracking every move you made. Fifteen minutes of forcing myself to stay where I was, telling myself I had no right to feel anything.
Until Dontae stepped in front of you. Gosh that fucking Dontae, I could rip his head off right about now.
You smiled - carless, unbothered - like nothing could touch you. And it kilt me.
He asked you to dance. You said yes in the kind voice that made my chest twist. And then you and him were on that dance floor.
Not pressed together. Not intimate. Nothing that should've driven me insane. But it did.
Because you were happy. Because you were glowing. Because I wasn't the reason anymore.
And because every time he leaned in to talk to you, you laughed like you didn't feel me watching you, burning holes straight through him.
Except you did. I knew you did.
You didn't look at me once - not a single glance - which meant you knew exactly where I was. Knew I was watching. Knew It was killing me.
That's what made it worse. You were doing it on purpose. My jaw locked. My chest tightened. And I couldn't take it anymore.
I started walking towards you, each step heavier than the last, the edges of my vision blurring with heat. I saw Dontae look up first - he stepped back a little, smirking like this was entertainment.
Then you turned. And everything in me stopped. Your eyes met mine slow and confident. No guilt. No apology. Just a challenge.
That slow, devilish, knowing smirk that told me you were fully aware of what you were doing to me. And you liked it.
Something in me snapped cleanly in half.
Didn't think. Didn't ask. Didn't consider the crowd, the music, the birthday girl - none of it.
I just grabbed your wrist. You didn't have time to react before I pulled you through the sliding doors and out onto the balcony, the cool night air hitting us like a bucket of ice over a bonfire.
You yanked your hand back immediately. Of course you did.
"Don't touch me like that," you snapped, chin lifted, eyes sharp enough to slice me open.
Good. I deserved the cuts.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to breathe, trying not to drag you right back against me like my body instinctively wanted.
"We're doing this now?" you asked with a mocking little laugh. "You had a whole year to say something. Now suddenly you're bold."
"I'm bold because you know damn well you shouldn't be letting him touch you like that," I shot back, stepping closer before I realized I was doing it.
You blinked. Then your mouth curved into the slow, lethal smile that always meant I was screwed.
"Ohhh, so you get to let me walk out your door-" You jabbed your finger into my chest.
"—and ignore me for months-"
"—but the second I live my life? Suddenly you care?"
"I never stopped caring," | said, louder than I meant to.
Loud enough that someone inside probably heard. "You think I didn't feel it when you walked out? You think I didn't replay that night a thousand times? You think I don't know I was the one who fucked up?"
You lifted your eyebrows. "Wow. A whole confession. Look at you. Growth."
"So am I." You crossed your arms. "Whatever guilt trip you're trying to play? Not working."
I laughed once-bitter, sharp, painful.
"You're really gonna stand there and act like you feel nothing?"
Your voice lowered. Soft. Dangerous.
It hit me harder than the yelling ever could.
"You're dancing with him like-" I gestured helplessly.
"Like you didn't ever dance with me. Like I didn't-like we didn't-"
"Like what, Cameron?" you cut in. "Spell it out. Since we're finally talking about things."
I stepped closer. Close enough to smell your perfume.
Close enough that my pulse jumped just from breathing the same air as you.
"Like you weren't mine," I said quietly, "and I wasn't stupid enough to lose you."
Your lips parted-shock, anger, disbelief, all flickering in your eyes.
"You did lose me," you whispered. "You let me walk."
"And I've regretted it every damn day."
You looked away, swallowing hard, but I caught your jaw, turning your face back to me.
"But don't get it twisted," | added, voice low. "Watching you with him tonight? That almost killed me. And if you think I'm leaving this party without saying what I should've said a year ago-"
You pulled back, quick, like my touch burned.
"Oh, no. You don't get to decide when we talk. Not anymore."
I tried taking another step toward you, but you held up a hand.
And even though your voice was steady, your eyes weren't.
"I'm not the girl who begged you to care," you said. "You don't get that version of me again."
I stared at you-a year of regret, hunger, frustration, and longing hitting all at once so hard I almost reached for you anyway.
"Then tell me what version of you I get," I whispered.
"Because whatever it is...I'll take it."
You looked like you wanted to scream at me.
But then the balcony door slid open.
Someone called your name.
And just like that, you slipped past me and walked inside
-your dress shimmering, your hair bouncing, your presence electric.
And for the second time in my life...
...I watched you walk away.
I wasn't letting it end there.
The second the balcony door closed behind you, the music hit you like a wave.
Too many feelings you weren't supposed to still have.
Your chest felt tight, like every breath had to fight its way out.
You mumbled something to the birthday girl—a smile, a quick "bathroom, be right back"—and then you slipped down the hallway, opening the first empty door you found.
You shut the door behind you and pressed both hands to your face.
"What the hell is happening," you whispered to yourself.
Your heart was still racing, your skin still buzzing from the way he looked at you, the way he said the things he should've said a year ago. And you hated-hated-that part of yourself that still reacted like that.
You took a few deep breaths, pacing.
He doesn't get to shake you anymore.
He doesn't get to unravel you.
You finally started to calm down when the doorknob clicked.
And Cameron stepped inside.
You sighed heavy, looking away from him.
"Cam—" you breathed out, shaken. "Please, you can't be in here."
He closed the door behind him anyway.
Didn't say a word at first.
Just looked at you with that unreadable expression-the one that always made your stomach drop and your pulse spike.
"You ran," he finally said, voice low. "Again."
"I needed space," you shot back, even though your voice wasn't as strong as you wanted.
You stepped back instantly.
"Don't be scared of me," he said softly.
"I'm not scared," You lied.
"Then why are you backing up?"
"Because you don't listen," You snapped, stomach flipping.
"I said I needed a minute."
"And I said I'm not leaving things unsaid this time."
You kept moving backward until-
His eyes dropped to your lips for half a second-so quick you might've imagined it.
But you didn't. You felt it.
You tried slipping sideways, planning to squeeze past him and duck out, but he moved faster-his hand catching your wrist, warm, firm, gentle but unyielding.
"You're not running from me this time," he said, voice rough.
You swallowed, pulse hammering so loud you swore he could hear it.
"You can't just-" you started.
He stepped even closer, caging you in without touching anything but your wrist.
"Tell me you feel nothing," he whispered. "Say it. And I'll walk out that door."
His breath brushed your cheek.
Your body betrayed you completely.
He smirked-slow and knowing, the kind that said he already had his answer.
"I knew it," he murmured.
You sucked in a sharp breath, anger and longing crashing together in your veins.
"Cameron," you said, voice shaking, "let me go."
His fingers loosened around your wrist... but he didn't move away.
"Once you tell me the truth," he said quietly.
And with him that close, his eyes locked to your, the room spinning around us...
Lying suddenly felt impossible.
His grip softened completely, but he still had your wrist, thumb brushing slow across your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you.
You looked away-because looking at him was dangerous, because looking at him made old wounds throb and something warm press painfully against your ribs.
He gently tilted your chin back toward him with two fingers.
"Don't do that," he whispered.
"Don't look away from me."
Your throat tightened. "Cam, please-"
"No." His voice cracked. "Not this time."
You blinked hard, trying to keep the tears from spilling over, but one slipped loose anyway.
He looked at it like it physically hurt him.
His thumb moved up, wiping it away tenderly-almost reverently.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
He'd never said those words like that. Not once. Not the real version.
"I'm sorry I let you walk out that night." His jaw flexed.
"I'm sorry I didn't run after you."
His eyes shined with a guilt you'd never seen on him.
"I'm sorry I kept thinking you'd come back on your own instead of realizing I should've fought for you."
A breath shuddered out of you. "Don't-"
He cupped your face with both hands, holding you steady, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"No. You need to hear this."
You shook your head, another tear sliding free. "Cameron-"
"Look at me," he said softly.
You tried. You really did. But the second your eyes met his, everything inside you cracked.
"I told myself you were better off without me," he continued, voice low and raw. "But that was a lie. A weak excuse. The truth is...I didn't know how to fix what I broke. And I was too damn proud to say it."
Tears kept slipping, and every time you turned your head, his hands moved with you-gentle, insistent, guiding your face back to his.
"You got stronger without me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You leveled up. You glow now. And I hate that I wasn't there to see you grow into this version of you."
"Stop," You whispered, because hearing him say it was too much, too real.
He stepped closer, crowding you—not trapping, just... there. Warm. Familiar.
"I spent a year wishing I could take it all back," he said. "A year wanting you. Missing you. Hating myself for letting you walk away."
You bit your lip, because the ache in your chest was overwhelming.
He brushed his thumb along your cheek again, tender, slow.
"And seeing you tonight?" His voice broke a little.
"Looking like that? Laughing without me? Dancing with someone else-letting someone else touch what used to be mine-"
He inhaled sharply, like the thought physically pained him.
"—it made everything hit me at once. How badly I messed up. How much I still-how much I still want you."
He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closing like he needed the contact to keep breathing.
"I'm not here to trap you. I'm not here to push you. I just _"
His voice was barely steady.
"I need you to know I never stopped loving you. Not for a second."
He opened his eyes again, glassy, soft, searching.
"Say something," he whispered. "Please."
And you could feel how desperate he was-how much he needed your voice, your answer, your heartbeat.
Your breath came out uneven, chest shaking, his confession echoing in your head so loudly it drowned out the music outside, the party, the world.
He wanted you to say something.
"You hurt me," you whispered.
His eyes flickered-pain, guilt, something deeper.
But you kept going, the words spilling out like a dam had cracked open.
"You have no idea how much you hurt me, Cameron."
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
He just held your face like it was something fragile he was terrified to lose again.
"I begged you to fight for me," you said, tears falling faster now. "Do you understand that? I begged. And you just... let me walk out the door like I didn't matter."
"You mattered," he said immediately, voice shaking. "You were—"
"Then why didn't you go after me?" It came out raw. Loud. Almost a sob. "Why didn't you care enough to stop me?!"
His fingers tightened just slightly at your jaw-not painful, just grounding, like he was trying to hold on to the words.
"I did care," he said. "More than I knew how to handle."
"That's not good enough," you said, voice cracking. "You can't love someone and stay silent. You can't say I mattered when everything you did screamed the opposite."
His forehead rested against mine again, eyes closing like my words were stabbing straight through him.
"I know," he breathed. "I know. And I hate myself for it. I should've chased you. I should've held onto you. I should've fought."
"You didn't," I whispered harshly. "You didn't fight for me. And I had to live with that."
He opened his eyes, glassy, devastated.
"I lived with it too," he said softly. "Every damn day."
You shook my head, looking away again because it was too much-
-but he caught your chin gently, turning you back to him.
"Look at me," he whispered. "Please."
Tears blurred everything, but his face stayed sharp, close, inescapable.
"You made me feel like I wasn't worth choosing," you said, voice barely there. "Do you know what that does to someone? To feel disposable to the one person you thought would never make you feel that way?"
His eyes went wide, his jaw tightening like he was swallowing a scream.
"You weren't disposable," he said fiercely. "You were everything. I was just too scared to admit it."
You let out a shaking breath.
"You broke me," you whispered. "I had to put myself back together alone."
He nodded slowly, painfully.
"I know," he whispered back. "And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
He brushed another tear away with the back of his knuckles, so gentle it made you cry harder.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me tonight," he said quietly. "I just want you to know I see it—all the damage I caused. I see it now. And you didn't deserve any of it."
Your chin trembled, breath catching in your throat.
"Cameron..." you whispered.
His hands slipped down to your waist-light, hesitant, waiting for permission, like he was scared I'd disappear again.
"I'm here," he said softly.
"Whatever you need from me-anger, space, answers-I'll take it. Just...don't shut me out."
And for the first time in a year...
He looked like he was the one breaking.
His hands were still at your waist-barely touching, just warm enough to make your breath hitch. And maybe that was why everything inside you suddenly surged up again.
Maybe it was the year of silence.
Maybe it was the way he finally confessed what you waited too long to hear.
Hot. Sharp. Uncontrolled.
You pushed his hands off.
"Don't act like you get it now," you snapped, stepping away from the wall even though your legs were trembling. "You don't get to understand it now. A year later."
Cameron straightened, chest rising. "I'm trying to-"
"No, you're trying to fix your guilt," you shot back. "You're trying to make you feel better."
"It is," you said, voice cracking. "If you really cared this whole time, you wouldn't have waited until you saw me with someone else to suddenly wake up."
His jaw clenched. "That's not what-"
"You ignored me," you cut in. "You ignored every message, every moment I needed closure, every chance to fix it.
And now you're here telling me you 'regretted it every day'? Really?"
"You think it was easy for me?" he said, voice raising.
"You think I didn't go insane wondering what you were doing? Who you were with? Whether you hated me?"
"You didn't wonder enough to fight for me!"
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to keep from yelling.
"You let me!" You fired back.
One heavy beat of silence.
Then he stepped closer-too close-eyes burning.
"I didn't chase you because I was scared," he said.
"Scared l'd mess up again. Scared you'd leave anyway.
Scared I wasn't enough for you."
"That wasn't your choice to make," you said through a tight throat. "You made the decision for both of us. You walked away just as much as I did."
He grimaced like the truth physically hit him. "I know."
Your voice cracked again.
"You don't know what it felt like to sit alone in my room wondering why the person I loved couldn't even try."
He stared at you like you were breaking him open cell by cell.
"And do you know what it felt like to watch you tonight?" he said low, voice rough.
"To see you laugh like I never made you cry? To see someone else's hands on you-touching what I threw away?"
"That's not my problem," you snapped.
"It is," he said, stepping even closer, "because it killed me. And you knew what you were doing."
You scoffed, looking away because he wasn't wrong.
But he grabbed your chin again-gentler, softer, but unignorable-and forced your eyes back to his.
"Look at me," he said, voice a low command.
"Stop telling me what to do," you whispered, breath shaking.
"Then stop running from what you feel."
His voice was calmer now, but full of heat.
"You're mad, you're hurt, you hate me right now-but you still feel something. I can see it all over you."
You swallowed, heart racing.
"Don't flatter yourself," you whispered even though your voice wavered.
He gave a humorless laugh. "You think I can't tell when you're lying?"
"You're shaking," he said softly, eyes flicking to your lips.
"You won't stop looking at my mouth."
He leaned closer, breath brushing your cheek.
"And your breath's doing that little hitch it always did when you wanted to kiss me."
But he didn't move away either.
"You still want me," he whispered.
"You're just scared of what that means."
"I don't want you," you shot back, even though your voice betrayed you entirely.
"Then why are you trembling?" he murmured.
"I'm angry, Cameron!" you shouted.
He stepped forward until your back hit the wall again, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in without touching you.
"Good," he said, voice low and dark.
"Be angry. Yell at me. Hit me. But don't lie to me."
Your breath caught, heat crawling under your skin.
"You think this is easy for me?" you whispered. "Seeing you after a year? Hearing everything I wanted to hear when it's already too late?"
"It's not too late," he said instantly.
"For you?" he asked. "Or for us?"
He leaned closer, lips inches from yours-close enough to steal your breath, close enough to make your heart throb against your ribs painfully.
"Say you don't want me," he whispered. "Look me in the eye and say it...and I'll walk out."
You clenched your jaw, tears burning again.
He exhaled like he'd been drowning and finally broke the surface.
Your chest rose faster, lips parting on instinct, your backed pressed fully to the wall as he took inches away - close enough for your heart to completely betray you.
He didn't kiss you. But somehow... it felt even more dangerous.
Because this wasn't just heat. This was history. This was everything unsaid pressed into the space between you.
Cameron was standing so close you could feel the heat of him, but not close enough to touch you-like he was holding himself back by the thinnest thread.
Both of you were breathing hard, chest rising and falling in uneven, desperate pulls of air. His eyes dropped to your mouth, then lifted back to yours, dark and hungry and hurting all at once.
You just stared at each other like touching would be a point of no return...and not touching was killing you both.
His voice broke the silence first-low, hoarse, barely a whisper:
Your pulse jumped so hard you felt it in your fingertips.
You leaned forward just an inch, your voice trembling but
"I want you to touch me like you miss me."
Something in him snapped-quietly, beautifully.
His hand slid to your jaw, fingers trembling just a little as if he'd been starving for this moment. You gasped when his thumb brushed your cheek, gentle but claiming, and that was all it took.
Or maybe both of you moved at the exact same time, because the moment your lips met, everything else disappeared. The world narrowed to the taste of him, the urgency of his mouth, the soft sound he made against your lips like he'd been waiting years just to breathe you in.
His hands moved-up your waist, over your back, pulling you closer with a desperation you felt all the way down your spine. Every place he touched lit up, pulling tiny gasps from you, making you melt into him like your body had been waiting for this exact shape, this exact warmth, this exact person.
The kiss deepened-hotter, hungrier. Your fingers curled into his shirt like you needed him to stay. His breath mixed with yours, fast and uneven, each kiss growing more intense, more consuming, more like a fire that wanted everything.
You didn't even realize how far you'd let it go until Cameron suddenly slowed.
He broke the kiss with a shuddering exhale, resting his forehead against yours, both of you breathing like you'd just run miles.
His hands were still on you.
His voice-soft, raw, honest:
"I want this. I want you. And I'm not messing it up this time... I can't lose you again."
And something inside you-something you tried to bury for a year-finally came back to life.
In that moment, forehead to forehead, breath mingled, lips still tingling from the kiss you'd waited a year for...
You were always going to love Cameron Cade.
Thank you for reading! Keep engaging guys, I feel so seen. Second story down more to come! xoxo
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