I froze.
He froze.
And then I sprang into action, bending over to grab the towel and clutch it to my chest, face steaming red. When I looked back up, he was smirking — tall and dark and smirking at me with fire in his eyes.
“Honey, I’m home.”
I laughed and dropped my face into my free hand. “Oh, my God.”
He pulled me into a hug, careful not to disturb my towel or touch any naked skin that would have been considered out of bounds. “Can you greet me like this every day when I come home?”
“I want to die.” I muttered into his chest.
“Why? That was seriously the highlight of my day.”
I laughed again, feeling ridiculous. “Let me go put some clothes on.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Not too many,” he whispered as he pulled away, winking at me before turning into his room.
I felt giddy and a little lightheaded as I dressed in the dim room, hearing him moving around the apartment and into the kitchen. I’d just pulled on my shorts when I heard his footsteps in the hallway.
When I turned, he was leaning on the doorframe in his pajamas, holding my phone, looking amused. “So I found this in the fridge.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Weird.”
“Care to share why?” he asked with a smirk.
I walked over to him and reached for it. “Nope.”
He held it up. “Ah, ah, ah.”
I jumped for it, and he held it out of my reach.
I hung my hands on my hips and glared at him. “Not fair.”
“Why was your phone in the fridge, Cam?” He bent, reaching with his free hand to wrap his arm around my waist, pulling me to him. When he stood, he took me with him. “Come on. Tell me.”
“No. It’s embarrassing.” I wound my arms around his neck to make it a little easier for him.
“More embarrassing than screaming like you were in a horror movie and ending up accidentally naked in the hallway?”
My cheeks flushed. “Yes.”
He kissed me, and I melted into him. When he broke away, he nuzzled in my ear. “Please, tell me.”
“It’s dumb,” I muttered.
He pulled back to look at me and smiled. “I’m sure it isn’t. What’s going on? I promise, I won’t think it’s dumb.”
“I dunno, Tyler,” I said, and then it all just fell out of my mouth like verbal vomit. “I just … I didn’t hear from you all day, which isn’t a big deal, don’t get me wrong. Like, it’s not your fault, I knew you were busy,” I rambled, “but I just kept thinking about you and wondering if you were okay, if we were okay, and I was losing my mind, so I put my phone in the fridge so I’d stop checking it, okay?” I took a breath.
His smile fell. “I’m sorry, Cam. We were just so busy—”
“No, no. Don’t apologize, seriously. It’s my anxiety, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”
“Well, I mean, you did put your phone in the fridge,” he teased.
I tried to smile.
He kissed me again and walked me backward toward the bed, laying me down. “Tell me what I have to do, Cam.” He crawled onto the bed, hovering over me, his eyes dark and pleading. “Tell me what I need to say,” he whispered.
I cupped his jaw. “Nothing,” I said softly. “You’ve already given me so much.”
He bent to press his lips to mine and kissed me with intention, with ownership and sweet command. My hands moved down his back, to the hem of his shirt and under. His skin was hot and soft, and I imagined it against mine.
The thought sent a ripple of need through me.
The kiss deepened, mouths wider, breath heavy, more intense than it had been before, feverish and earnest. His hips pressed against mine, the length of him hard against the length of me, and I moaned, flexing against him.
He broke away, kissing my jaw as my head dropped back, his hand splayed across my neck. “Cam,” he whispered, a plea and a warning.
But I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him to know he’d done everything right.
I reached down to grab his shirt and tugged — he backed away, kneeling between my legs to pull it off. I was mesmerized by the stretching of his body, the muscles on his chest as he tossed it, but before he bent down to kiss me again, I reached across my stomach for the hem of my own shirt, meeting his eyes before pulling it over my head, leaving me in nothing but my sleep shorts.
I don’t think he was breathing — I know for sure that I wasn’t — as his eyes moved down my body without a hint of pressure, only simple appreciation and care. He laid his body down on mine — the skin against skin everything I’d thought it would be — propping himself on his forearms, caging me in his arms. His hands were in my hair, his eyes searching mine. And then he kissed me.
Everything was different than it had been — our hands, our lips, our breaths — the complacent kisses we’d exchanged gone, replaced with fire and need. He kissed me with devotion and promise. And when he broke away and looked into my eyes, I was lost.
He moved down my body, kissing from my neck to my collarbone, settling his chest between my legs. He watched his hands stroke the skin between my breasts, trailing his fingertips along the curve, leaving a riot of goosebumps in their wake. My hand slipped into his hair, my heart aching at the worship of him cupping my breast, his lids falling shut, the sight of him closing his lips over my nipple. I sighed, my fingers tightening with his teeth, his tongue sweeping a circle, pulling to suck.