Dirty Secret

"Is this goodbye?" My eyes blink open. Fix on him.

He's so handsome in the morning light.

All tall and broad and shirtless.

Mmm, Cam's shoulders. Cam's chest. Cam's chiseled torso.

I want to trace the lines forever.

But this is it. Goodbye.

I expect him to protest, say something about how we'll always be friends, but he doesn't.

He nods. "I'll miss you."

"You have to say a proper goodbye."

"I do?"

"Yeah. Hold on. Let me brush my teeth."

His eyes go to his watch.

"I'll be fast. I promise."

He nods go ahead.

I rush to the bathroom, pee, wash, brush my teeth, meet him in the main room.

He's already in his suit, even the jacket.

And I'm naked. "Well, that's not fair."

"And you torturing me is?"

Am I really the one torturing him? He's incredibly yummy in his suit, but I'm not going to waste time arguing.

I move closer.

He meets me halfway. One hand goes to my lower back. The other goes to my chin.

He tilts my head so we're eye to eye, then he pulls me into a slow, deep kiss.

It's not like our other kisses. It's still intense and hot as hell, but there's a sadness to it too.

We both know this is goodbye.

Our last kiss.

Our last chance to consume each other.

He claims me with his kiss, his finger curling into my skin, his tongue swirling around mine.

Then he pulls back with a heady sigh and he looks at me like he loves me and he says goodbye. "I'll miss you too."

I don't know what to say, so I nod, and I watch him leave, and I savor my hour in his hotel room.

The silk robe, the room service breakfast, the smell of his suit jacket.

The present he left on the table.

Then I pack, and I go back to my apartment to shower and dress and get ready for school, and I turn back into a pumpkin.

Chapter Forty-Four

Sienna

No matter how hard I try to concentrate on math or lunch or conversation with Alice, I drift back to Cam.

His dark eyes, his intense voice, his sweet smile.

His hard body against mine.

His soft skin against my palm.

His deep groan in my ear.

Between classes, I open the present he left me.

Cuff links. Tiny silver circles engraved with his initials.

I read the tiny card—black ink on cream stock—again and again.

You look more dapper in a suit than I do. And I like thinking of you in something of mine, something secret.

Wear them well.

XO Cam

There's no way to explain these.

They mark me as his. Yes, they're small and easy to miss, but anyone who looks closely will see.

I belong to him.

Maybe not anymore. Not the way I did yesterday. But a part of me still does, a part of me always will.

And now… a part of him will always belong to me.

It's more than the cufflinks. It's something else, something I can't see or touch or taste. Some ephemeral quality like love or trust or devotion.

Not what I usually crave.

But with him…

I want all of it.

Soccer practice manages to steal my attention. For the first time all day, I focus on something other than Cam.

I run, I dribble, I kick ass in our scrimmage.

And then I head home, shower, try to find distraction in my homework. When that fails, I climb the floors to Ty and Indigo's place. They're busy, hosting Ty's mom, and some other friends from London, but it's nice being another person at the party.

I stick with Mrs. Hunt, mostly talking about London and embarrassing stories about Ty. She has plenty—no big surprise, he was as exact and restrained as a kid—and I manage to enjoy the evening.

This is what matters. My sister, my family, her new family.

It makes sense ending this thing with Cam.

It's all that makes sense.

But no matter how much I repeat the mantra, I keep drifting back to Love Land. I trace his cufflinks and crave his touch and dream about his lips.

And I wake up empty and lonely and completely uncertain of how to square these two truths.

My sister is the most important person in my life. I can't risk ruining her wedding or her family or her husband's closet friendship.

And I can't stand being away from Cam.

I repeat the mantra all day. Every time my thoughts turn to Cam. To his dark eyes or his soft smile or that sound he makes when he comes.

It doesn't make sense.

This is what makes sense.

And we're smart people. Logical people who do what makes sense.

I need time to get over it, to find another guy who sets me on fire, to put the Atlantic Ocean between us.

Or another focus for my energy. Something more engaging than Psychology 101 lectures.

So when my phone buzzes with a possible distraction, I size the opportunity.

Eve: Hey Sienna, I hope I'm not interrupting your school work. I'd love to ask a favor when you have a second.