Page 26 of Worth the Wait
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says quietly. “You just... you look like you again.”
“Like me again?”
“Like the Lianne I remember. Without all the...” He gestures vaguely at where I was standing by the bathroom mirror. “The armor.”
I touch my bare cheek self-consciously. “I look like I’m twelve without makeup.”
“You look beautiful,” he says simply, the honesty in his voice making something flutter in my chest.
I shouldn’t allow it. But that would be hypocritical of me. After that kiss in the cellar, how can I pretend that I don’t wanthim? That I haven’t imagined being with him again, despite everything that happened four years ago?
He reaches over and turns out the light, plunging us into semi-darkness. I can hear the rain pounding against the windows, punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder. It feels like we’re alone in the world, like there isn’t anyone else but us.
“So,” I say finally, because the silence is becoming unbearable. “This is nice.”
Cameron turns his head to look at me, and I can see amusement in his expression despite the awkwardness of our situation. “The storm? The traffic jam? Or the honeymoon suite?”
“All of it, obviously. This is exactly how I planned to spend my Wednesday evening.”
He laughs, the sound warm and familiar in the darkness. “I have to admit, it’s not what I expected when I offered to drive you to Santa Barbara.”
“No?” I turn on my side to face him. “What did you think would happen?”
Cameron mirrors my position, and suddenly we’re much closer than we were when we were both lying on our backs staring at the ceiling. Close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, close enough that I’m reminded of how good he smelled in that wine cellar.
“Honestly? I thought we’d select some wines, maintain professional boundaries, and drive back to LA with a better understanding of Sterling Industries’ beverage requirements.”
“Very practical.”
“I’m a practical man.” But there’s something in his voice that suggests he’s not feeling particularly practical right now.
“Are you?” I ask softly. “Because kissing me in that wine cellar didn’t seem very practical.”
The mention of our kiss changes the atmosphere in the room immediately. The careful distance we’ve been maintaining feels suddenly inadequate.
“No,” Cameron admits. “That wasn’t practical at all.”
“Do you regret it?”
He’s quiet for so long that I start to think he’s not going to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough with something that sounds like honesty mixed with want.
“I regret that it took me four years to do it again.”
My chest tightens, the raw honesty in his words resonating deep and hard.
“Cam…”
The sound of his old name from my lips seems to break whatever restraint he’s been maintaining as he reaches out to touch my face.
“I’ve missed hearing you say my name like that,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone the same way he did in the wine cellar.
“I’ve missed saying it.”
When he kisses me this time, it’s different from the wine cellar. Less tentative, more certain. Like he’s showing me he knows who I am, that he wants me anyway.
His fingers slide into my hair, and I make a small sound of surrender as I kiss him back, letting go of the past, letting go of everything but this moment.
