Page 73 of Cut up
“We kind of are,” he says, not missing a beat. “You, the emotionally guarded but gorgeous heroine. Me, the guy with excellent hair and a power drill.”
I laugh, pressing my hand to my chest in mock awe. “A power drill, huh? Be still my heart.”
“It’s a metaphor,” he says, then shrugs. “For how I fix things. Physically. Sometimes emotionally…”
He’s teasing, but there’s a softness under it, something that makes my throat tighten.
“You think you can fix me, Lucas?” I ask quietly. Interested to see what he says.
He pauses. His gaze flicks to mine, more serious now. “That’s not what I mean. I just like making things feel whole again. Even just for a minute.”
Something in me twists. Because I know what it feels like to be broken. To need someone who won’t run from the sharp edges that I’ve been cut into. I look away and stare at the screen, where Elena is yelling at Damon,again.
“I don’t need fixing,” I say eventually, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know you don’t,” he says, gently. “But if you ever need someone to hold things together… I’ve got two hands. All of your bruises and scars are what make you human. You don’t need fixing. But all of your broken edges… could fit into mine. You can trust me Camille.”
And just like that, I forget what’s on the tv, my food, the mess inside my head, the walls I swore I’d keep up. All I can feel is the warmth of him beside me and the way my heart won’t stop racing.
I feel myself falling, and I trust he will catch me. I still don’t trust myself to catch him back. I don’t know if I’m strong enough yet.
I look at him and go to say something, and lose that train of thought when I see how he’s looking at me. The flicker of the tv lights his face in this soft, dreamy glow, and when I see the way his eyes drop to my mouth, I stop breathing.
He leans in slowly. His lips brush against mine, tentative and warm, and it’s like something inside me exhales for the first time in years.
I know we’ve kissed so many times already today, but something about this kiss is caressing against the broken pieces inside of me.
Our pace picks up and we start to touch each other everywhere, needing to feel closer.
He pulls back a bit and looks at me, like he sees the real me, and likes it.A lot. I like him a lot too. I smile back at him unashamed. He puts his hand against my cheek and I lean into it, closing my eyes.
He moves his mouth against my ear and whispers. “Can I please have some of your taco?”
We both start to laugh.
“Depends which one?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.
He moves his hand to cup me between my thighs and I gasp. “This one.”
“Sure.” I nod. “If you were asking for some of my food, I would have said no.”
He lays me down on the couch and spreads my legs apart, putting himself between them.
He slowly pulls my underwear down my legs slowly, then looks at mebare before him. His eyes darken.
“Fuck. Cam. You have the prettiest pussy.” he says as he starts to play with me. Rubbing slow circles over my clit, then slips a finger inside.
I moan. He’ssogood at this.
I remember the first time he did it, how amazing it felt and my memory was definitely correct.
He slips another finger inside and hooks them up, pumping them in and out, while rubbing my clit.
I squirm underneath him, feeling close already.
“I could come just from watching you, the way you sound and the way you feel. It fucking does something to me Cam.” His words make me moan louder.
He brings his head down close to me, then replaces his finger over my clit with his tongue instead. The feeling is perfect.
