Page 95 of Challenge
“You need this surgery, Cam. That’s not me speaking as your doctor but as your friend. Regardless of whether or not you ever kick a ball again in your entire life, you’re going to want a properly operating knee.”
I shake my head angrily. “You think we’re mates? I can’t even trust you right now.”
“Of course you can,” she says urgently, looking up at me with wide, hurt eyes.
“Well, what am I supposed to think, Indie? I get here and find out about this publication right before I get wheeled into the place where you’re going to dice me up. My dad shows up and tells me all this stuff about my mum that makes me think ofyou, and I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet because I’m in this alone. I’m fucking lost and the only thing I know I want, I can’t have!”
“What is that?” she asks with a gasp.
“You! Bloody hell, I want you, Specs. After all this bullshit and stress and low after low, all I want is you. But you don’t want me.”
She makes a move to reply but I cut her off.
“Everybody is pulling strings and, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get away from them.”
“I’m not pulling strings, Cam. I care about you.” Her voice trembles.
“You care about the surgery.”
I move to slide off the table, but she holds me still again as she snaps, “Stop saying that!”
“Fine, let’s just get on with the surgery,” I mutter, feeling completely mind-fucked to my limit. “Maybe when I wake up I won’t remember any of this.”
“Camden—”
“Leave it. I mean it. This injury has fucked with so much more than my knee.”
“Damnit, Cam,” she growls and grabs my face so hard I feel every one of her fingertips pressed against my skin.
But the next thing I feel is not hard and biting.
It’s soft and supple.
It’s her lips on mine.
They stroke my mouth over and over, and the sensation is so perfect that I’m certain I am dreaming.
“What are you doing?” my voice quakes as our mouths break apart. Her face is centimetres from mine, yet I squeeze her arms in my hands, fearful they might disappear beneath my touch.
But the warmth of her laboured breath feels so real.
Staring at my lips, she whispers, “I’m finally juggling.”
Once again, I swear I am dreaming. Brown eyes crawl up my face and lock on mine. I tilt my head and pull away from her for better perspective. There’s no way she just kissed me in her OR. There’s no way she just repeated that pun she wrote inside my novel so long ago. My brain has to be messing with me, and this is all an illusion from the IV drug cocktail that nurse gave me.
She moves toward me again, and my eyes swim with desperation as I cup her face in my hands. “Don’t kiss me again, Indie.” My voice is thick and heavy. “Because I’m trembling from how badly I want you. And if I kiss you, I will lose my fucking mind.”
“So lose it with me,” she says simply, with all the confidence in the world. Then she whispers three words against my lips that make me come completely undone. “I am thine.”
Just before she touches her lips to mine, my eyes begin to sting, so I hold her away from me to stare at her one last time. The warmth of her cheeks against my palms confirms that she is real and this is happening.
Swallowing hard, I whisper back, “Thou art mine.”
No more words are needed. No more questions are asked. No more strings are pulled. Simply put, we create the most soul-crushing kiss of all time. We are two hearts connecting on another worldly plane manifesting in this physical act right here. All the anger and frustration between our communication issues comes to a head with the pure, undiluted honesty of lips, tongues, hands, and bodies.
I wrap my arms around her ribs and hug her tightly, pulling her as close to me as I can so I can feel every beat of her heart. But realisation of what we’re doing and where we’re doing it dawns on me much too quickly. I regrettably pull back. “What did you just do, Specs? You’re going to lose your job.”
“I don’t care.” She smiles with hooded eyes and moves to kiss me again.
