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Cameron was visibly stunned by my confession. “Why did you fuck up?”
The fact that she wanted to know filled me with hope. “Tomorrow. For now, sleep. Don’t be stubborn,” I teased, “For once in your life.”
She made a face and slumped against the pillows. “Fine.”
“Sleep well. I’ll be right next door.”
Yet I’d barely made it to the doorway when she called out shakily, “I don’t suppose …”
When I glanced back at her, she couldn’t meet my gaze. Her jaw was clenched in frustration. And something else.
Only a few hours ago, some maniac had broken into her bedroom with a hunting knife.
“You know, I’m exhausted. Would you mind if I just kipped in here with you?”
Her eyes flared and she shrugged. “No, that’s fine.”
I hid my smirk at her inability to acknowledge that’s exactly what she needed.
“Let me go downstairs and lock up.”
I did just that and then I left Quinn a voicemail explaining everything.
Upon my return to the bedroom, I discovered Cameron was under the duvet with the covers pulled up to her chin, the fabric bunched tightly in her fists. Aching sympathy mingled with wrath flared across my chest. I closed the door and then I lifted the heavy armchair I had in the room with a grunt of exertion before dropping it with a thud in front of the door.
A quick glance at the bed revealed Cameron’s expression softening, her fingers unclenching.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
My stomach churned at the idea of her being afraid, but I nodded before I whipped off my shirt to pull on a clean one to sleep in.
“Is that a new tattoo?”
I tensed, having forgotten about the tattoo on my chest. Pretending nonchalance, I pulled the fresh T-shirt on and climbed into the bed with her. “My back tattoo?”
When I was in my mid-twenties, I’d had a tattoo designed that was shaped like a human heart but had a wrench, spanner, and odometer in place of the main chambers. It had been added to over the years, cogs and machinery interspersed with thistles and song lyrics. Some of the tattoo wound round my ribs and down my left side. I also had Celtic artwork tattooed around my collarbone, creeping up onto my neck. But the tattoo over my heart was something I had added while Cameron was traveling.
“No, on your—”
“Sleep, babe,” I cut her off, sliding down into my pillows and onto my side. “I’m not going to sleep until you drift off.”
She turned her head to look at me, her gaze searching. “You keep calling me babe and baby.” There was a question there.
“Tomorrow. Babe.” I winked because I knew it would irritate her, and I’d rather see Cameron irritated that fearful.
Sure enough, she groaned in annoyance and flipped onto her side, giving me her back.
Her long hair was tangled from the events of the evening. I reached out tentatively and gently rubbed a strand between my finger and thumb. Cameron didn’t seem to notice. For some strange reason, I didn’t want to let go of that strand of hair.
I kept my word. Even though my eyelids tried to drag themselves shut, I didn’t let myself drift off until I heard her soft breathing relax into sleep. The last thing I felt was the silk of blond hair between my fingertips.
23. Cameron
Athrobbing in my foot woke me up.
When I realized I wasn’t in my own bed, my first thought was panic as I sat up, searching the room frantically.
It didn’t take long for the memories to flood back in, for me to remember why my foot hurt and why I was in Forde Dallas’s bedroom.
