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"Yours. I'm yours, Cam."

"And I'm yours." I pressed my forehead to hers. My voice was shaking, and I let it. "Out loud. In daylight. In front of everyone. I'm yours, Harper. You hear me?"

She sobbed once. "I hear you."

"Look at me."

She opened her eyes.

"Come for me," I said. "Right now. Let me watch you."

I curled my fingers hard into that spot and pressed the heel of my hand against her clit and didn't let up. She came with my name breaking in half in her mouth, her eyes locked on mine the entire time, exactly like I'd told her. Her body bowed off the bed. Her wrists strained against my hand. And because her walls looked like they were pretty thin, and because I wanted every part of that sound for myself, I covered her mouth with mine and kissed her through all of it, swallowing every cry, every broken piece of my name, until she was shaking and gasping against my lips.

I didn't stop until she was finished. Then I gentled, slowly, and slid my fingers out of her, and let go of her wrists.

She was trembling all over. She was crying.

I gathered her up.

Not gently. I couldn't be gentle about it. I pulled her into my arms and held her against my chest tightly, my hand cradling the back of her head over the satin, my other arm locked around her back. She curled into me and shook and cried, and I held on like I was the only anchor keeping her from falling, because for the first time, I actually got to be.

"I've got you," I said into her bonnet, over and over. "I've got you. I've got you. You were so good. You were perfect. I've got you."

"Don't let go," she said into my neck.

"Never," I said. "I'm never letting go of you again."

When her breathing finally slowed, I reached over to her nightstand for the water glass she kept there and held it to her mouth myself, my hand behind her head, until she'd had half of it.

"How are you?" I asked. "Was any of it too much?"

She shook her head against me. "It was exactly enough." She laughed, wet and wobbly. "You were very mean."

"I was."

"I loved it."

"I know."

She tilted her head back and looked up at me, and her whole face was open. No caption ready. No armor anywhere.

"My turn," she said.

"Harper."

"I've been thinking about it for three weeks." She held my gaze. "Please. Let me."

I sat up against the headboard and pulled my henley over my head. Then I undid my jeans, slowly, while she watched me with her lips parted, and kicked them off along with everything else.

"Come here," I said.

She came.

"On your knees. Between my legs."

She settled there, her hands on my thighs, looking up at me.

"Hands on my thighs. They stay there," I said. "You use your mouth. I'll tell you what I want."