AMELIA

"Cameron..."

I don't know why I call his name. Now he's laughing, joining me under the duvet, his tongue exquisitely rolling against the wall of his mouth.

"What, Princess?" He drawls.

His arm envelops me, pulling me close to him, all spurring mortification within me, and it isn't even all; the weight of his other hand drops over my stomach, and he says after sighing relievingly, "I can't kiss you, I guess."

I don't know if it's the drug I just took or if it is Cam, but I'm a bit dizzy; the tiniest cognition I have left is focused on his hand slipping under my top and now drawing circles around my abdomen.

"And I so much want to." His voice is a whispery groan above my hair.

I peer up at him. "You can-" I begin but shudder, my eyes narrowing at the pinching sensation at my nipple with the hand embracing me.

Amused, his brows rise at me. "I can?" He taunted, his fingers adding more pressure to my nipple, my breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding.

I bury my head against his bare chest, unable to speak, completely paralyzed by the addition of his scent in all of this.

"Look at me," he casually orders and doesn't wait for me to do so. With one hand, he effortlessly shifts my immobile body to align our heads, meeting him eye to eye.

His hand glides over my abdomen, smoothly slipping beneath the waistband of my bottom and the waistband of my panties. My panting increases before I feel his finger tap my wetness, and my body reacts in maximum craziness. He does it a couple of times until I'm out of breath, clinging to him.

Cam smirks, but it's his lips my eyes are focused on, having me drowsy, and his finger starts rubbing my clit in a way my entire body trembles wildly. "You are fucking warm." His lips expel warm blows onto my face.

Screw the surgery. "Kiss me, please," I beg.

"You-"

"Cam, I am fucking sure. Just kiss me," I moan, pressing my lips impatiently against his, delighting in the silky sweetness they offer. I feel his fingers slide into my opening; I feel a lot of things. All indescribable bliss that I wish never to end. His naked body against mine, strong grips on my breasts, my nipple between his teeth, his hair between my fingers, my unsilenced cries from the surging pleasure pulsating and throbbing in every fiber of my being, his temperate but sensual groan in my ear, his tongue tapping mine, his warm tongue in the hole of my ear, my fingers cutting into his skin for blood, his cock thrusting into me repeatedly, my waist rolling along, and a burst of euphoria, that for a moment I am in heaven. Before weakness pours upon me and my body slackens, tangled around his while his restless breath begins to calm down.

***

"Cam? If you're not asleep, do you want to talk?" I ask in the dark and quiet room.

My eyes are closed as I lay on my back, my head on the soft pillow. Cam is resting his head on my stomach, and the weight feels soothing in my core, my fingers reluctantly combing through the texture of his hair.

"What do you want to talk about?" He mumbles in a subdued voice.

Curiously, as a lot has been on my mind, I ask, "Like where have you been in the past weeks?"

"With Serenity, training," he answers with less energy, clearly sleepy. But we need to talk. We didn't get to do much of it after everything that's happened.

"She said she didn't see you like a hundred times that I went to the gym or called there," I point out, for I had gone there almost every day until I felt like it was useless, and I despaired.

"I told her to say that. Don't be mad at her or any of the guys. They hated the idea too," he hushes, having me getting annoyed because now I knew I looked like a fool going there and asking about him when he was right there hiding from me.

"So you knew I was coming and calling?"

"Yeah!"

Okay! Now I feel stupid.

"How nice," I remark, letting go of his hair and spinning to my side. He gets up at my wordless dismissal and adjusts to my height, resting his head on my pillow.

"Amy, I have to keep my distance," he starts behind me, and I twist, confronting his face an inch away from mine in the dim room.

"I know, it's just not a good feeling," I retort, and he leans in, kissing my forehead.

"I was at a point where I just wanted to blank out, and I could hurt anyone around me. Amy, I don't want to hurt you, ever," he breathes, looking into my eyes. "So, for you, I couldn't leave for Harper. I know you wouldn't want me self-sabotaging. It would hurt you. I just can't be the reason for your hurting. You have no idea how hard it has been for me every time you had to worry about my relationship with Harper. I wish I could tell you. Harper insisted too. I just suck sometimes," he smiles, but it's nothing to do with joy.

My hand can't help it; I reach for his face, wanting to ease his pain.

"Does Harper know about Mrs. Clarke?" I ask gently.

"No," he swallows, taking in another deep breath. "I only found out about her and my dad while Mom's trial started. Harper wasn't allowed to come; no one knew she was a witness. So she didn't meet Mom ever since the day it happened," he explains, and something itches my heart.

"She said she was also there the day-" I choke on my emotions. I couldn't say it. I couldn't voice out that he had to kill his father because he shouldn't have to. He was a child. I can't imagine the trauma he went through-He still goes through. Perhaps that's why he goes to therapy. Something I didn't know until after I lost him in the past weeks.

I know he suffers, and I wish I could do something to help him. It hurts so bad.

"Yeah," he nods, understanding what I mean. "Aunty Grace was with my dad when he left to catch up with Mom after she found out about them. So Aunty Grace has followed him too without him knowing, I guess, and she came into the mess of our home right after everything had happened. My dad was laying there, dead," he says it so normally, like he was discussing his day. How is this legal or fair? "Mom begged her to take Harper with her, and of course, she did. She called the cops on my mom then. Since it's a mom, everyone will believe had done the damage." He swallows again, releasing his breath shakily.

"Wow," I'm speechless. "I can't believe she's that bad," and there I was, back in time when I used to think the Clarkes were nice people.

"I mean, the cops were coming somehow, and everyone will know," he remarks. "However, she came back for me after Mom was taken, and she cooked for me. The child support came, and she handed me over to them. Heard she cleaned the house, and the blood there after the investigation was done. At some times during the trial, she'd hold me. A little support until she understood my mom had told me about her and my father. Because Mom wanted me to be careful."

It dawns on me, the video I watched, and I curiously question, "Was she the woman in the video that took you from the reporters?"

"What?" Cam questions, confusedly, with narrowed eyes.

"There is a video of you on the internet when you were little, after the court appearance, and you were crowded by reporters asking questions, and this woman, there wasn't a clear view of her face, but she came over and told them to let you be," I elaborate, and he thoughtfully stares at me.

"I guess she's the one. She was there for me for a while," he says.

"What about Harper? She wasn't mentioned in the news." They only talked about the Reynolds family's only son.