“Two weeks.” His thumb drifted across her knuckles, sending all rational thought scattering. All she could focus on was him, how he touched her, how he looked at her.
Like she was the most precious wonder in his world.
“Will you come back?” She held her breath the second she asked the question, scared to hear his answer.
He paused, his gaze locking with hers. “Do you want me to come back?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Cam,” she murmured. “What do you want?” She refused to ask him to return to her.
Cameron needed to come to that conclusion on his own.
“I want to come back to you, Chloe.” He touched her face with his free hand, cupping her cheek. “If you’ll have me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cam had meant to say that he loved her. But like the chicken he was, he’d copped out at the last minute.
Why couldn’t he face her and say it?
The soft look in Chloe’s eyes told him he hadn’t screwed up, though. He was the luckiest man in the world. She’d accepted him into her home so easily when she could’ve told him to go to hell.
He would’ve deserved it.
She’d given him another chance. He’d hated telling her he was leaving but she’d been so encouraging. So…Chloe.
Closing his eyes, he drew her into his arms, crushing her to him, clinging to her as if she were his lifeline and he couldn’t survive without her. Which he supposed was true, since the idea of Chloe suddenly not being there sent panic sweeping through him.
“Cam,” she murmured against his chest. “I can’t breathe.”
“Neither can I,” he whispered, relaxing his grip on her but still keeping her close. “The last few days being without you, I could hardly breathe at all.” The ball of anxiety that had rested in the center of his chest slowly dissipated the longer she remained in his arms, the longer he inhaled the scent of her, the very essence of her.
He never wanted to let her go.
She melted against him, burrowed her face against his shirtfront and sighed, a sweet, sexy little sound that made his entire body stiffen with need. “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.
Swallowing hard, he smoothed his hand over her hair. He wanted her. She’d said she loved him, but had it been an admission in the heat of the moment?
Resolve filling him, he knew he needed to tell her how he felt. And he would. But not now. First, he needed to show her.
With little effort he picked her up, his hands gripping her backside as he deposited her on the tiled kitchen counter. She yelped when the back of her thighs hit the cold tile, her hands tightening on his shoulders as if she might slide off.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her expression incredulous.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Cam stepped into her and she spread her legs so he stood in between them, their faces level. Her warm, velvety gaze met his, full of light. She slid her hands so they clasped the back of his neck, her fingers moving into his hair and he closed his eyes, savoring her caress.
“You have the best hair,” she whispered as she ran her fingers through it again and again. “So soft and shiny.”
He didn’t want to talk about his hair. He didn’t want to talk about anything. A few hours remained before Mindy took him to Sacramento. Where he would get on a plane and fly clear across the country and leave this place far behind. Gone for two weeks from this very woman who had become his lifeline.
His everything.
Reaching in between them, he played with the zipper of her hoodie where it rested just above her breasts, intrigued by all the bare skin exposed. “What are you wearing under this?” He really hoped nothing.
“Unzip it and find out,” she said, a little breathless.
His gaze locked on the path of the zipper as he slowly drew it down, revealing that she wore his absolute favorite piece of clothing she owned—the thin white tank she’d worn that night, the one that had nearly done him in when he realized he could see right through it.
“I bet you were hoping I was naked.”