I feel as if I have been slapped. The pain from that one word shoots through me, and I recoil away from him, wondering what the hell I’ve done wrong.
“Caleb…” My voice fades, because what can I actually say at this point? I know I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve barely spoken to him in the last week for fuck’s sake, so why am I stood here feeling bad?
“You can’t touch me, Cameron,” he says, his voice low. He moves, turning until he’s facing me, and the light glowing from the gardens down below highlights the side of his face. I can see that he’s looking at me, his eyes intense, and it makes my heart speed up a notch.
“What? Why?” I whisper.
“Because if you touch me, I won’t be able to control myself,” he says, before he turns to the other set of floor-to-ceiling windows and gives me his back once again.
My heart feels like it’s jumped into my throat, and I struggle to think clearly.
“Caleb, what are you talking about?” I ask, even though I feel like it’s a stupid question to ask, but it’s the only one I can think of right now.
“I think you should go. I’ll come and speak to the client in a minute,” he says, taking another sip of his drink and thinking he’s shutting this conversation down.
“Like hell am I leaving until you tell me what is going on here,” I say loudly, assertively, demandingly.
“You do not want to open this can of worms with me, Cameron,” he says, and I move forwards, until I’m standing next to him, just a few feet away.
“I think I do,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “So?”
I wait, and then I wait some more as he continues to watch the people below us in the garden as they go about their conversations, unaware that there is about to be some kind of life changing altercation up here—I can feel it. I can feel that whatever is about to happen is going to change things irrevocably.
“I’m fucking waiting, Caleb,” I say, trying to rein in the temper that wants to take over and urge him to speak to me.
“Just go, Cameron.”
“No.”
“No good can come from us discussing anything right now.”
“Try me.” I’m not backing down. No way.
He finally turns to face me and drains the last of his drink before hanging his arm limply by his side, the glass held in his fingertips.
I feel my frustration getting the better of me as I throw my hands in the air and shout, “For God’s sake, Caleb, what is the matter with you?”
And my words are like the catalyst for him.
“You really want to know? You really want to know why I can’t have you touching me? Or why I can’t fucking think properly when you’re near me? Or why it almost drove me fucking insane seeing those guys down there talking to you, flirting with you, touching you?” he says loudly, taking a few steps towards me, sliding the glass onto his desk as he does, but I refuse to back away. I want answers, and I want them right now.
“Yes,” I say back to him, making my voice loud and hiding everything I’m feeling by masking it with stubbornness.
“Because I fucking want you. I never stopped, and it is taking all my fucking willpower not to take you and make you mine all over again,” he rages, as he stops just in front of me. My head is tilted back slightly so I don’t lose eye contact, and my heart is threatening to beat from my chest from his words.
“That is why you cannot fucking touch me, Cameron, because I can no longer control myself around you.”
His chest is heaving, as is mine, and then I forget about all of the reasons why we shouldn’t be together. I forget about the obstacles in our way. I forget about every fucking thing as I push my chest against his and lock my hands behind his neck, bringing his head down until his lips are touching mine and devouring me the way I’ve dreamed about for years.
I’m pushed against the window, and thank God for the slit in this dress, which allows me to lift my legs and wrap them around his waist.
We’re like two animals that have been starved.
We’re like two kindred spirits coming back together as one.
I’ve waited so fucking long for this moment, and until he walked back into my life a few weeks ago, I never allowed myself to believe it could happen, but it is, here and now, I’m right where I should be.
His mouth leaves mine as his lips move to my neck, his fingers digging into my arse as he holds me up. I claw at his shoulders, needing more. I unwrap my legs from around him and place them back on the ground, and then he turns me, so I’m looking out of the window. My palms slap against the surface, and his mouth traces along my shoulder.