Seductive Shadows (25 page)

He nodded. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“But she didn’t give me an explanation. She slapped me, pushed me away, fucked man after man and allowed me to see it, to hear it. I never had a goodnight kiss, or a home cooked meal...she never whispered
I love you
or said it out loud. She blamed me for her failures instead, and for her pain.” I could hardly look at him. “And in the end, you got to hear her say she was sorry. You got an apology that should have been mine...and I got her fucking sweater.”

He was quiet as it sank in. “I’m really sorry for that, Charlie.”

I crumbled under his hands. My shoulders slouched into the pillows, my back slid backward onto the bed. I didn’t know if they were tears of anger or pain, but I couldn’t stop them regardless. And I couldn’t distinguish one feeling from the other anymore. I knew this wasn’t just about my father or Lilly or my job at the mansion, or how I was lying to everyone who cared about me. It was about all of that, together. I just didn’t know which among them was worst.

“Everyone leaves me, Dallas,” I whispered. “Everyone does. So, yes, you’re here now...but you’ll leave, too.” I sounded just like Lilly. I didn’t care.

“Haven’t I proven to you yet that I’m not going anywhere?”

“But you will.”

“Charlie…”

It wasn’t only that I’d sold my body. It was that I’d fucked Dallas and a client on the same night, that Cameron’s mouth had touched my lips the evening after Jay’s had been all over me. I could feel how horrid their responses would be when I told them this, how repulsed they would be by who I really was. How they would hate me for what I’d done. They would want to leave my life—both of them. And they weren’t the only ones who would have felt like this; Emma wouldn’t have accepted it, either. She would have been disgusted that I’d resorted to this, that I’d thrown myself into this world. That I’d been so ambivalent about leaving.

That I’d convinced myself it was actually something I needed.

But I was going to do the right thing. After I left the mansion, I was going to tell Cameron and Dallas the truth. And I
was
going to leave. I just needed to talk to the Doctor—to
my father
— before I did.
I want your commitment first,
he’d said
. Then we’ll talk about the next steps.
I wanted to know what those next steps were, and why they were necessary. Why I couldn’t just quit like Victoria had told me I could.

Dallas reached under the blanket and gripped my hands. “I need you to listen to me.” He paused, waiting for my attention to return to him. “I’m not going to leave you, Charlie.”

I believed him. For now.

I pushed my fingers into his palm and squeezed back.

I stepped into Cameron’s elevator and pushed the button to his apartment rather than his studio. My stomach tightened a little more as I rode past each floor. Why was I so nervous? We had been hanging out for several months now. He’d seen
Naked
, the painting I’d done of my unclothed body, and he’d drawn my portrait while I’d been barely wrapped in a sheet, my hands cupped over my bare breasts to cover my nipples. But this was going to be the first time that we were meeting in the space where he lived, not the one where he created; the atmosphere was bound to be more intimate than his studio, and art wasn’t on our agenda. Before I’d darted out of the gallery at the premiere the night before, he’d said he still wanted to do breakfast. He’d even offered to make it. I knew I probably should have canceled and not allowed myself to spend any more time with him until after I left the mansion and told him the truth. But I couldn’t stay away.

I wanted this.

As the elevator door unsealed, an industrial-style open floor plan filled my vision. It was a mirror image of his studio, which was directly on the other side of the elevator. Silver ventilation pipes ran across the ceiling; contemporary metal fans were woven between them, not only to cool the space but to provide additional light as well. The floors were covered in black hardwood that traveled up the spiraled staircase. The cabinets in the kitchen were surfaced to match. The couch and chairs were ultra-modern, upholstered in cream-colored fabrics; the tables were black shellac. Burnt orange was used in accents scattered throughout, and abstracts done in a similar palette and stainless steel sculptures adorned the walls. It was all so
Cameron
.

He greeted me and handed me a mug of coffee topped with just a splash of creamer that had been whipped to a froth. It was exactly how I made mine at home. Then he kissed my cheek. “Everyone is talking about you and your work.”

I felt myself blush. “I know I said this last night, but thank you again for being there.”

His hand lingered on my chin, and his eyes hovered over mine. As close as we were to each other, I could smell morning all over him: the soap on his hands, the toothpaste on his breath, the product he rubbed over his buzzed hair. I wanted to kiss him back, but I didn’t. My fingers wanted to reach for his chest and glide over the surface of his muscles. I didn’t do that, either...but I wasn’t sure how long I could keep fighting those urges.

While he moved into the kitchen to grab his coffee, I set my bag on the table by the elevator and stepped in farther. The view was the same as in his studio: windows floor to ceiling spanned the width of the wall, showing the skyline of the Back Bay. He used this backdrop to fuel some of his paintings, and he was able to admire it at night, too. I wondered if he woke up facing it as well.

My stomach wasn’t just tight; deep cramps had started to knead within, like they had the night before. It wasn’t just the urges I was fighting; I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my personal life separate from the shadows. I needed Cameron to know who I was. I needed him to know about all of me.

I felt him behind me, and I turned to face him. “Can we talk?”

He moved to the couch and took a seat. I followed, inhaling more of the scents that were left in his wake: fresh laundry, citrus, and a dash of musk. My mouth began to water; I wanted to taste the smells on his body. There were too many clothes separating us from each other. 

“I met my father last night.” I stopped to gauge his reaction as his mouth opened in shock. He remembered the conversation we’d had about Lilly during one of our sessions, and the childhood I had described to him. He’d never spoken about his own, his scars remaining a secret known only to him. But he had accepted everything I told him about my mother. Never once had I found judgment in his eyes. “I don’t know if he wants to be a part of my life, or if I even want him to. But I have a lot of questions for him, and a lot of issues to work through.”

He jumped right in as I finished. “I don’t want you to be hurt by him, Charlie...or by anyone, for that matter. Make sure you move at your pace, and not his. Feel him out before you take the next step.”

I couldn’t wait any longer.

“I really like you, Cameron.” I stopped myself before the other words came out. They threatened to break free...but I wouldn’t let them. Not yet. I couldn’t reveal the truth before I stopped working at the mansion. I couldn’t risk the damage it would do to what we had.

He rested his arm across the back cushion and turned his body toward me, bridging our gap a little. “I think you already know how I feel, and where I want this to go.”

I knew the way his hands teased my shoulder was foreplay. He was speaking to me through his fingertips; they stroked my skin with a touch that was more gentle, more caressing than I’d ever known. I knew where we were heading by the way his breath hit my face, the way his stare covered all of me in a one-second sweep. Still, I had to be certain.

“Do we want the same thing?” I asked.

His eyes and his smile both gave me the answer I wanted. “Yes.” His tone was so low, so honest. “We want the same thing, Charlie.”

“Then...” I held my breath for a second, “...I hope this doesn’t ruin things, but I need some time.” I dragged my stare away from his chest, from his hands and his lips, and moved it back to his eyes. “Just a little bit, to straighten out some things. With my dad...with my life.”

“I understand.”

Would he say the same once I quit the mansion and told him the truth?

My hands began to shake. I reached toward the coffee table and took a sip from my mug. “Things are messy right now—or
messier
, actually. I’m struggling with it all.” I leaned back into the couch and avoided his eyes. “My past is...complicated, Cameron. There’s so much I haven’t told you.”

“Hey,” he said. His fingers reached over and moved my chin to face him. “I’m not here to judge your past. We’ve all experienced things that have shaped our lives; whether they were good or bad, we have to own them. Trust me, I’m no exception. I told you Northeastern was my home, but I’ve never told you why. I think it’s time.”

Was he finally going to tell me about his scars?

“I don’t normally talk about this,” he said.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do, though. More than that, I want to.” He breathed deeply. “My childhood was a lot like yours, only my dad was in jail and my mother was a junkie. My brother and I bounced around a lot, between the apartments she lived in and the foster homes we ended up in. None of them were actually
homes,
though...and we were never truly safe in any of them.”

There was so much pain in his eyes, so much hurt that wanted to pour out of him. But he stayed strong. I wasn’t sure if it was for my sake, or for his.

“Things happened in those places...unimaginable things,” he said. “Physical, emotional...verbal.” He halted. “And sexual.”

I pulled his hand into my lap, covering each of his fingers with mine.

“You’ve seen some of the scars on my chest, and the scars on my hands. Those people hurt me. They hurt me with whatever they could find, whatever was within their reach.”

We had more in common than I thought.

He took a deep breath. “As soon as I was old enough to get away from those fucking bastards, I found a new home, a place where I wanted to be. That was Northeastern. Eventually, I was able to get my brother out of it, too.” He smiled. “You’d like him, Charlie. We’re very similar. He creates with poetry instead of paint.”

I lifted his hand. “I’m sorry for what you went through, Cameron.” I rubbed the marks from his knuckles and fingers across my cheek. “These don’t scare me.”

“They should.”

“They don’t; I accept them—all of them. I accept your past. Nothing you can say will change that.” I traced his scars with my fingertips. “I have darkness of my own. Plenty of it.”

He nodded. “I feel it in your work.”

“One day soon,” I said, bringing his hand down to my lap again, “I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll tell you everything.”

“I’ll accept it. Whatever it is, I’ll accept it.”

I felt as though the air had been sucked out of my body. I wanted so much to believe this, to know his words were true.

The shadows might have known better.

I shook my head. “Don’t say that.”

“I want you.”

It happened so quickly I didn’t have time to think, to prepare. Or to stop him. His lips were suddenly on mine, his palms on my cheeks pulling me into him. I tasted the essence of coffee and the mint that was underneath. I melted under him as his tongue slowly poked in and out of my mouth, sensuously caressing my tongue, triggering thoughts of what it would feel like against my clit. His hands moved to the sides of my stomach, gradually sliding up until his thumbs were spreading space between my skin and the underwire of my bra. Everything inside me started to scream. And the voice was loud, demanding. Hungry.

As much as I wanted this for me, I couldn’t do this to him. He deserved all of me, but he deserved the truth first.

When I pulled away, his fingers clenched my ribs, yanking me against him. I pressed my forehead into his chest and listened to the sounds of his breathing. He was winded, and so was I.

“I want this. More than anything,” I said. “But I can’t…not yet.”

His fingers lightened on my skin. “OK then. We’ll wait.”

I drew my face away from his chest so he could read my expression. “Just for now, though.”

I had never been in a position like this before, where I had to control my wants and my urges. Where I actually had to stop myself from ripping off a man’s clothes because I was concerned about his feelings and the implications our actions posed for our future.

His baby blue vision stared back at me, and the guilt returned. It was so very strong.

What the fuck had I done by ever having agreed to work at the mansion? Was there even a chance that he’d really want me once he knew I’d been with so many others?

How would he be able to respect me when I hadn’t even respected myself?

“I have something I want to show you,” he said.

His hand pulled me to my feet, and I moved behind him. With his fingers still intertwined with mine, I tried to slow my breath...and I tried to still the thoughts that ricocheted between how much pleasure those fingers would be able to give me and how much disgust he would feel for me when he finally knew the truth. Would I be nothing to him but another source of pain, a scar that marked his soul instead of his body?

I wondered how it would feel when he left me...

“I thought you’d be perfect right here,” he said, “the first thing I see when I wake up.”

I hadn’t noticed that we’d stopped walking, that we had entered his bedroom...that a low, wooden, platform king-size bed sat just to our right. The comforter was black satin, with orange pillows decorating the top. A flat screen was mounted across from the bed, and on the other walls were some of his pieces...and one of mine.

Naked
hung in the corner of his room, casting its gaze over the loveseat and ottoman. There I was, in fetal position...on my bed in the mansion. My face was pressed into the mattress, my hair splayed around my cheeks so no one would know it was me. But Cameron knew.

“I didn’t want anyone else to have it,” he said.