Page 85 of Gamebreaker

"You're hilarious, Harper DuBose."

"One more time, I didn't quite catch—"

Cam pressed a kiss to my forehead. Just a soft press of lips against skin. Gentle. Tender. The kind of casual affection that shouldn't have meant anything, but somehow meant everything.

I froze.

Because that simple gesture, that easy, unthinking show of affection—broke something in me.

Not in a bad way.

Just in a way that made me realize how desperately I wanted this. How much I wanted someone who would kiss my forehead in a kitchen, who would listen to my trauma and not make it about themselves, who would tell me I deserved better and mean it.

How much I wanted her.

I pulled back, looked up at her. She was so close. Her amber eyes were dark, focused on me. It that made me feel like I was the only person in the world.

"Cam," I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to do something incredibly stupid."

"How stupid?"

"Catastrophically stupid."

"Should I stop you?" she asked, confused.

"Probably."

"Am I going to?"

"I hope not."

I rose up on my toes and kissed her.

Soft. Gentle. Nothing like the desperate makeout session I'd been fantasizing about. Just a sweet press of lips, a question asked with my mouth against hers, a moment of tenderness that felt more intimate than anything we'd done.

Cam went perfectly still. She didn't pull away, but she didn't kiss me back either.

I pulled back slightly, suddenly terrified I'd misread everything. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

She suddenly caged me in, hands gripping the counter on either side of me, knuckles going white. "Can I kiss you back?" Cam's tone was uneven, strained, barely controlled. "Please tell me I can kiss you back."

Oh.

Oh.

"Please," I breathed. "Please, Cam."

She shattered.

There was no other word for it. Whatever control she'd been holding onto for three weeks exploded completely. Her mouth crashed against mine, kissing me like she was trying to consume me, like she'd been starving and I was the first meal she'd seen in weeks, like she'd been holding back a tidal wave with her bare hands and I'd just given her permission to let it destroy us both.

Her hands were in my hair, gripping, tilting my head back so she could kiss me deeper. Her tongue slid against mine with ruinous skill, and I moaned into her mouth, the sound swallowed.

I grabbed her shoulders, pulling her closer, but she was already moving. Her body pressed against mine, pinning me to the counter with her hips, and I could feel her everywhere. Her chest against mine, one of her thighs between my legs, her hands sliding from my hair down my neck, my sides, gripping my waist through my shirt like she was trying to memorize the shape of me.