Wicked in Love

Chapter 24 - anything

3 chapters posted today. Chapters 23, 24, 25. You are reading chapter 24.

Kara

"What would you like to know, Kara?" He took a step closer. "That I can't stop thinking about you? That I haven't stopped wanting the fuck out of you everyday? Right now, I can't stop thinking about what you look like under that dress."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Kara!" Dylan yelled as he made a ruckus at the front door. "I saw your car out front. You here?"

I stepped away quickly from Cameron, feeling like I was caught doing something I shouldn't be doing.

Then why do you feel excited?

His eyes studied me. He didn't move.

"Yes!" I croaked. "I'm here."

"Trip went on a trip. Now Trip's back from his trip," Dylan sang, dissolving in giggles at his own words, still unaware that I wasn't alone in the house. "I saw him downtown. He heard about the fire and wanted to know if you're okay." There was a loud thud as his shoes and backpack hit the floor. "He followed us home and he—"

"You better set your stinking shoes outside the door," I warned, not really absorbing everything he was saying, "or your ability to sire children will be no more."

"—should be here soon. Don't you check your phone?" I heard the door open as he threw his shoes outside. "I called you ten thousand times!"

There was a loud zip as he opened his backpack, sounds of rustling and more thudding as he emptied a lot of it out to search for something. "Thomas picked me up today so I didn't have to take the bus. Remember I told you after the accident I couldn't really drive by myself anymore? Well, um, I can tell you now because I've gotten so much better!" Another zip, but this time I could hear the struggle as he tried to close it. "Thomas has been helping me get used to driving again. We're supposed to—"

Dylan stopped as soon as he spotted Cameron. There was a look of misery in my brother's eyes before he lowered and turned his head away. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

My heart ached watching them. Their interactions had been stilted. One of these days I had to sit Dylan down for a heart to heart. There had been no time for that too.

"Hey, Dylan," Cameron said. He reached for the glass in my hand, filled it with cold water from the fridge, and gave it to me. "Drink."

I glared at him. I still didn't like being told what to do. In response, he gently guided my hand up so that the glass touched my lips. I drank.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Having him in front of me, taking caring of me once again, knowing my habits and what to do to make me respond, what to ask... felt painful.

"Don't worry about it," I said defensively. "I already ate."

He looked at me dubiously. It had been a very busy day. Only when he asked me did I remember I hadn't eaten or drank anything all day but coffee.

There was a fire forming and rising inside my heart, but every time I tried to unleash it, it buried itself even deeper, became even bigger. I found myself reacting differently, thinking differently, or not thinking at all. And I knew why.

After the night of the fire, I put my feelings on pause. I hadn't had time to process my thoughts and emotions. Everything kept piling up on top, including the myriad of conflicting feelings I felt today when I was alone with him.