Broken Walls

12. Mercy

If this world is wearing thin
And you're thinking of escape
I'll go anywhere with you
Just wrap me up in chains
But if you try to go alone
Don't think I'll understand
Stay with me

- Shakespear's Sister.

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A low, distant rumbling disrupted the silence of the night. The rain had slowed to a mere drizzle, but lightning still illuminated the sky in quick flashes. The last sprinkles dotted the window, and the tiny, clear pebbles obscured any view to the street below. Not that anyone was looking, anyway.

Shawn sat, his head bowed, at the edge of the bed, the covers twisted and untucked from the end of the mattress. His hands trembled against his thighs. He clenched and unclenched his fists, but that only made it worse.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes fell on Camila's sleeping form, the sheet draped loosely over her body, her bare hip peeking from beneath. He had the undeniable urge to run his hand over it, feeling the silky softness under his fingers once more. Her face looked peaceful and untroubled—the exact opposite of how he felt. Shawn wished he could lie back down beside her and let sleep claim him too. But he couldn't stop his damn hands from shaking.

He closed his eyes and turned back around just as another flash of light brightened the room, highlighting the outlines of its contents briefly before flickering back to black. It wasn't the norm for him to let girls stay over. In fact, Shawn couldn't remember a single time he had, or that he had stayed with any of them. Usually, he was the "love 'em and leave 'em" type. Not that any of the girls complained. This was spelled out ahead of time, and taken as a given. But with Camila, nothing had happened in the way he would have expected. Being with her had been unlike anything he had ever experienced. The way she'd moved over him, touched him, kissed him, was just so much ... more.

When it was over, she'd collapsed into him, her body limp and shaking. They hadn't spoken—there was nothing to say. He'd just held her, waiting until both of their breathing settled and their hearts calmed. Camila had kept her arms draped around him and turned her face into the crook of his neck, her warm breath fanning over his skin. Never before had Shawn wanted to hold a girl afterward. Never had he wanted to touch his lips to her head and breathe her in. But with Camila ...

God, what had he done? He'd promised himself, and everyone else, he wouldn't let something like this happen, yet, there he was. How could he do this to the case? To her? Why couldn't he resist her? Why did his body burn with a single touch of her hand? Why hadn't the need for her lessened? In the past, it had only taken one time. One night, and all the lust and longing disappeared. But not this time. This time, it had only grown.

Shawn didn't understand the feelings festering inside him, nor the things he'd felt hours before when he'd allowed her complete control over him. And he had allowed it—not something he ever did. He liked being the one in control. Liked seeing the way he could make a woman fall apart at his hand. And he had, many times over. But last night, he'd given Camila free reign over him. She'd known what she wanted, and he'd let her have it, wanted her to have it.