As she stood in the middle of Klaus' room, Cami got cold feet. The longer she waited, the more freezing they got.
This had seemed like a good idea before. The noise of people going past her room had woken Hope, and it had taken Cami a while to get the fussy baby back to sleep. She had made the decision to vacate the nursery and wait here.
She hadn't changed her mind about Klaus. She wanted him. She'd tried to deny it, tried to be sensible, but it was no use. Her heart had whispered from the very beginning that it was worth any risk, that he could be the love of her life if he'd only let her love him. And now, finally, he was letting her in.
But even though she'd been here before, when Elijah had asked her to take care of him, she felt weirdly uncomfortable in Klaus' private domain. It was hardly subtle, waiting in his bedroom like this. They hadn't even kissed, for crying out loud.
To take her mind off the tension of waiting, she moved over to the easel. On it was a canvas with a half-finished painting of a cityscape, much like the one that hung in the nursery. An odd choice for a baby's room, she'd thought, but clearly it meant something to Klaus. Like in that one, this new painting featured a huge luminous moon that drew the eye and held the observer's attention.
As she was admiring the boldness of the brushstrokes, the door flew open, crashing against the wall behind it and rattling the windowpanes. Klaus kicked it shut behind himself and advanced into the room, attempting to yank his tie loose and swearing at it when the knot refused to budge.
He stopped short when he caught sight of her. It would have been funny, seeing him standing there with a look of shock on his face, still pulling on his tie, if she hadn't felt so damned awkward.
All she could think of to say was, "Hi."
He didn't respond for what seemed like an eternity. Then, "I thought you'd left."
"No," she said. "I didn't."
Brilliant.
"I know you told me to wait in the nursery, but…"
She was lost for words when Klaus strode towards her, his eyes glittering. His face was so grim that she feared he might be angry with her. But when he stopped in front of her, he released a ragged breath, cupped her face in his hands and said her name as if it were a precious gift. A thrill skittered down her spine and she closed her eyes. Heavenly, his touch was, so soft and yet powerful enough to make her sigh.
And then he finally—finally—touched his lips to hers, and she stopped breathing altogether.
He forgot all his self-restraint in that instant and kissed her with all the longing pent up over these last long months. Her lush mouth was warm and unbelievably soft beneath his, and when she parted her lips, he crushed her to him and leaned her back so he could deepen the kiss.
They moved together, their hands exploring each other's body, their tongues entwined, until he broke the kiss to move his lips along her chin and down her throat, making her whimper.
Ironically, it was the steady pulse beating just under her soft skin that awakened his appetite yet brought him back from the brink of madness.
That beat into his skull the reasons he'd kept her at arm's length all this time.
Gently, he pulled away from her. "Perhaps we should stop."
She smiled up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "You've got to be kidding."
"Now. While we still can."
"I know that being a thousand years old entitles you to be a little old-fashioned," she said, her smile broadening, "but I know you're not that much of a prude."
"If I allowed anything to happen to you, I don't think I could bear it." Klaus grabbed her by the arms, perhaps a little harder than necessary, but he had to make her see reason. "We have to end this before it begins. Before it's too late."
She surprised him by leaning in and nuzzling her face against his jaw. "You idiot, it's already too late. If it weren't, I would have walked away a long time ago. Lord knows I would never have chosen to fall in love with a pain in the ass like you."
For a second, he was lost in the sweet sensation of her closeness. The simple intimacy of the moment.
Then he realized just what she'd said.
He'd never met a woman quite like her in a thousand years of living, and he doubted he'd meet one like her ever again.
With a will of their own, his arms wrapped around her tightly, and he just held her quietly. "I don't know how to do any of this," he whispered finally.
"This?"
He ran his hand up the curve of her spine, savoring the feel of her against his body. "Us."
"We'll work it out," she murmured with her lips against his neck. "Together."
"I don't want to disappoint you."
She began to plant tiny kisses along his jaw. "Then don't do anything stupid."
He took her face in his hands to place a tiny kiss of his own on her nose. "I'm going to worry about you every second of every day. I'll never stop worrying about you."
"Maybe just take a break for tonight. Because right now, I'm fine." She went back to work, her mouth tracing a line to his earlobe. "More than fine."
"You deserve—"
"Oh, shut up already. Just tell me how you feel."
"Well, I can hardly do both at the same—"
She leaned back and glared at him. "If the next words out of your mouth are not 'I adore you. I need you desperately. Please stay with me,' I am going to knee you where it'll hurt the most."
He raised his eyebrows at this, but brushed the hair from her face at the same time and then stroked her cheek. "I do adore you. I do need you desperately. I love you, Camille O'Connell." With a long sigh, he looked into her soft, loving eyes. "Please stay with me."
"I'll take it under consideration," she said just before he swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed.