Bad Things

28. Belong

They had both still been out of breath, their bodies damp with sweat and each other. Shawn couldn't remember a time where he'd been so exhausted and so awake at the same time. Camila remained on top of him, breathing hard, their bodies still joined. Her arms lay draped over his shoulders and her face was buried in his neck. Shawn's legs ached from the position he was in—half kneeling, half sitting on the floor—but he didn't move, he didn't want to. It had been so long since she'd let him feel her this way, so God-damn long, and, to his embarrassment, it had shown. He'd almost felt like a virgin again, what with the short amount of time he'd lasted, but Lord, had it ever felt good. If he hadn't heard how she'd breathed his name and felt the way she shuddered above him as her nails dug into his shoulders, he would have thought he hadn't managed to satisfy her.

But even so ...

There was this nagging ache inside of him. He didn't know what it was or why it was there, but something was not right.

It was then he'd noticed that she was shaking and he could hear quiet, hiccuping gasps. Panic had flooded him immediately, and he'd wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted the other to her neck, cupping it gently and turning his face toward her.

"Baby?" he'd said, trying to pull her face out of the nook she'd created in the curve of his shoulder.

But she hadn't allowed him to move her. Instead, she'd shaken her head, tightened her grip around him, and sobbed harder. She was mumbling something, but Shawn couldn't make it out for the longest time, as she was crying it into his skin. Alarm peaked inside of him as a myriad of scenarios ran through his mind. Had he hurt her? Did she regret what they'd done? Had he just made everything worse by allowing her to sleep with him? He had asked her all of those things, but she'd just shaken her head harder and continued to cry. Shawn was at a loss, his mind racing and his heart pounding, and so he'd done the only thing he could think to do: he held onto her tighter as she fell apart in his arms.

Finally, after a few minutes, she'd turned her face slightly, and he could hear her strained, shaking whisper. The words she spoke broke him even more than he'd already been.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice stilted and rough. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm so scared. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

There were no words he could say to calm her, so he'd gathered her up and took her into his bed. She'd curled into him, her body still trembling, as his hands moved over her back and through her hair. He comforted her with his touch and his lips, pressing kisses to her forehead and temple, until her sobs turned to whimpers, and then her whimpers to sniffs. And within moments, she was asleep.

That had been over an hour ago, and Shawn hadn't moved.

Shawn glanced at where his fingers now hovered over the smooth curve of her shoulder. He wanted so badly to lower it and feel her against his skin, to know that she was really there and okay. He was desperate for that knowledge. But she was exhausted; he could tell she was by the dullness in her eyes when she'd first stepped through his door, and so he would let her sleep. No matter how much he wanted to know what had happened after they'd been together.

Reluctantly, he moved his hand back to the bed, settling it on the mattress between them. Just as his fingers touched the cool sheets, his phone started again. Shawn cursed to himself and pushed up out of the bed, pulling on his boxers on his way to the desk. He still didn't want to talk but knew if he didn't, Ben would keep calling.