Lily
Lily told herself that laughing at Cam didn’t mean anything. It was a momentary lapse. A human reaction to Cam Fowler saying something unexpectedly perceptive and annoyingly accurate. That was all.
She absolutely did not keep replaying that moment in her head as the dinner dragged on.
The problem was that once the line had been crossed—once she’d laughed, really laughed—it was harder to retreat behind professionalism. Cam stayed exactly where he was. Close enough to feel. Far enough not to touch. Like he understood the line she was trying to hold and was deliberately toeing it.
When the last plate was cleared and the executives began drifting toward after-dinner drinks, Lily stood. “I should go.”
Cam rose too, smooth and unhurried. “I’ll walk you.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“We’re staying in the same hotel. On the same floor.”
She hesitated, then nodded once. Fine. A walk. That was safe.
Outside, the air was cool and salt-edged, the sound of the sea faint beyond the circuit. Their footsteps echoed on the pavement, the quiet stretching between them in a way that felt heavier than silence should be.
“You were good today,” Cam said. “I watched.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. You’re—” He stopped himself, exhaled. “I really think you’re going to win this thing.”
Her chest tightened. “I can’t think like that. I can only focus on this weekend.”
“I know. But you’re getting it anyway.”
She glanced at him despite herself. His expression was open, unguarded. Not Cam Fowler, confident driver. Just a man who believed in her. That was the scary part.
They reached the hotel and walked inside, then took the elevator up to the seventh floor. The light in the hall was a bit harsh, making it easier to pretend this was something ordinary.
“This is where I say good-night.” Lily stopped in front of her room. She was far too aware that her bed was on the other side of that door.
Cam nodded. “Good night.”
Neither of them moved. She felt it then—the hum under her skin, the pull she’d been pretending she could outdrive. His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered.
“Don’t,” she said quietly.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking very loudly.”
That got a faint smile. “Sorry.”
She should have turned away. Should have walked inside and locked herself in her room and counted down the hours until morning. The problem was his smile. His heartbreaking, irresistible smile. She stepped closer.
Cam inhaled sharply. His hand lifted, hesitated, then settled at her waist like a question.
What the hell. Lily went for it—pressed her lips against his. Not cautious. Not polite. Her driving style embodied in a kiss. It was everything she’d been denying—impossible to mistake for nothing. His mouth curved into hers like it had been waiting. Like he knew exactly how to meet her without taking more than she offered.
She took a sharp inhale and pulled back. Her pulse was roaring. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” His response came too fast. Like he’d already decided to accept it.
“I shouldn’t have done that. It’s too complicated.”
“Us?”
“Yes.”
They stood there for another breath, suspended. Then Lily forced herself to turn and unlock her door before he could say her name. Inside, she pressed her forehead to the door and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d crossed the line. Again. And worse—she wasn’t sure she wanted to uncross it.
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