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“This isn’t a punishment. It’s an experiment. I watched your parents’ club save lives, and I’m hoping this one will save yours. “One year. That’s all I ask. After the year is up, you can do what you want. “I’m begging you to give it a shot. “Find your family, and make this your home.
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I won’t settle for a life of contentment with someone else just to have a partner. I want fireworks and magic. I want to stare into someone’s eyes and feel seen. I want to find a soul that matches mine.
“Je suis désolée. J’ai commencé à faire à manger, nous nous amusions beaucoup, et je n’ai pas fait attention. Je suis une très bonne cuisinière en principe, et…”
I like being alone, I do, but sometimes I wish there was someone next to me whose shoulder I could rest my head on. Someone who would let me hold their hand as we watch the sun set over Paris. Someone who would listen to me tell stories about the trips I took to the basilica as a kid with my father. Someone who would pull me away from the crowds to kiss me under the shade of the tree growing up the side of the hill.
I don’t think everything needs to be perfected as a skill. There’s nothing wrong with just enjoying something for the sake of enjoying it. We don't need to become better at it and certainly not perfect.
What I expect is a bedroom. I expect a bed, a dresser, maybe a pile of laundry on the floor. What I don’t expect is an empty room with dark gray walls and ornate crown molding. There are deep purple velvet drapes hanging over the windows. Aside from an upholstered chair and a velvet bench, the only piece of furniture in the room is a large wood antique wardrobe.
When I have you tied up, I will want to fuck you. And when you are tied up for me, you will want me to. In fact, you’ll beg for it. You’ll beg for my cock in your sweet, dripping little cunt. If this letter scares you—good. It’s meant to. I am not a kind or gentle man, Camille. And I’m no fucking teacher. I want you to fully understand what you ask of me because there is no chance of us going down this road with any part of it remaining innocent or appropriate. So tell me. Are you still curious?
“You are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” Silently, I nod, making him crack a smile. It’s the most warmth he’s ever given me, and I’m hungry for more. “You’re playing with fire, you know that? I can’t seem to say no to you, although I should.”
“Midnight. Upstairs. Understand?” Again, I nod. “Good girl,” he replies, and it has me melting against the cabinets. The effect of those words alters my brain chemistry.
“I hope you know that I do want more,” he adds with a wince of pain in his expression. “You have no idea how much I want. But I don’t trust myself. Because once I go further, it will be a slippery slope. First, I’ll touch you. Then I’ll taste you. Then I’ll fuck you. And all the rules we set out will be for nothing. We just have too much at stake. I’m sorry.”
“Camille,” I say in a warning. This is dangerous. We’re about to cross another line; I can feel it. It’s all moving too fast, and I don’t care anymore. I want to believe that in this quiet space, in the middle of the night, between just us, rules and boundaries don’t matter.
“I never hated you,” he says, and it’s almost silent. Then he takes a step toward me so I can feel the warmth of his body. “I want to believe that.” We are standing at the precipice of something grand, ready to jump. His hand lifts to touch my face the same way it did that first night I found him here. “We really shouldn’t do this,” he whispers so quietly the words drift off into the darkness. “I don’t care,” I reply. “Neither do I.” With that, he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and drags me forcefully into his arms. We don’t utter a word before our lips crash together.
“We’ve done it,” he whispers. “We crossed the line.” I know we should feel bad about that, but at this point, it feels like a relief. The damage is done. “There’s no going back now,” I reply with a smile. Pulling back, he grinds his hips forward, pressing slowly inside me as he says, “I like breaking the rules.”
“No one else can touch you,” I say as I swipe open the top button of her blouse. “No one else can even fucking look at you.”
“Do you understand me?” I ask as I slide my hand around her waist under her shirt, my cool palm against her hot skin. “You are mine, little bird. No one else’s.”
When I say you’re perfect, I don’t mean that perfection defines you. I mean you define perfection.”
“You like the idea of me fucking a baby into you.” “Yes!” I shout. “The thought of your swollen belly makes me so fucking feral for you.”
“I chose you because you are perfect in every way. You are perfect to me. You are everything I have ever wanted and will ever want, and I chose you as my date tonight because as long as you are in the room, I see no one else. Understand?”
But when I open my mouth, the most true and honest thing I have comes slipping out. “I love you.” I feel like a coward as her eyes water, and she stares at me as if she’s waiting for the real truth. But that is the truth. I do love her. With my entire heart and probably for longer than I’ve been able to admit, I have loved her.
“I love you too,” she whispers. Our faces are so close I’m sure no one around us can see the monumental thing happening between us here, but they don’t matter.
“I’m ready for you, little bird,” I command with a rasp in my tone. “Crawl to me.”
You’re not too loud or too curious. You are not filling a hole in my heart or replacing a person I’ve lost. That hole will always exist, much like the hole left in your heart the day your father passed. I’ve been to enough counseling in the past two months to understand that. But our hearts and lives will grow around those holes, and I hope more than anything that we can do that together. I love you so much it hurts, little bird. But I don’t want to hold you down anymore.
“Is that why Camille can’t sleep in your bed anymore?” she asks after we pull away from the hug. “Because Maman died?” “No,” I reply. “She wasn’t supposed to sleep in my bed because she’s your nanny.” Why am I even telling my six-year-old this? “So she can stop being my nanny,”
“And…what did you think about it?” Tears fill her lashes again. “I love you so much it hurts too,” she says with a sob. “And I don’t want to fly off anymore. Not without you.”
