I stared into a hurricane, a natural force that had so much power, it could destroy everything in its path. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to escape his pull. It was best to stand there and be taken.
He moved into me, his face coming close to mine. Those intense eyes focused on my mouth for a while, as if deciding how he wanted to devour me, slow and gentle from the start or a starving rampage.
The breaths I took became deeper and more labored. A surge of adrenaline filled my blood. I was scared, scared because this intense man had hurt me more than anything else in life. He would hurt me again if I didn’t keep myself safe, if I didn’t lock up my heart in a place where he couldn’t touch it.
He moved in, fingers anchored into my hair, his lips near my ear. “Camille.”
My eyes closed at the sound of my name on his lips. I wondered how many other names he’d spoken, if he’d spoken any at all, or if I was the first. He used my name so well, like it was more than just a name, but a promise.
He forced my head to turn with his grip, bringing my lips toward him.
My eyes opened to see him closer, see his powerful chest dominate my body. He smelled like he’d just taken a shower, his natural scent subtle under the aroma of his soap. Scotch was on his breath, as if he’d enjoyed a drink in his bedroom after he finished getting ready for the evening. I was so used to that smell that I thought of him every time it wafted into my nose.
His other hand gripped the armrest to hold himself over me, the thick bicep in his arm plump and covered with veins. His head dipped, and his lips made contact with mine, his soft kiss a gentle greeting.
The same feelings were still there, the way a current traveled up my spine and shocked my fingers and toes. Heat flushed through my core, made my neck hot, made my breathing suddenly change into something else.
He kissed me again, getting my lips to move with the force of his. After giving my bottom lip a good kiss, he parted my lips with his and gave me just a bit of his tongue, an intoxicating swipe.
Everything else afterward came in a flash. My hand latched on to his arm, my fingers digging into the thick muscles that were bigger than the size of my head. My other hand planted on his hard chest, feeling the warmth of a furnace. It was exactly the way it used to be, the emotional pull so deep it brought me back into the past, into a time when I thought he could really be mine…someday.
And that was when the moment shattered. Broken glass all over the floor. The ice-cold bite of winter. The unstoppable bleed of betrayal. My hand pushed him in the chest to break our kiss, to get him off me.
He leaned back but didn’t let me go.
“I can’t—” I yanked his hand out of my hair, finally severing the connection between our bodies.
Instead of looking angry, he just looked disappointed.
“If you want to fuck, we’ll fuck. But that’s it.” I wasn’t compromising my heart, not again. “Don’t kiss me ever again.” I remembered the first time he kissed me after he’d said he wouldn’t. It brought us closer together, or at least I thought it did. Now I realized it was the gateway to other things, other things I didn’t want. “When you kissed me…it was all part of your plan.” I didn’t phrase it as a question because I already had the answer. He seduced me. It was my job to fulfill his fantasies, but he was the one who fulfilled mine. He manipulated me with his false affection, with the secrets he confided to me. “Sleeping with me. Saying things like I’m special, I’m different… It was all bullshit.”
“It was not all bullshit—”
“Yes, it was.” I turned to him, doing my best not to cry. “Without your agenda, I would have been just another whore you wouldn’t kiss on the mouth. I wouldn’t have meant a damn thing to you.”
“Maybe I did things I wouldn’t ordinarily do because of Grave, but I enjoyed every second of them, and I’m glad they happened—”
“Just like I said, I wouldn’t have meant a damn thing to you. If Grave didn’t exist, nothing would have happened between us.”
He looked away and rubbed his jawline, his fingertips grazing over his lips where my kiss had been. “What does it matter if he’s the source of my motivation? I pursued a deeper relationship with you, and as a consequence, I grew to care for you. You think the sob story about your mother’s necklace would have meant a damn to me if I didn’t care? You think I would have gotten it back if you didn’t mean something to me?”