Page 83 of Second Quarter Comeback
Breaking the Line
We stumble into my bedroom, the door clicking shut behind us with a sense of finality. My hand fumbles with the lock, the sound of it turning somehow louder than it should be, like it’s announcing our intentions to the entire world. I turn to faceher, my breath uneven as I meet her eyes. They’re wide, uncertain, but blazing with a heat that matches the inferno building in my chest.
“Are we really doing this?” I ask, my voice low and gravelly, carrying the weight of too many emotions I’ve spent years avoiding. My heart is hammering so hard, it’s probably visible through my shirt. Romantic.
Camille’s lips part, and her breath hitches. For a second, I think she might back out, and I brace myself for rejection. But then she leans in, her eyes locking onto mine. “I hope so,” she whispers, her voice so soft it could dissolve me on the spot.
I cup her cheek, my thumb gliding over her skin. It’s smooth and warm, and I wonder if she feels the tremor in my hand. “I need you, Cam,” I admit, the words tumbling out rough and desperate. “So fucking much.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Killion,” she orders, her tone half a challenge and half an invitation.
Oh, I’ll shut up. I crash my mouth onto hers, leaving no doubt about who’s in charge—or at least trying to convince myself I am. The kiss is explosive, a heady mix of hunger and emotion that steals every rational thought I’ve ever had. My hands move instinctively, skimming over the thick, winter layers that feel like they’re conspiring to keep us apart. I tug at her scarf, then her coat, discarding them onto the floor like unwrapping the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.
The heat between us builds, a living, breathing thingthat sparks with every touch. My senses are overwhelmed—her scent, a mix of vanilla and something floral, clings to the air. Her lips taste faintly of chocolate, and I realize with a grin that it’s from the damn cookies she stole earlier.
“Chocolate?” I murmur against her lips, my voice teasing.
Her laughter is breathless and warm against my mouth. “You’re one to talk. Your lips taste like bourbon and bad decisions.”
Probably.
I press her closer, my hands sliding to her waist, feeling the curve of her body beneath the knit sweater she’s wearing. It’s soft, but not as soft as her skin, which I’m suddenly desperate to feel. My fingers tug at the hem, the fabric resisting slightly before giving way. Beneath it, her skin is warm, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
She leans into me, her hands roaming over my chest, tugging at my shirt like she’s done waiting. “You have too many clothes on,” she murmurs, her breath hot against my ear.
I chuckle, the sound rough and self-deprecating. “So do you. Let’s fix that.”
Her sweater joins the growing pile of clothing on the floor, and I marvel at the sight of her—flushed cheeks, slightly messy hair, her lips swollen from our kisses. She’s stunning, and I feel like a mess in comparison,but somehow, she’s looking at me like I’m the only thing she wants.
The room feels hotter, like the air itself has thickened around us, wrapping us in a cocoon of shared heat and desire. Every nerve in my body is tuned to her—her soft sighs, the way her fingers dig into my shoulders as I kiss the sensitive skin of her neck. Time seems to stretch, each second heavy with need and anticipation, each touch igniting a fire that threatens to consume me entirely.
Camille stands before me now in nothing but her bra and panties, the soft fabric clinging to her curves. My boxers feel like they’re burning against my skin, a cruel barrier that only amplifies my growing ache for her. She’s perfect—absolutely breathtaking—with her flushed cheeks and eyes half-lidded with want.
I step closer, my hands trailing up her sides, over her ribs, until they find the clasp of her bra. My fingers fumble for a moment, my eagerness getting the better of me, but then the clasp gives way, and the straps slide down her shoulders. The garment falls to the floor, forgotten, as I take her in.
Her breasts are full and flawless, her nipples pebbled from either the cold air or the heat of the moment—or maybe both. My breath catches, and I can’t help but let out a low groan. “God, Cam, you’re . . . fuck, you’re incredible.”
She bites her lip, her cheeks darkening in a way that tells me my words affect her just as much as her bodyaffects me. “Are you just going to stare, or are you going to do something about it?” she teases, her voice breathy but laced with challenge.
I answer by cupping her breasts with both hands, my palms warm against her soft, supple skin. She arches into my touch, her breath hitching as my thumbs circle her nipples, teasing them until they stiffen further under my ministrations. Her moan is quiet but needy, and the sound sends a jolt of desire straight to my core.
“Fuck, you’re so soft,” I murmur, leaning in to kiss her neck, her collarbone, trailing my lips lower. The faint taste of her skin—salty, sweet, and entirely her—fuels my hunger. My mouth finds one of her nipples, and I draw it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bud.
Her reaction is instant. She gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. “Killion,” she breathes, her voice trembling, somewhere between a plea and a command.
I suck gently at first, then harder, pulling more of her into my mouth. My hand kneads her other breast, my fingers tugging and teasing her nipple until her hips buck against me, seeking more contact. The sounds she makes—soft, breathless moans and whispered curses—are like music, and I want to hear more, to make her completely lose herself in this moment.
Switching to her other breast, I lavish it with the same attention, my tongue flicking and swirling as my lips tug at her sensitive flesh. Her nails rake lightlyagainst my scalp, and the slight sting only heightens the pleasure coursing through me. She’s trembling now, her body responding to every touch, every kiss, every deliberate motion of my hands and mouth.
“You taste so good,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough and thick with need. “I could do this all night.”
Her laugh is breathless, edged with desire. “You better not stop,” she manages, her voice shaking as her body presses against mine.
I chuckle, low and deep, the sound vibrating against her chest. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
I trail kisses back up to her neck, my hands sliding down to her waist, then to the curve of her hips. The heat radiating from her skin is intoxicating, and I know I’m on the edge of losing all control. But for now, I want her to feel everything—to be consumed by the same fire that’s burning through me.
Camille’s body is pliant beneath my hands, her breathy moans filling the room like a melody only I get to hear. She’s the embodiment of temptation, her flushed skin, soft curves, and the way she whispers my name like a prayer. My lips trail back to her collarbone, my hands exploring her hips, dipping to the waistband of her panties.
