Page 148 of Corrupting Camille
God help me…I believe him.
Sliding from his embrace, I pick up his discarded shirt from the floor, tugging it over my head. It’s enormous, drowning my frame completely. It smells like him, like spice and heat and that quiet, controlled strength I’ve grown addicted to. It’s intimate in a way that feels dangerous, vulnerable, perfect.
I pad barefoot toward his kitchen, sunlight warm against my bare legs, and start fumbling through cabinets in search of coffee.
I find some coffee grounds and a French press tucked neatly behind rows of glasses. Frowning, I stare at it for a moment, simple glass and metal somehow feeling intimidating in the pristine, quietly luxurious kitchen. I’m halfway through scooping grounds into the press when Kane’s voice comes from behind me, warm with quiet amusement.
“You’re planning on boiling water first, right?”
I pause, spinning slowly to face him, arching one brow defensively. “Was I supposed to?”
He smiles slightly, shaking his head as he moves closer, gently extracting the French press from my hands like he’s disarminga bomb. “I knew you were dangerous, but this is borderline criminal.”
I roll my eyes softly, folding my arms and leaning back against the marble countertop. “You have an unhealthy obsession with precision, Kane.”
He chuckles, low and rich, turning toward the stove and flicking on the burner with practiced ease. “Coffee deserves respect. Good coffee is like chess, it requires focus, patience, the right timing. The details matter.”
I watch quietly as he moves around the kitchen, shirtless, effortlessly graceful, a quiet confidence in every deliberate action. He’s meticulous, measuring the grounds carefully, timing the steep precisely. This version of Kane, methodical and quietly focused, is dangerously fascinating.
He pours a steaming mug, handing it to me carefully, eyes warm with expectation. “Sip slowly. This is god-tier. I won’t tolerate disrespect.”
I smirk softly, taking a sip. Flavor blooms across my tongue, smooth and rich, undeniably perfect. I pause, genuinely surprised, before looking back at him.
“Fine,” I concede quietly. “It’s good.”
He lifts an eyebrow, leaning in closer, voice lowering into something warm and provocative, edged with quiet amusement. “Just good?”
I raise the cup again, taking a slow, deliberate sip, eyes flashing playfully at him from behind the rim. “Careful,” I tease lightly. “Your ego’s already filling up this kitchen. Stroke it anymore and you’ll need a bigger penthouse.”
His smile deepens, turning dangerous, that easy charm sharpening into something primal. He moves toward me, every slow, purposeful step tightening the air between us until it’s nearly suffocating. “I’ve got something else you can stroke.”
“Kane,” I breathe, pulse skittering rapidly under my skin as I back away instinctively. “Don’t.”
He tilts his head, gaze locked on mine, voice dropping into that seductive rasp that always unravels me. “Don’t what?”
“Listen, you insatiable man,” I say, lifting my chin defiantly, even as heat floods my cheeks, “I’m trying to enjoy this moderately average cup of coffee in peace.”
He pauses, eyebrow arching sharply, a slow smirk curving his lips.
“Moderately average?”
My heart kicks harder in my chest, adrenaline quickening my breath. I set the mug down slowly, bracing my hands behind me, gripping the countertop.
“You should run,” he warns quietly, his gaze never wavering from mine.
I smirk softly, chin tilting defiantly even as I feel the heat climbing up my neck. “And if I don’t?”
“Then don’t say I didn’t warn you, Muñequita.”
***
Later, curled together beneath a blanket on the couch, he patiently guides me through an opening, the Sicilian Defense, his voice quiet and steady, his fingers careful, precise, confident.
I pretend I’m paying attention. He pretends not to notice my distraction.
But neither of us pretends about anything else. Not after last night.Not after whispered truths, raw promises, fierce declarations breathed between tangled sheets.
This is our haven, quiet and warm, dangerously temporary perhaps, but right now, perfectly real.
