Page 194 of Corrupting Camille
She swallows hard, eyes locked on mine. “I wasn’t trying…”
“Doesn’t matter.” I lean in until my mouth brushes hers, voice harsh and raw. “You let him see something he shouldn’t. You showed him a piece of you that’s mine.”
Her breath trembles against my lips, heart slamming so loudly I can almost feel it through my fingertips. “Then remind me who I belong to.”
I kiss her like I’m punishing her for making me feel this fucking insane. It’s brutal. Unforgiving. A theft of breath, of thought, of power. My hand fists in her hair, dragging her deeper into the kind of kiss that scorches, feral, raw, a threat carved into the seam of her mouth.
She gasps when I pull back, lips bruised, breath shattering against mine. Her pupils are blown, cheeks flushed, the neckline of her white dress clinging to her like sin I haven’t forgiven yet.
“There’s your fucking reminder,” I growl against her mouth, dragging my thumb across her lips, swollen and wet from me. “You smile for me. You laugh for me. You fucking breathe for me.”
She stares up at me like she knows she’s in too deep, but she doesn’t run. Never does. Her chest rises in quick, shallow bursts, her dress like parchment against fire, thin, delicate, and already halfway gone in my head.
I see the flicker in her eyes, guilt, defiance, arousal. That perfect storm that makes me lose every ounce of control I pretend to have.
“I hate when you look at anyone else,” I say, voice flat and sharp, like a blade to the throat. “Even for a second. Even if it didn’t mean a goddamn thing.”
“Kane…” she whispers. It’s not a protest. It’s a confession.
My hand slips from her jaw to her throat, not squeezing. Just reminding. Claiming.
“I don’t fucking share,” I whisper, voice like a blade scraping over stone. “Not your attention. Not your laugh. Not even the way your breath catches when someone looks at you like they see what only I’m allowed to.”
She shivers beneath my touch, spine rigid, her pulse throbbing against my fingers. But she doesn’t move, doesn’t dare break the contact that binds her to me.
“I wasn’t flirting,” she says quietly, stubbornly. Defiant even now.
My jaw clenches, teeth grinding together. I tilt her face up sharply, forcing her eyes on mine, forcing her to witness the unhinged violence she stirs inside me.
“I don’t give a fuck what you think you were doing.” My voice is low, controlled fury lacing every syllable. “He looked at you like he had the right. Like he could be the one to make you laugh, to claim you.”
Her brow creases in frustration. “You’re acting like I cheated.”
A harsh laugh rips from my throat, cold, raw, filled with dark promise. It lingers, suspended in the charged space between us, heavy and unmistakable.
“If you’d actually cheated, Camille,” I rasp, my voice savage, brutal truth dripping from every word, “he’d already be rotting beneath the foundation of my fucking house. And you?” My grip tightens painfully, possessively, on her jaw. “I’d keep yousomewhere no one could ever look at you again. No light, no freedom, no chance of escape. Just darkness…and me.”
Her breath stalls in her chest, eyes widening as she registers the quiet brutality behind my words. I watch her carefully, drinking in her reaction, the flare of shock that bleeds into something deeper, something twisted and hungry she’d rather deny.
But denial won’t save her now. Not from me. Not from this.
“You’re being insane…”
I squeeze, not hard, just enough to make her gasp, to remind her she’s mine and I’m not fucking sane.
“You think I’ll ever be sane about you? Rational?” My mouth is at her ear now, breathing heat and warning. “There is no version of me that exists calmly in your orbit, Camille. You lit the fuse. I’m just what burns.”
Her breath stalls, pupils flaring wide with something she won’t name, fear, fascination, twisted craving. The delicate column of her throat pulses beneath my thumb, betraying every word she won’t say out loud.
“You wouldn’t,” she breathes, barely audible. “You wouldn’t dare.”
My thumb brushes roughly over her trembling bottom lip, forcing her silence, feeling her breath hitch beneath my touch.
“Try me,” I murmur, voice cruelly soft. “I promise you, muñequita, daring me is the most dangerous thing you could ever fucking do.”
Her chest rises sharply, eyes blazing, anger warring openly with desire. A part of her wants to fight me, deny this sick pull we share, but the other half, the half she’s terrified to admit exists, craves it. Craves me. My violence, my obsession, my ruin.
She swallows hard, eyes narrowing in challenge even as her body trembles beneath my touch. “ “Kane…just…stop leaving me alone.”
