Page 238 of Corrupting Camille
I stare at the board. My hand hovers over a rook. “I hate feeling weak.”
“You’re not.”
I glance up. His expression is unreadable, but something in his voice cracks through me. There’s no arrogance. No hard edge. Just conviction.
“You could’ve told me no,” he says. “You could’ve said you weren’t ready. I would’ve respected it.”
“I wanted to be enough,” I murmur.
“You are,” he says, instantly. “You are so much more than enough.”
My breath catches.
The board fades away between us. The game forgotten.
Kane stands.
He walks around the table, slow, deliberate, and crouches beside me. His fingers brush my cheek, his thumb catching the edge of my jaw.
“You scare me sometimes,” he admits.
I blink. “Me?”
He nods. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted and still questioned if I deserved to keep.”
The silence is full of something heavier than fear. Bigger than want.
It’s us.
Messy. Honest. Real.
He presses his forehead to my shoulder, arms sliding around my waist.
We don’t kiss.
We don’t fuck.
We just stay, entangled in the quiet, wrapped in silk and fear and fragile tenderness.
He pulled me into hell.
But now?
He’s trying to give me something else.
Not safety.
But sanctuary.
Chapter Twenty-two
Kane
The phone vibrates softly on the bedside table, dragging me from the shallow sleep I’ve barely allowed myself. I reach over, careful not to disturb Camille’s sleeping form, her breathing soft and steady against my chest. My thumb swipes the screen, illuminating a single, short message from Javi.
Found something. War room. Now.
I glance at Camille. She shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible. Her hand settles instinctively over her stomach, palm flat, protective…an unconscious gesture I’ve noticed lately, subtle enough that it doesn’t seem intentional. But it tightens something in my chest every single time I see it.
