Chapter 5

[Kendall]

I wake up with Camden's arms wrapped around me, and it takes me a long moment to figure out where I am and what’s going on.

Then I remember last night—a flash across my memory of Bruno’s face—and I gasp.

Camden murmurs something in his sleep and rocks against me, his morning erection pressing against my ass.

I swallow hard.

My teenage self would be over the moon right now, lying in bed with Camden, feeling his arms around me, his body pressed against mine—but I have no idea how to handle it.

My mind is spinning between the confusion of this intimate closeness and the aching emptiness inside me.

Part of me wants to cling to him and let myself forget, even if just for a little while.

I just don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to see Bruno’s dead body, think about the fact that he’s just...gone.

I don’t want to think about Marco’s heavy breaths as he chased me through the woods.

Or how I was only able to get rid of him by climbing over a rose bush that cut along my legs, the sharp sting of the thorns scraping across my skin.

So I lie there, hoping Camden won’t notice that I’m awake, hoping he’ll just keep holding me.

But he shifts, his hand coming to rest on my waist, his fingers brushing the edge of my skin under my shirt.

“Kendall,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with sleep.

My heart stutters, and I freeze, not knowing what to say. He shifts closer, and I can feel his breath against my ear, warm and soft, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Are you alright?” he whispers, his voice so close, so intimate, that it makes my heart pound faster.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I want.

All I know is that his warmth, his strength, feels like the only solid thing in my world right now, and I want to cling to it.

He shifts his hand, his fingers tracing along my waist, and I suck in a shaky breath.

When I look up, his sea-green eyes are gazing down at me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.

“Camden…” I whisper, my voice barely audible, and he leans in closer, his eyes darkening.

Before I can think about what’s happening, he’s pressing his lips to mine, soft and warm.

The kiss is gentle at first, hesitant, as if testing my resolve.

But when I respond, when I let myself lean into him, he deepens it, his hand sliding up my side, pulling me closer.

His lips are warm and soft against mine, his kiss growing hungrier as he presses his body against mine.

I can feel every inch of him, and my heart races, my body heating up all over as if my skin is coming alive under his touch. His lips are urgent, almost desperate, and I lose myself in the feel of them.

My hands trail down his back, feeling the firm, muscled curve of his shoulder blades under my fingers. I scratch my acrylic nails down his bare flesh, watching the goosebumps rise in response.

He lost the T-shirt sometime in the night, and I’m grateful. The sight of him like this—bare-chested, vulnerable, and with me—is a thrill that races down to my very core.

His chest is broad and tight, and he pulls me closer, his hands firm on my waist as he rolls his hips against me. I can feel him, hard and thick, pressing against my thigh, and a surge of desire flares inside me, taking over the ache of my sadness for the first time since yesterday.

I moan into his mouth, and he pulls away, panting, his breath mingling with mine in the close space between us.

I shake my head before he says anything, my hands resting on his chest as I struggle to catch my breath. “Camden, this is... This is wrong,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “What about Elora?”

His lips curve into the faintest smirk, his sea-green eyes boring into me. “Do you think I haven’t thought about this? About her? About what she’d say?”

His fingers trace along my waist, sending shivers through me even as his words make my chest tighten. “But Kendall, this isn’t about her right now. This is about us.”

I pull back slightly, shaking my head. “N-no, Camden. She’d never forgive me.”

He cups my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this, principessa. That you don’t want this.”

I bite my lip, his words cutting through my resolve. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” I say, though my voice is weak, trembling. “It’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my skin. “Tell me, principessa—does this feel wrong?” He presses his lips to mine again, his kiss fierce and unyielding, leaving me breathless.

I stare at him, my heart pounding, my emotions a tangled mess. “Camden...” I whisper, my voice breaking.

His hands tighten on my waist, his body impossibly close to mine. “Stop running from what you already know you want.”

I don’t know how to respond. All I know is that his touch, his presence, is everything I need right now. And maybe, just for this moment, that’s enough.

He rolls over, covering my body with his own, and I feel his warmth, his strength, pressed into every inch of me. He kisses along my neck, the light scrape of his teeth sending shivers down my spine, and then along my collarbone.

His lips warm and gentle as he slowly tears down my shirt to get to my breasts.

They spill out of the ruined shirt, and he latches onto a nipple, his mouth hot and soft.

My back arches, a sharp cry escaping me as waves of heat and pleasure pulse through me.

I haven’t been with a man since high school, since my one and only boyfriend. But he was just a stupid boy.

I’ve never been with a man like Camden.

He moves his tongue around my peaked nipple, flicking it lightly before sucking, and it sends a jolt of pleasure down between my legs.

I spread my thighs, needing more, needing all of him.

When he finally pulls his head up, after torturing me for what feels like forever, he slides my shorts down and off, throwing them to the ground.

He sits up on his knees, looking down at me with a heated gaze that makes me feel exposed and wanted all at once.

I can see his hardness through his sweats, see how long and thick he is, and my eyes widen.

Is that even going to fit?