Midnight Tension

Camilla's POV,

I couldn't sleep.

The house was too quiet, too still, and my mind wouldn't shut off. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him; Theon leaning back in that armchair, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips, the way his eyes had tracked my every movement like I was something worth studying.

“Off-limits,” Liam's text had said. Like I needed the reminder.

I threw off my blanket with a frustrated huff and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The digital clock on my nightstand glowed 2:47 AM in angry red numbers. This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.

Or… I just needed water, and maybe my brain would finally cooperate and let me sleep.

I padded downstairs in my sleep shorts and an oversized hoodie, bare feet silent on the hardwood. The house was dark except for the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. I made my way toward the kitchen, already picturing the cold relief of water against my parched throat.

But I stopped dead in the doorway.

Theon was there, leaning against the counter in nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants that hung dangerously off his hips. No shirt. Just miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over muscles that flexed as he raised a glass of whiskey to his lips.

My breath caught audibly.

His head turned toward me, slow and deliberate. Those green eyes found mine in the darkness, and a lazy smile curved his mouth.

"Can't sleep either?" His voice was rougher at night, deeper, and it sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool air.

I should leave. Turn around, go back upstairs, lock my door. But my feet wouldn't move.

"I just… wanted water," I managed, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.

"Help yourself." He didn't move, didn't make space for me. Just watched as I forced myself to cross the kitchen, hyperaware of every step, every breath, every inch of distance closing between us.

I reached for a glass from the cabinet above the sink, but it was just out of reach. I stretched up on my toes, fingers grazing the shelf, and suddenly he was behind me. Right behind me.

His arm extended over my shoulder, easily retrieving the glass, and the heat of his body radiated against my back. I froze, trapped between the counter and him, my pulse hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.

"Here." His breath ghosted across my neck as he handed me the glass, and I felt it everywhere; my skin, my stomach, between my thighs.

"Thanks," I whispered, not trusting my voice.

I should move. He should move. Someone should move.

But neither of us did.

"You're thinking too loud, Camilla." His voice was so close now, almost a murmur against my ear. "I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours."

My fingers tightened around the glass. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" He shifted slightly, and I felt the solid wall of his chest brush against my back. "Then why are you shaking?"

"I'm not–" But I was. My whole body was trembling, caught between wanting to run and wanting to lean back into him.

His hand came to rest on the counter beside mine, caging me in, and my breath stuttered. I could see the veins in his forearm, the flex of muscle beneath tan skin, the expensive watch gleaming on his wrist.

"Tell me to move, Camilla." His lips hovered so close to my neck that I felt each word ghost across my skin, raising goosebumps. "Tell me to back off, and I will."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Because I didn't want him to back off. I wanted him closer, and that terrified me more than anything.

"That's what I thought," he murmured, and I felt him smile against my hair.

Then his fingers brushed mine where they gripped the counter; feather-light, barely there. Testing. My breath hitched audibly, and he did it again, this time trailing slowly up my wrist, my forearm, leaving fire in his wake. My skin prickled with awareness, every nerve ending coming alive.

"Theon–" His name came out strangled, desperate.

"Yeah, baby?" The endearment sent liquid heat pooling between my thighs.

"This is… we can't…" I forced the words out even as my body betrayed me, arching back slightly, seeking more contact.

"Can't what?" His other hand came up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my neck, thumb pressing against my racing pulse. "Can't stand here? Can't talk?"

"You know what I mean." My voice was breathless, barely recognizable.

His thumb traced the line of my jaw, tilting my head back against his shoulder. The position exposed my throat, vulnerable. "Say it, then. Tell me exactly what we can't do."

I turned my head just enough to meet his eyes, and the raw hunger there nearly made my knees buckle. Dark. Predatory. Dangerous.

"We can't… I'm Liam's sister. You're his best friend. He told me you're off-limits."

Something flickered in his expression; amusement, maybe, mixed with challenge. "He told you that, did he?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"And what did he tell me?" Theon's fingers slipped under the hem of my hoodie, finding bare skin at my hip. I gasped at the electric contact, my stomach muscles contracting.

"I don't–what?"

"He told me to keep an eye on you. To make sure you're safe." His lips curved into a wicked smile against my temple. "He didn't say anything about keeping my hands to myself."

"That's not–" But my protest died as his thumb traced slow circles on my hip bone, dipping dangerously low toward the waistband of my shorts. My legs trembled.

"Not what? Not fair?" He chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating through me. "You're right. It's not fair at all. Not fair that you walk around in these tiny shorts, showing off these perfect legs. Not fair that you bite your lip when you look at me, like you're imagining what my mouth would feel like on yours."

"I don't–"

"Don't lie, Camilla." His hand splayed across my stomach now, pulling me flush against him. I could feel every hard plane of his body, including the thick ridge pressed against my lower back. "I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Like you're starving for something you're too scared to ask for."

He was right. God, he was right, and I hated how transparent I was to him.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, teeth grazing my earlobe. "One word, and I walk away. We pretend this never happened."

I should. I should say it right now, preserve what little boundaries we had left. But the word lodged in my throat, refused to come.

Instead, I made the fatal mistake of looking up at him over my shoulder, and the molten heat in his eyes incinerated whatever resolve I had left.

"That's my girl," he murmured, and then his mouth was on my neck, soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of it that made my toes curl.

His tongue traced a path to my pulse point, and when his teeth scraped over it, I couldn't suppress the whimper that escaped.

I melted against him completely, the glass nearly slipping from my trembling hand. This was wrong. So wrong. But it felt too perfect to stop, too right to pull away from.

His hand slid higher under my hoodie, fingers tracing the underside of my ribs, thumb brushing the sensitive skin just below my breast. My back arched involuntarily, pushing into his touch.

"Theon, please–"

"Please what, baby? Please stop?" His other hand came up, palm sliding up my thigh, fingers teasing the hem of my shorts.

"...Or please don't stop? Please touch you here?" His fingers traced higher, so close to where I throbbed with need. "Or here?"

I wanted to answer but couldn't form coherent thoughts beyond ‘more’ and ‘yes’ and ‘please’.

He spun me around suddenly, backing me fully against the counter. Now we were face to face, his eyes boring into mine in the darkness. His hands bracketed me on either side, arms caging me in.

"This is your last chance, Camilla." His voice was rough gravel. "After this, I'm not stopping. I'm going to kiss you, and then I'm going to take you upstairs and make you scream my name. So if that's not what you want, tell me now."

My heart slammed against my ribs. My hands came up, resting against his chest… feeling his heart racing just as fast as mine. I could push him away. Should push him away.

But then his hand cupped my face, thumb dragging across my bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. His eyes tracked the movement, darkening further.

"Fuck it," he breathed.