When Want Took Control

Camilla's POV,

The kiss wasn't gentle.

It was hungry, demanding, all-consuming. His lips claimed mine like he'd been starving for this, like he'd been holding back since the moment we met and couldn't do it for one more second.

I gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage, his tongue sliding past my lips in a way that made my knees go weak. My hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer even as my brain screamed that this was wrong, that we shouldn't be doing this.

But God, it felt so right.

His hands were everywhere; one tangled in my hair, angling my head exactly where he wanted it, the other sliding down to grip my waist and pull me flush against him. I could feel every hard inch of him pressed against me, and a whimper escaped my throat.

"Fuck, Camilla," he groaned against my lips, the sound vibrating through me. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted this."

"Theon–" I tried to speak, but he cut me off with another devastating kiss, his teeth grazing my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

He lifted me effortlessly onto the counter, stepping between my thighs, and suddenly we were level. His hands slid up under my hoodie, fingers splaying across my bare skin, and I arched into his touch like I'd been waiting my whole life for it.

"Tell me you want this," he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire. "Tell me you want me."

"I–" The words stuck in my throat, tangled up with fear and guilt and need.

"Say it, baby." His hands tightened on my waist, his forehead pressing against mine. "I need to hear you say it."

"I want this," I whispered, the admission tearing out of me. "I want you."

Something feral flashed in his eyes. "Thank fuck."

Then his mouth was on my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my throat. I tilted my head back, giving him access, my fingers digging into his shoulders as pleasure sparked through every nerve ending.

His hands slid higher, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through my thin tank top, and I nearly came apart right there. No one had ever touched me like this. No one had ever made me feel like this… like I was burning from the inside out.

"You're so fucking responsive," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with approval. "I barely touch you and you're already trembling."

"Theon, please–" I didn't even know what I was begging for anymore.

"Please what?" His hands moved to my thighs, spreading them wider, pulling me to the edge of the counter so I could feel exactly how much he wanted me. "Use your words, Camilla."

But I couldn't. My brain had short-circuited, overwhelmed by sensation, by him.

He pulled back slightly, his hands framing my face, forcing me to look at him. "We need to stop."

The words were like cold water. "What?"

"Not here. Not like this." His jaw clenched, and I could see how much it cost him to pull away. "You deserve better than being fucked on your kitchen counter the first time."

My cheeks flamed at his bluntness, but heat pooled low in my stomach at the implication. “The first time.” Like there would be more.

"I don't care," I breathed, surprising myself with my boldness. "I don't care where–"

"But I do." He pressed a softer kiss to my forehead, and the tenderness of it made my chest ache. "Trust me, baby. When I finally have you, I want to take my time. I want to hear every sound you make. I want to watch you fall apart for me over and over again."

His words painted pictures in my mind that made me dizzy with want.

"But Liam–"

"Liam's in Dallas," Theon said, his thumb tracing my swollen bottom lip. "And we have two more days."

Two more days of this tension. Two more days of wanting him. Two more days before my brother came home and everything became complicated.

"Okay," I whispered.

He helped me down from the counter, steadying me when my legs wobbled. His hands lingered on my waist, like he wasn't quite ready to let go.

"Go to bed, Camilla." His voice was strained, controlled. "Before I change my mind and take you right here anyway."

I should have been embarrassed. Should have been mortified by how desperate I'd been, how easily I'd melted for him. But as I looked up at him, at the raw desire still burning in his eyes, at the tension in his jaw, at the way his hands flexed like he was physically restraining himself… I felt powerful.

I'd done this to him. Made him lose control. Made him want me so badly he had to force himself to stop.

"Goodnight, Theon," I said softly, letting my fingers trail across his bare chest as I moved past him.

I heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his eyes burning into my back as I walked away. When I reached the doorway, I paused and looked back over my shoulder.

He was exactly where I'd left him, hands braced on the counter, head bowed, muscles taut with restraint.

"Sweet dreams," I added, then disappeared upstairs before I could see his reaction.

Back in my room, I closed the door and leaned against it, my heart still racing. My lips were swollen from his kisses, my skin still tingling where he'd touched me, and between my thighs I was achingly aware of how much I wanted more.

I crawled back into bed, but sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands on me, heard his voice in my ear, tasted him on my lips.

“Two more days,” he'd said.

I wasn't sure I'd survive them.

~~~~~~~

Morning came too quickly and not quickly enough. I'd maybe gotten two hours of sleep, my mind replaying the kitchen scene on an endless loop. Every kiss. Every touch. Every filthy promise in his voice.

I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first clothes I found—a simple white t-shirt and jeans—and headed downstairs with my heart in my throat.

Would things be awkward? Would he pretend it never happened? Would he regret it?

But when I entered the kitchen, Theon was there, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that should be illegal, making coffee like he owned the place.

He looked up when I walked in, and the heat in his eyes told me he definitely didn't regret anything.

"Morning, baby." The endearment rolled off his tongue easily, intimately, like he'd been calling me that for years.

"Morning," I managed, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

He crossed to me with predatory grace, backing me against the wall before I could think. One hand braced beside my head, the other tilting my chin up.

"Sleep well?" His lips curved into a knowing smirk.

"You know I didn't."

"Good." He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "Neither did I. Couldn't stop thinking about how you tasted. How you sounded. How badly I want to finish what we started."

My breath hitched, and his smile widened.

"But first," he stepped back, leaving me dizzy, "I'm taking you to school. Wouldn't want you to be late."

Right, school. Reality. The world outside this bubble we'd created.

"Okay," I whispered.

As I grabbed my bag and followed him to his car, one thought echoed in my mind.

Two more days until Liam came home.

And just two more days until this became real.