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The honest words hang between us, and I can’t help but stare at her like I’m seeing her for the first time.
She shrugs and turns away from me, her eyes flashing with dejection, before she can turn her back on me. I don’t like that. Why don’t I like that?
Haven’t I made it my mission to make her life as miserable as possible since she arrived?
Haven’t I been spouting about how much I despise her presence to literally anyone who will listen?
Before I can stop myself, I reach for her, dragging her back against me until she’s pressed against me and her wide eyes are staring up at me with surprise.
“Kaos, what are you?—”
I crash my lips down on hers, desperate to taste the sweetness of her, and fuck, it doesn’t disappoint. My tongue demands entry, and she has no choice but to give me exactly what I want as I devour her, savoring every taste like it’ll be my last. Because fuck, it might be.
At any moment, she could push me away and deprive me of her, and I would deserve it. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to her, and kissing her like this isn’t exactly winning me any favors.
Camilla’s hands weave their way between us and try to push me back, but I don’t let her go. I back her up until the backs of her legs hit the bedside table, and then I lift her onto it without ever prying my lips from hers.
As soon as she’s settled, I step between her thighs and move one of my hands to the nape of her neck, positioning her exactly where I want her. Where I need her.
I’ve never felt so fucking desperate for a woman before, like I’ll stop breathing if her lips are no longer fused to mine.
It’s a ridiculous thought, seeing as I burst in here to force her out of my home, away from my family, but now that I’ve tasted her, now that she’s allowed me to see beneath the ice queen exterior she’s been trained to show the world, I’m addicted.
I shove my hand up the front of her shirt, one of Kovu’s she seems to have commandeered, desperate to feel her soft skin beneath my palm.
She jolts at the sudden intrusion, but she doesn’t attempt to escape me again. Instead, she wraps both arms around my neck, pulling me farther into her as if she’s just as desperate for me as I am for her.
I push my hand higher and pinch her nipple through her lacy bra. Have the others seen her like this? Am I the one who’s late to the party? Probably.
I don’t think any of them have fucked her yet. It’s something they would have spoken about. Unless they left me out of the loop. Unless they didn’t want me included because I’ve been such an asshole to her.
The thought is like a cold bucket of water, and I take a step back, watching as Camilla drags in greedy breaths, her chest heaving as she stares at me.
Her hair is a little mussed from where my hands were, her face flushed with desire as she stares back at me. There’s a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, and I watch as she builds her walls between us. I’m not surprised, and I don’t blame her. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to her, why would she put herself at risk of me hurting her?
I take a step toward her, and her eyes widen as I approach. This time when I take her lips, I’m gentle, or at least as gentle as I can be. I’m not known for my softness, and although I’m trying not to scare her, there’s nothing I want more than to mark her, than for her to wear the evidence of my touch for the others to see.
Her tongue swipes across my bottom lip, and a strangled groan escapes my throat. Has it ever felt like this before?
That’s the answer I’m equally desperate for and terrified of.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CAMILLA
If you gave me a million ways things were going to play out when Kaos came storming in here, this still would have been dead last.
He’s kissing me like I’m his reason for breathing, but we both know that’s not the case. Up until this minute, he’s barely been able to stand being in the same room as me, and the few times he’s tried to make nice, we’ve ended up in an argument. If I’m honest, I’m pretty sure our personalities just aren’t compatible. But apparently, our bodies are.
I tug him closer, holding my arms around his neck tightly as if it will do anything to stop him from getting away if that’s what he wants.
Any second now, he’s going to snap out of it and go back to hating me, but why does that thought make my stomach roll uncomfortably?
To begin with, I was trying to push him off, since this is a bad idea. A really fucking bad idea, but that doesn’t stop me from grinding against him like a wanton whore. Jesus, at this point I kind of am, but only when it comes to the men in this house.
Do you think this is some kind of Stockholm syndrome?
Kaos lifts me from the bedside table like I weigh nothing, and a moment later, my back hits the mattress. His body comes down on mine a second later, and his heat is stifling. He’s so huge that I can barely see the room around him out of my peripheral vision, but somehow I still tug him closer, desperate for him, for his heat, for his passion, for his hate.
