19. Chapter Nineteen #2
I realize suddenly, inescapably, that there’s no turning back from this.
Kane has rewritten every line of my fate, branded himself into the marrow of my bones.
Loving him is a violence unto itself, brutal, consuming, unapologetic.
But it’s also loyalty that refuses to waver, refuses to fade, even when the whole world begs me to run.
And despite the fear, despite the raw, aching uncertainty, I know I’m already lost. Bound irrevocably to a man whose darkness could swallow me whole, whose love could break me beyond repair.
But maybe that’s exactly why I’ll stay.
Because no one else could ever love me this deeply, this violently.
This completely.
Just then, Lucia crashes into the conversation like a spark.
“Tío Kane!” she calls, darting past the tables and through the dancers, wild curls bouncing, mouth stretched in a grin too wide for her face.
I look over and see him instantly, backlit by golden light, talking with Diego, whiskey in hand. His posture shifts the second he hears her. Straightens. Sharpens.
Lucia barrels into him, all limbs and attitude. He picks her up like its instinct, strong arms catching her mid-run and spinning her once.
“Te estás portando bien?” he asks, voice lower, affection barely hidden.
Lucia shrugs dramatically. “Más o menos.”
Marisol grins beside me. “She’s the only person in the world who gets away with being a smartass to him.”
“He’d let her burn the house down,” Reina agrees. “She’s the one soft spot he’s never tried to hide.”
I watch them together, Kane’s hand cupping the back of her head, her arms slung around his neck, and something inside me aches.
Not with jealousy.
With knowing.
Because the girl who can pull smiles from monsters isn’t afraid of the dark.
And the woman who loves one?
She can’t be either.
***
Lucia runs back into the crowd a few minutes later, yelling at some boy cousin about her turn at the speaker.
Marisol and Reina are already refilling our drinks. Reina hands me something fruity and cold and probably dangerous, while Marisol tugs me up from the bench.
“You’re officially one of us now,” she announces.
“Oh?” I raise a brow.
“You’ve met Rosa, eaten carne asada, and survived our warning speech.”
Reina grins. “There’s only one thing left.”
The music shifts suddenly, pulsing through the air with an irresistible rhythm that instantly lights up the twins’ faces. Reina grabs my hand, tugging me toward the makeshift dance floor as Marisol slides in behind us, laughter bubbling like champagne from her lips.
“Hope you know how to move your hips, Camille,” Reina warns, eyes glittering mischievously. “Because we’re officially judging you.”
“Oh God,” I groan playfully, already feeling warmth bloom in my cheeks. “Be gentle.”
“Gentle?” Marisol scoffs, taking my other hand and guiding me effortlessly. “Wrong crowd.”
The reggaeton beat kicks harder, faster, flowing through my veins like pure fire.
I let the rhythm wash over me, rolling my hips, matching the sway of theirs.
My pulse quickens, heart racing, as the twins dance circles around me, their energy contagious and wild.
I loosen my shoulders, laughing openly as they shout encouragement over the music, urging me into deeper, bolder moves.
“Eso, Camille!” Marisol cheers, spinning gracefully, curls flying around her face. “You’re a natural!”
I grin back at her, feeling free in a way I haven’t felt in forever, the ache in my chest loosening, melting beneath the heat and music. “You two might just kill me!”
Reina winks wickedly. “That’s the point, chica!”
Just when I think I’ve found my rhythm, the song shifts again, softer, sultrier and Reina’s eyes gleam with anticipation.
She grabs my hands, positioning them gently but firmly, guiding me through the first smooth steps of bachata.
My heart pounds harder, my body flushes warm, hips falling naturally into the seductive sway she leads.
Marisol slips behind me, hands lightly gripping my waist as they move me in tandem, their effortless sensuality urging my confidence higher.
“See?” Reina murmurs, playful and approving. “Told you. You’ve got it.”
“Yeah,” Marisol agrees, voice teasing at my ear. “Kane’s in trouble.”
I laugh breathlessly, moving fluidly between them, surrendering fully to the intoxicating music and their relentless encouragement. We dance together, wrapped in warmth and laughter, the whole world narrowing down to just this moment music and movement and freedom.
Then, abruptly, the rhythm changes again, fast, sharp, unmistakably salsa and I groan dramatically, eyes wide with panic. “No way, I’ll break something!”
But the twins just laugh louder, pulling me even deeper into their wild circle, refusing to let me retreat. “Trust us,” Reina shouts gleefully. “You’re ready.”
They spin me effortlessly, hands guiding, hips swaying, the twins’ laughter ringing loud and vibrant as they pull me deeper into the music. My heart pounds reckless and wild, lost completely to a feeling I’ve forgotten…pure, intoxicating joy.
And then, in a heartbeat, the air shifts.
I feel it before I see it, the unmistakable weight of his gaze pressing against me.
When I look up, my pulse catches sharply, tripping fast and hard beneath my skin.
Kane stands at the edge of the yard, dark eyes riveted, fixed on my every move.
His stare drags slowly down my body, blatant and possessive, like his fingers tracing my curves, branding my skin with each heated second he watches.
Heat floods me, pooling low, my body tightening as awareness sharpens every nerve, every breath.
Marisol leans closer, voice rich with wicked amusement. “Don’t worry. He loves watching you dance.”
Reina laughs softly, eyes bright, lips curling. “Oh, he definitely does. You should see his face right now. That man’s fucking gone.”
I shiver at the thought, cheeks flushing, feeling bold, feeling reckless beneath his watchful eyes. The way he stares at me makes me powerful, dangerous, like I’ve set a match to him and walked away smiling, ready to burn alongside him.
“Oh shit, Camille,” Reina drawls suddenly, gaze flicking behind me, wicked grin widening. “Brace yourself.”
I laugh breathlessly, still dizzy from dancing. “Why?”
But I don’t get a chance to hear her answer.
Because Kane is already there, closing the distance between us with a lethal stride, his expression dark, fierce, promising punishment. His eyes lock on mine, intense and unyielding, holding me captive as the air around us crackles like a live wire.
The DJ murmurs something teasing in Spanish, smug laughter echoing softly as the crowd whistles, playful but knowing. Reina murmurs beside me, anticipation dripping from her words, “Dios mío. Kizomba.”
The rhythm changes, slowing dramatically, deepening into something dark and sensual. The beat pulses thickly, primal and provocative, curling around me, stealing my breath.
My stomach flips, heat spiking sharply, because this…this isn’t innocent anymore.
Kizomba isn’t dancing; it’s foreplay, set to music. It’s hips grinding, skin brushing, breath mingling. It’s a conversation in raw, aching desire, whispered slowly between two bodies who know exactly how they want to end the night.
And Kane?
He knows exactly what he means.
His eyes flare dangerously, shadows spilling across his face as he moves in, not bothering with words or permission.
He invades my space effortlessly, one strong hand settling at the small of my back, pulling me against him until I feel every hard, solid line of his body pressed flush to mine.
His other hand takes mine, guiding it slowly up until my palm rests firmly over his pounding heart.
Our breaths mingle, lips close enough to taste.
His thigh slides unapologetically between mine, hips pressing close, bodies perfectly aligned, leaving no doubt about exactly what he’s thinking.
My breath shakes, the heat between us igniting like gasoline catching flame, his lips ghosting along my ear, breath hot against my skin as he speaks, voice low, dark, filthy.
“Camille,” he murmurs roughly, voice dripping dark promise, the command unmistakable. “Move like we’re fucking.”
A fierce shiver rips through me, my body instantly responding, thighs parting just enough for his leg to press harder between mine.
My hips roll slowly, sensually against him, grinding deliberately into the hard, rigid heat I can feel through his pants, moving exactly the way I would if we were alone, if we were skin on skin, no barriers, nothing but his body driving into mine.
“Good girl,” Kane growls, voice raw and filthy, mouth grazing hot and possessive down my throat. “Nice and slow, Munequita…just like that.”
His tongue sweeps over my pulse, teeth scraping lightly, leaving behind a sharp sting that melts instantly into aching, wet heat. His hips move with slow, relentless precision, guiding mine, each grind deepening the maddening friction until pleasure coils unbearably tight inside me.
My breath fractures, uneven and trembling, each exhale a silent plea.
His fingers dig into my waist, firm enough to bruise, pulling me impossibly closer, hips rocking harder, the fabric of our clothes suddenly too thin, too restrictive.
I gasp softly, nails gripping his shirt as the aching need between my thighs sharpens into desperation.
“Kane…” I moan softly, his name a broken, needy sound.
His grip tightens, hips thrusting slowly, deliberately, exactly the way I crave, driving me closer to that forbidden edge. His mouth moves lower, pressing against the hollow beneath my ear, his voice a dark rasp, dripping possessiveness and desire.
“You feel how fucking hard you’ve made me, Camille?” he murmurs, voice raw, rough. “If we were alone right now, I’d already be buried inside you, making you scream so fucking loud everyone here would know exactly who you belong to.”