10
Vincent Hawthorne
H er expression falters for a second, and if I wasn’t watching her so intently, I would have missed it because she tries her best to keep her composure. Her hand doesn’t move away from my chest.
I am sure she can still feel my racing heart even if it’s now racing for a whole different reason.
Camilla is as best as it can get. She’s stunning, respectful, and intelligent. She’s effective in everything she does and always maintains a high standard. Even when others mistreat her, she never lowers to their level. Other than the physical attraction I already feel for her, the reasons why I am so weak to resist are far stronger than just the idea of her body pressed against mine.
She sparks my interest like no one else has.
But I still know I won’t be able to give her everything she deserves. Everything she may want.
Even if I wish I could.
Her slender fingers are splayed on my left peck, and I grab her hand gently, intertwining our fingers before bringing her hand down. As I shift my body weight from being pressed against her, I tug her hand, directing her to the couch by the opposite corner of the office.
“I know there is a huge rift between your world and mine,” I start cautiously once we’re both sitting down.
Her eyes lower in shame, and I curse myself internally. The last thing I want is to make her feel like less. I don’t see her as inferior to me, even if others might. But, whereas she has the liberty to choose the path she wants for her life, I don’t.
“Look at me,” I call out softly, tilting her chin up. “I am fully aware of how unprofessional and inappropriate this is, but it’s been incredibly hard to keep my hands to myself.”
“I just don’t want to lose my job and home.” Her eyes widen when she realises she called the manor her home. “I mean, I know this is your house, your property . But I grew up here, and it’s the only home I know.”
“I know what you meant.” I smile understandingly. “And if there is one thing I can promise you is that for as long as it’s my decision, you’ll never lose your home .”
“Still,” she trails off, looking down. “This is all so…weird.”
“There’s a million words running through my mind that I could use to describe our predicament, darling. But weird is not one of them.”
The slight smile on her face eases a bit of my uneasiness. This is uncharted territory for both of us, but…
“I understand,” I tell her instead. “I can give you some time to think this over, but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to keep my distance for long, Camilla.”
Her eyes meet mine, wide and shiny.
“Is there something we can do about it?” she asks innocently.
There’s something that could be done, alright . But I don’t know if I have the guts to ask this of her. Maybe honesty is the best choice? At least, that’s what my father always told me.
“I don’t know what to do, Camilla. Every time we’re in the same room, the tension is suffocating. All I can think about is kissing you, touching you, fucking you ,” I grit out the last words, and she gasps.
As the last words come out of my mouth, my heart sinks.
It doesn’t feel right.
It’s probably because I am sure she deserves more. This stunning woman is intelligent and hard-working, she deserves a man who can put a ring on her finger and make her the happiest woman in the world.
That man won’t be me, though.
Whichever of the possible scenarios for my life…I am expected to marry into nobility. Times are modern but not that modern.
My best-case scenario is that the king becomes a father—the kingdom is waiting for some news soon—and I would only have to keep my title as Duke of Hawthorne. While it would be better than being king, I’d still have to choose between the four women who are fit to be duchesses.
Worst-case scenario, I become king, and those four choices are reduced to two.
My life is literally a joke.
“I feel the attraction, too,” she confesses, biting her lower lip.
A moment. Seconds. Just a few words.
It’s enough to spike my blood pressure and shake me to the core.
I’m not dumb. From all our previous encounters, it was clear she was also affected by my presence. Just like she affects mine. I just never expected her to admit it so bluntly.
“What?” I ask, surprised.
Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of me.
“I feel it, too,” she repeats.
I’ll take every crumb she has to give me and bask in it like I’m having a feast.
Her hands twist on top of her lap, a clear indicator of her apprehension. The need to get rid of that, to show her she doesn’t need to feel that way with me, lead to me grabbing both her hands in mine, a weak attempt to comfort her.
The eyes I’ve recently enjoyed looking at focus on me, bright and wide. Her curiosity wins over the uneasiness, and I can’t help but tug at her hands, bringing her closer to me and kissing her again. This is it.
My lips move a little rougher this time around, matching my need for her.
Just like the first time, she softens against me, letting her body mould onto mine. Our mouths work in tune, and she moans when my hand reaches the back of her head and tangles into her short black locks.
The sound spurs me on, and my hands descend to the back of her thighs to lift her from the opposite end of the couch onto my lap.
Self-control seems to be non-existent every time I am around this woman.
Her core is warm against my groin, and as our kiss deepens, she grinds onto me, prompting me to raise my hips in response.
My hands, which seemed to have gained a life of their own, travel down her neck, grazing her chest towards her tiny waist and stopping only on her lower back, pulling her against me roughly.
“Ahh,” she moans into my mouth. “Y-your Gra—”
I shut her up by kissing her again. Having her still calling me by my title while kissing the hell out of her is just wrong.
“Vincent,” I mumble into her mouth. “Call me Vincent.”
The only answer I get in return is a moan. The short melodic sound ignites a fire deep inside me, burning through my veins and magnifying this desire.
As our hips grind against each other, once again, this time, I can’t help but squeeze her ass. Her soft curves, all in the right places, mould into my hands as I knead her skin.
Her full, round rear is squashed against my hands while her front is plastered to my chest, with her mouth fully locked in mine. Everything in this woman turns me on, even if it is just an innocent look.
“I need to feel you.” My voice comes out low and husky, showing her exactly how deeply affected I am right now.
She hums, and I take that as a yes, letting one of my hands travel up underneath her blouse to caress one breast. My fingers find the nipple under the bra, and I graze it softly. It prickles right away, and I can’t help but growl and pinch it.
“Oh,” she gasps loudly.
Her head falls back, and her eyes roll back right before she opens them wide. My hooded eyes are enthralled by the view of her, letting go of my hands. I could look at her all day long like this, in my hold and moaning in pleasure.
“Oh my god. We need to stop.” She jumps up from my lap and hastily starts to rearrange her clothing.
“Why?” I ask, standing up and closing in on the distance again.
It feels cold without her close to me.
I want more. I need more.
Unfortunately, she takes a step back and shakes her head.
“It’s still working hours. The manor is buzzing with workers running around, and I still have a lot of things to finish.”
“Well, we can change that. I can send them home,” I try with my most seductive voice.
Our eyes lock, and she trembles. If it was my gaze or my words, I don’t know, but I also don’t care. Knowing I am capable of such reactions from her, that I affect her as much as she affects me, is more than enough.
“We–I–” she stumbles over her words before taking a deep breath.
I know the feeling.
For quite a few times already, I have needed to ground myself and take a deep breath so I can regain my posture. That’s how much she drives me out of my mind.
“No.” She stands her ground.
Another thing that turns me on .
While knowing how low she is in the hierarchy that this society has created, she still holds her ground and keeps her dignity. For the likes of me, people often get offended due to being used to having their way. Me? I love it.
It’s refreshing and amusing. But Camilla? Camilla looks hot doing it.
“Fine,” I give in easily. “We do this however you want, whenever you want.”
I never give in easily. What is this woman doing to me?
Closing the distance between us again—this time around, she doesn’t walk backwards—I caress her cheek before whispering, “I’ll let you go.”
“Alright,” she mumbles, still trying to smooth her shirt.
“But,” I start, gripping her chin and bringing her face close to mine, close enough that our noses bump into each other. “If you don’t come looking for me in the next twenty-four hours, little Milla… I may not answer for myself.”
“But–”
“I just think we need to talk about this whole situation properly some other time. When we both have clear minds and know better what we want. I want to know what you want, too.”
“Of course,” she agrees. “But I’ll go back to work now.”
“Of course.” I peck her lips.
Letting her go, she scurries out of the office as fast as she can, leaving me behind in my office with a distracted brain and a raging hard-on.