29
Vincent Hawthorne
“ W hat are you doing here?” I ask my mother, standing in front of me at the manor’s receiving hall, surrounded by luggage and a sheepish Edgar behind her.
“I tried to stop her,” he tries to explain, but I ignore him, continuing to glare at her.
It’s been two weeks since the Hawthorne tribute, and this morning, Camilla called me downstairs due to a “situation I had to deal with.” Imagine my surprise arriving here to find my mother, my brother, and all that she could bring from her house to...mine.
“Christmas is important, and I want to be here at all times so I can organise every detail of it.”
“I don’t–”
“Are you throwing me out? You’ve been living here for a few months already. I miss my firstborn. Can’t I stay a couple of weeks to spend some good quality time with your family? I brought Edgar, too!”
“And I told you it was a bad idea. I was more curious about watching him throw our arses out–”
“Edgar!”
“Fine,” I give in with a sigh, exasperated.
I’ve been tired, honestly. Work has been more intense since the last holidays, starting damn early and finishing up late at night. Sometimes, I barely see Camilla.
Not that she seems bothered by it, which irks me more than it should in all reality. But I know it is because she understands my responsibilities and how much work takes from my time. It has still put a strain on my mood.
“Excellent!” She clasps her hands together with a wide smile. “Maid!”
“No,” I interject. “The employers have names, and you shall abide by those. More, you’re required to say please and thank you every single time.”
She gasps, placing a hand on her chest, “Are you mad? It’s their job!”
“Exactly,” I answer. “They’re not slaves, and they’re not inferior. They’re people who work to gain a decent life, and I want my employees to be treated with respect. Also, no one works in this house from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m., so don’t bother. If you want something, you’ll have to get it during working hours or get it yourself.”
“That’s rad,” Edgar comments with a wide smile. “We should do the same, Mum.”
“As if,” she scoffs. “Call that housekeeper of yours and tell her to get my luggage to my room.”
Turning her back to us, she slowly saunters up the staircase with her back straight and stiff as a stone, and her head held high.
Two days in, and all I seem to be able to do is work. When I’m not, my mother follows me around or watches me like a hawk. She’s doing it on purpose to make sure I stay clear of Camilla, and it is keeping me on edge.
I’ve been holed up in here all day long trying to avoid her completely. Unfortunately, that means I haven’t even seen Camilla today either.
We’ve been reduced to lingering touches and heated visual contact. It’s not fucking enough. My body has been on edge, my mood difficult to deal with, and I’m close to looking like a drug addict during withdrawal.
Not even the long hours with my nose buried in document piles are helping time go faster.
I am skimming through a new business deal when a loud bang on the door startles me. The front door of my office slams into the wall after being opened harshly. I place the papers on the desk and look at the person who just stormed in, interrupting my working time.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, and I’m sorry for skipping the formalities, but I can’t take this any longer,” Camilla huffs.
“What’s going on?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“I cannot be followed around like I’m a criminal, being criticised for every breath I take. If the vase is too much to the left or the right. If my shoes aren’t work-appropriate or my nails are chipped. You are my boss and no one else is, so let’s make a deal.”
Camilla closes the door behind her and walks towards my desk with a purpose, sitting right in front of me.
“I haven’t had a vacation. Ever, ” she admits. “So, I’ll take some until Her Grace is back in her home.”
“Camilla…” I trail off, but she immediately shakes her head.
“It’s not negotiable, Vincent.”
“I am sorry.” I apologise sincerely. “I warned her, but I’m holed up in here, and she uses that to her–”
“I know,” she cuts me off with a defeated sigh. “And it’s not your duty to monitor her around. I am not here to whine and ask you to fix it. She’s your mother, and she has the right to spend some time in her son’s house and do as she wishes.”
“You’ll still stay here?” I ask, hopeful.
I won’t make it if she stays those two weeks away. It’s already hard as it is to keep my hands to myself and stick to watching her.
“I was thinking of heading to my friend’s house, the one from college. She’s been inviting me to stay at hers ever since we met at the reunion. I already checked with her, and she was thrilled to have me over for as long as I need, and I am seriously considering it. It will give me a break from this, and…it will be good for us, too.”
My jaw ticks in reaction to her words. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing in particular. But you have your life, and I have mine. Sometimes, the distance brings better perspectives. Also, being together all the time is not healthy. It creates co-dependency. Individual time is also important. The next two weeks are that for me.”
Co-dependency? What is she aiming at?
Really? Are you that dense, Vincent? She’s hitting at the impending moment when you’ll break her heart.
Fuck.
Leaning back on my leather chair, I look at the ceiling for a moment, gathering my thoughts. I can’t even think properly. I just...
She wants to go, and I won’t stop her, but this will be torture. I have been missing her for these past few days, and it’s only about to get worse.
Better make it count, then.
“Did you lock the door?”
“What?” She frowns. “Are you listening to me?”
“It’s because I am listening that I asked you the question.”
With a shake of her head, Camilla confirms she hasn’t locked the door.
Standing up, I walk towards the double doors and open them, peeking through the hall. As expected, no one is around, so I close them back up and lock them. Camilla keeps looking at me with a frown on her face, trying to figure out what I’m doing.
Once I am right behind her, I whirl her chair around to face me, lean down, and close the space between our faces, asking with a husky tone, “What can I do to change your mind?”
“Nothing,” she stutters after swallowing.
“Are you sure?”
Her high cheeks darken in a cherry shade, but she nods nonetheless. The flush quickly travels down to her chest as it starts to quicken its movements from the speeding up of her breathing. Already panting and I haven’t even touched her yet.
My nose touches her skin, right on the corner of her mouth, before grazing over it, creating a path through her jaw down to her neck, where I kiss her gently. Teasingly.
“I missed you,” I mutter against her skin, and it instantly raises in goosebumps. “I am going to miss you.”
“Don’t be silly.” She laughs nervously, trying to lean away from me.
My hand rushes to the back of her neck to keep her in place, close to me, where she belongs.
“Camilla…”
Her hands fly to my chest and slowly splay over the shirt’s fabric, moving around. More specifically, down.
“Vincent,” she sighs. “Your mum…”
“Let her listen,” I grunt when her hand reaches my belt. “At this point, I don’t fucking care. You’re all I can think about.”
A spark ignites in her eyes at the same moment her hand fumbles with my belt and slacks, springing my dick free. What had been a semi so far turns into a full-blown erection. There’s no hesitation in her expression and certainly not in her touch, making me hiss when her soft skin wraps around my sensitive member.
“Is this what you want?” she purrs, stroking my dick.
Fuck, yes. Not just this. Her. I want her.
My body is burning up, and she’s the combustion. I need her right now.
“Stand up,” I tell her in a hoarse voice.
Camilla graciously stands up, and I make quick work of undressing her. Without thinking much of it, we walk to my side of the desk. I unbutton my shirt and pull my slacks down to my ankles before yanking her to my lap.
“This is so wrong,” she mutters while we kiss.
I’ve become accustomed to her blubbering nonsense often when we give in to our desire for one another.
“But it feels right,” I answer with the same words I always do, countering hers.
She sighs as if accepting defeat, letting go of the small restraints she usually tries to maintain around her. There’s no point, and we both know it.
Hot mixed breaths, wandering hands, and sloppy, wet kisses. We grind against each other, too deep in the lust. Too consumed by each other.
We’re both too far gone by now.
The consequences of this may be catastrophic for my heart. But there’s no going back now.
And with every caress, touch, and kiss. With every stroke against her core, I dive further into the bottomless hole that is this feeling. Because it’s not about lust or desire anymore, maybe it never was, but I am only now figuring that out.
I am consumed by this woman, and there is no one else who could make me feel this way. I am ruined for everyone else.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I groan when she pulls on my hair slightly.
It makes me crazy. Everything she does gets a reaction out of me. A strong one.
That’s why I harshly grip her hips, one of my hands covering that heart-shaped darker stain on her skin that I love so much, and tilt them up, positioning her in the correct alignment. My mouth salivates at the sight of her core, moist and ready for my dick. My body shivers in anticipation, and I bring her down slowly.
I am engulfed by this comforting warmth, not only around my erection, but it stretches over my entire body, surrounding all of me. Sure, Camilla is stunning and sexy, but I have never felt anything this intense. And I’ve had sex often, but this... this is her doing .
“Oh, god,” she moans when her legs touch my hips.
Yes, god! What were you thinking when you decided to create this sinful woman and put her in my path?
My hand keeps massaging the skin on her hips, caressing her birthmark over and over. I’ve never given much attention to it—at least not enough—but as these feelings grow inside me, I can’t help but feel attracted to it. At the same time, her forehead falls against mine, and I groan at the sensation of being buried inside her. It doesn’t get old.
After a moment, we keep still, breathing heavily against each other, trying to contain the monster that is this addiction. But it’s not possible. Not anymore.
“Ready?” I breathe, and she nods weakly. “Because I am fucking your brains out to make up for the fact I won’t be able to for the next two weeks.”