He placed his lips on my shoulder and started kissing down my arm. He was right. I was scared. I was so, so afraid. Yet a terrible part of me wanted him to continue. I was turned on and frightened, ready to run, ready to fight, ready to grab him and kiss him, devour every part of him. I didn’t know what was going on, but I was stuck in a cage with something that might or might not harm me, that might give me everything and leave me with nothing.
His lips came back up my arm and across my collarbone. Slowly. Very slowly. The slowest, softest kisses I’d ever felt. Then his mouth edged down my chest. I was sure he could feel my heart underneath, pounding wildly. With his hand, he pulled down my top and bra and exposed my right breast. My nipple was already hard and now puckered in anticipation. His lips circled it, then his warm tongue lashed it gently, teasing, tempting. He let out a small sigh then tugged at my nipple ring with his teeth. The pleasure traveled along my nerves like lightning strikes.
I couldn’t swallow. I felt like I was drowning under his touch. “Camden, please…”
Please stop, I was thinking. This isn’t right. It feels right and it feels wrong but it isn’t right. There’s a motive and it isn’t lust. It isn’t lust. It’s revenge.
Revenge never felt so good.
He nipped at me, and my back arched. A low moan escaped my lips. I wanted him. I wanted the person that didn’t exist. I wanted the wrong thing.
I sat up straight and pushed his shoulder back. He slowly raised his head. His eyes were calculating. His mouth twitched up in an unbecoming smile that chilled me despite the fire.
I pulled up my shirt and edged away from him. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“No? And why is that?”
“Because…you’re blackmailing me. You threatened to kill me the other night. I’m helping you steal the mafia’s money and start a new life and…we don’t need to make this any more complicated than it already is.”
He looked down at his hands where he was tracing small patterns on the surface of the rug. “Do you know what else I think you should feel, Ellie? Aside from fear?”
“What?” I eked out in an exhale, my body tensed.
“Humiliation.” His eyes glittered like a cat before the pounce. “Just like you humiliated me.”
Shit. I had to play my cards right here or things were going to get very messy, very fast.
“I already feel humiliated, Camden. You beat me at my own game. You set me up to fail. I got caught because I only saw what I wanted to see. I was following my ego. I don’t have your money. I’m sitting here with you and not because I want to. Because I have to.”
“Because you chose to.”
“And it’s humiliating,” I admitted, pounding the words out like a stone.
He observed me for a few silent seconds. I could see the wheels of his brain turning, see him fighting something behind those eyes, something deep inside. He wanted to make me feel like he felt. He wanted to humiliate me so badly. To make me feel small, to make me feel weak, to make me feel helpless. Just blackmailing me wasn’t enough. He wanted to do something that would really make me understand. I just prayed he wouldn’t try it. That he would fight those demons and win. Because the moment he’d try and force me to do something I didn’t want to do, I’d be more than humiliated. I’d be ruined. And I’d never be able to look at his face feeling there was someone in there worth rooting for. Despite everything, I wanted to like Camden.
He leaned in closer to me, getting to his knees. The wall was behind me, and beside that, the fire. I was cornered, trapped. I was powerless, helpless. I could fight back and maybe win. Maybe save myself from him. But I wouldn’t save myself from my fate, the fate he set for me.
The revenge burned within him. He looked like a man possessed. He put his hand out for my face, his fingers contorted, like he was ready to grab me by my hair and force me to the ground. Like he wanted to cause me pain.
I looked him straight in his eyes, trying to see the good person I believed was still in there. The man who had called me rough and sweet and sad. The one who I’d stare up at the stars with. The one who believed that letting go and moving on was the better alternative to making other people pay.
The good person that I wasn’t.
His hand paused in the air, inches from my face, and shaking now. Was it with rage? Was it with control? I was holding my breath in this thick atmosphere, waiting for his next telling move.
A flash of clarity sparked in his rigid features. His hand came down to my cheek where he cupped my face. His hand was very cold, but it was gentle. And it meant me no harm.
“Good night, Ellie,” he said, clearing his throat. His eyes were wet, his brow furrowed in wild concern. “I think I’ve had too much for today.”
I watched him, unblinking, unmoving, unable to breathe, until he removed his hand and got unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled across the living room, bumping once into the coffee table and then into the wall, then finally disappearing down the hall. His bedroom door closed with a slam.
A rush of air flowed out of lungs and the feeling came back into my fingers. I’d been clutching my hands so tightly together that my nails had dug into my palms.
I grabbed the throw blanket from the couch and huddled up by the fire until it went out. It was the only warmth left in the house.