And then he kisses me…

CORRUPTING CAMILLE

Camille

“You violated every boundary I had,” I whisper, chest heaving, breath ragged. “And then you vanished, left me hanging, waiting for your next strike.” 

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even fucking blink. Just stands there, impossibly still, impossibly close. His silence is louder than any words could be, maddening, deafening, cruel. “You left me wondering,” I choke out, teeth clenched tight, shame burning hot in my chest. 

Don’t fucking cry, Camille. 

“Wondering if you’d destroyed another man’s life because of me. Wondering what other chaos you had planned. Wondering if you…if you were with Ivy…”

God. And there it is. The ugly truth ripped out, bleeding raw and bitter between us. Jealousy, hot and sickening, tangling in my chest, clawing up my throat until it burns like acid. The name hangs heavily in the silence, the echo of it shattering what little pride I have left. I force myself to look at him, to meet those ruthless, unforgiving eyes and ask the question tearing me apart. 

“Were you?” I’m frozen, vibrating under my skin, every breath snagging in my throat.

He cups my face with those big, brutal hands, calloused palms against my cheeks, thumbs brushing softly under my eyes like I’m some fragile, precious thing instead of the chaos he made.

He leans in until his breath is my breath, his heat a weight I want to be smothered with. “Ivy doesn’t exist,” he rasps quietly, voice raw and stripped bare, like each word costs him something he’s not ready to lose. “No other woman fucking exists, Camille. There’s only you. You haunt every goddamn breath I take…every second, every thought.”

And then—

He kisses me. 

Slow, God…so achingly slow. 

Deep. 

Possessive. 

Perfect. 

His mouth moves over mine like he’s imprinting himself on my lips, like he’s relearning a language he’s been forbidden to speak, tasting, feeding off all my fantasies, all my dark secrets of him. His kiss isn’t gentle, it’s restrained, anchored by control that threatens to snap with every careful stroke of his tongue, every soft bite on my bottom lip. 

He kisses me like he’s breaking something open, something forbidden, something desperate, and pouring himself inside. His tongue slips past my lips with a groan that vibrates through my entire body, lighting my blood on fire. 

He kisses me slowly, deliberately, exploring every corner of my mouth, savoring every quiet gasp, every needy whimper. He tastes intoxicating, like whiskey sipped straight from the bottle, burning and addictive, impossible to quit. Every stroke of his tongue, every careful scrape of teeth against my lip drags me further beneath him, until I’m drowning willingly in the wet heat of his breath, in the rough glide of his mouth. 

There’s no rush, no roughness, only the unbearable ache of surrender as he takes his time tasting me, drowning me, making me forget everything but him. And then his hands move, cupping my jaw, thumbs stroking gently over my skin as he deepens the kiss, presses closer, closer, until there’s nothing left between us but that damn towel and my crumbling pride. My fists tighten desperately in the cotton at his hips, holding on for dear life as my defenses shatter completely. 

His kiss is a threat whispered softly. Etching his name into my body one breath at a time. Reminding me who I let inside me. Who I still want inside me. His lips move against mine like sin incarnate, slow, decadent, grinding my self-respect into dust. He bites gently at my bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue, coaxing a whimper from me I don’t even try to stop. Because I need this. I need him. 

When he finally pulls back, I’m wrecked. Gasping. Barely upright. My lips are swollen, wet, ruined from his mouth, my panties soaked through from a kiss that shouldn’t have gone anywhere near that deep. He doesn’t move far. Just enough to look down at me, really look, like he’s proud of how undone I am. 

“I’ve missed you too, Muñequita,” he murmurs, low and guttural, the kind of sound that doesn’t just reach your ears, it sinks into your bones, steadies things you didn’t even realize were splintering. But then he speaks again. And this time his voice is darker, coiled tight with threat and hunger, wrapping around my throat like a promise I’m not sure I’ll survive. “But if you show up again wearing his ring, Camille…” He leans closer, mouth brushing mine, a featherlight caress with a razor-sharp edge, every syllable electric, possessive, hungry. “I’ll buy a billboard right outside his window, show him and the whole fucking city exactly how pretty you look when I’m buried deep inside you.” My stomach drops. My pulse pounds so hard I can barely think straight. And all I can think is… God help me, I want it. 

“Take. It. Off.”

---

Authors Note: Kane’s intensity is unapologetic, his possessiveness relentless, and Camille’s surrender is liberating and exquisite. Can’t tell you guys enough how much I love these two! If you’re reading…thank you and I hope you’re enjoying their journey!

If you’re not….what are you waiting for…?

Download your ARC right the fuck now and get Corrupted! https://booksirens.com/book/KZQKREN/MDQRNVK

Francette 🖤