Page 55 of Kidnapped Plus-Size Mate

The question lingers in the silence that stretches. A silence that feels like a rubber band that’s being pulled, and released when both Camilla and I turn to each other at the same time.

“Stry—”

“Cami—”

We burst out laughing in unison.

“You go first,” I offer, but Camilla shakes her head.

“No… What were you gonna say?” she asks, prompting me to face her and clear my throat.

When our eyes meet, my inner dragon is soothed, lending me the courage to progress with what I’m about to say. “I’m truly sorry for everything that’s happened, Camilla. It shouldn’t have been this way. I wanted to do so much more to appease you before I told you what I am.”

A flicker of deep regret passes through the shimmering depths of amber. When she gulps with uncertainty, I take it as my cue to continue.

“But the way things played out wasn’t my intention. And if you’d told me that you never wanted to see me again, I would have accepted it.”

Camilla nods warily, turning her face to the night sky. “Would you have given up so easily?” she asks.

I shake my head sincerely. “No. But I would have respected your choice if I didn’t think you were in danger out there. It’s my duty as your fated mate to ensure your safety above all else.”

The long silence that follows leads me back to the rails to seek solace in the moonlit sky. For a moment, I feared I’d said something wrong.

But Camilla needed me to look away when she admitted, “I’m not angry at you anymore, Stryker. I think I understand what all of this means.”

“Then you know that I wish I could have done things differently, right?”

“I don’t know…” she smiles wistfully. “... I think that tonight is perfect just as it is.”

“Not yet.” I shake my head, drawing Camilla’s attention to me when she frowns. I take a bold step forward, even with my heart pounding in my chest, as I reach out and cup her cheek. When she doesn’t make a protest and instead closes her eyes and her bottom lip whispers open, I close the final distance between us and press my lips to hers.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, in an attempt to reacquaint our lips with the passion we’ve tasted before. When the subtle notes of her cherry lip balm slip through my lips and beckon me to deepen the kiss, I pause and pull away to savor the tenderness of the moment.

Gazing into her eyes and letting her taste flow through me in graceful waves of charged pulses, I ask, “What were you gonna tell me just now?” in a husky whisper as I cradle her cheek, the pad of my thumb smoothing over her flushed skin.

“I—I forgot…” she murmurs, her eyes heavy and her moist lips parted as if the kiss that lingers clouds her mind and turns it to mush. Only her arms are mobile as she slides her palms over my chest, resting her hands on my shoulders.

“Was it important?” I ask, like a tease to draw out her reaction.

Her eyes turn dark, threatening me if I say another word. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

That command is all I needed to hear to be sure that she’s accepted our fated mate bond.

As if I had any reason to doubt her acceptance. Every tingling nerve fiber of mine is a testament to the bond that neither of us can deny.

Chapter 18 - Camilla

“With pleasure…” Stryker drawls, and I’m on the verge of grabbing him with hungry passion if he doesn’t stop talking.

When he finally complies and crushes his lips to mine with a feverish kiss, relief washes over me and turns me pliant in his arms. Moaning and swaying on weakened knees, I fall against his chest as he catches me and keeps me pressed to the rigid contours of his firm body.

My soft curves seem to mold against his hardness, my mind etching every detail as if I were the artist behind the sculpture of his body. Even if I was, I would never be able to achieve such a magnificent structure or manage to capture how extraordinarily strong he is when he lifts me off my feet and guides me to a wall. With my eyes closed and my lips preoccupied, I surrender myself and trust him as wholly as I can.

My back arches off the wall, my body curving toward him in a desperate cry to feel his touch. When he breaks the kiss to give me what I want, I pout like a gluttonous vixen who craves the pleasures of his mouth along with what his hands should be doing.

He chuckles lowly, primally, as if he understands my greediness and relishes in the boost to his ego while he takes his sweet time folding up the hem of my t-shirt.

Each dexterous fold becomes a step toward my insanity while he watches me through hooded eyes and bites his bottom lip. It’s only when a gentle breeze passes that I remember that we’re out in the open, and I gasp.

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