Page 112 of Hawthorne

“I admit nothing,” his lips mumble against my skin while his hands slowly travel up my spine in a slow caress as his forehead falls against mine. “It’s torture to have you here and watch you walk around the palace and not be able to touch you. You’regorgeousin that dress.”

Clever, he’s able to steer me off-topic.I’ll bite this time around.

“Thank you,” I whisper back in response to his compliment, my nose lifting slightly just to nudge his chin a little bit.

“I am sorry for my mother. She’s—”

“I know, don’t worry.” I cut him off. “Now, why have you kidnapped me into this…” I stop, finally looking around and noticing the opulent decoration of the room.

Velvet couches, silk walls, and gilded chandeliers. And here I thought the manor was over the top. This palace makes it look like a middle-class vacation house.

I don’t even know what this room is for. It doesn’t seem to be an important or very used division of the palace but keeps up with all of the sumptuosity that I have seen in all other rooms and corridors.

“Because I missed you.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks, making my heart skip a couple of beats.

These are the dangerous words that keep chaining me to him, and yet I cherish every single one of them even if they’re just temporary.

To try and lighten the mood in regards to such heavy words, I taunt, “We’ve just left each other this morning.”

“I’d have you wake up in my bed every single morning if I could.”

Another heavy blow to my heart.

This one forces me to take a step back and bring some distance between us. He frowns, reaching out for my wrist, not letting me step away from him any further. He sure must be tired of my hotand cold, but how else can I approach this? His words make me fall for himirreversibly. In the end, he will still take his trophy wife and maintain his status, and I’ll probably be forced to leave my childhood home just so I can get a chance of avoiding a miserable life.

It would still be miserable, though, to be ripped off my childhood home, even if it isn’tmine.

Even if he chose to end things right here instead of dragging them out, letting me know it couldn’t be continued, I am already so far deep in love with him that I’d already be wrecked.

If by now, I would be miserable, the hindsight of how it will be later on in the future is terrifying in itself. And yet, I am here, walking right back into his embrace, unmoving to the feeling of his fingers caressing my skin.

Choosing to believe him and his words, choosing the impending heartbreak that’s waiting for me, I let go. Because at this point, I have to be able to at least admit it to myself.

There’s no Camilla without Vincent.

I love this man.

I love Vincent, even if we’re just two star-crossed lovers. The kind all authors write about, in such a beautiful, devastating way. Two different worlds that touch for a couple of moments before continuing their route in an orbit that’ll force them away from each other.

“You can’t say these things, Vincent.” I sigh. “It seems you forget that this is just temporary.”

“It feels everything but temporary.” His jaw clenches as his words come out, his arms wrapping around me tighter.

“We need to talk about this, then.”

“No.” With a shake of his head, his hold on me tightens. “Not tonight.”

My mouth opens, keen on continuing this conversation. I secretly love it when he gives in to this less rational side of him,but the clock has other plans. It starts with the famous counting towards midnight, and in the far back, we can hear the voices of all of the guests, shouting the numbers.

Ten...

Somehow, we end up enthralled in each other once again, completely unaware that there’s a world out there. Vincent’s eyes intensely lock on mine as his hand caresses my cheek. At the gentle touch, my eyes close, drinking in the warmth and affection.

Eight...

I can’t get enough of this. I can’t possibly get enough of him.

“We’re doomed,” I confess, frowning.

---