Page 25 of Hawthorne

Close.So close.

The warmth of his lips burns my skin, and I prepare for the impact of this kiss and all of the consequences that come with it.

Woof. Woof.

Primrose’s bark from my bedroom brings both of us back to reality.

The duke places his forehead on mine with a defeated sigh while I pant. We were just about to…kiss.

Realisation sets in, and I abruptly stand and flee the kitchen.

“Camilla, wait,” I hear the duke call, but I ignore it, locking myself inside my bedroom.

8

Vincent Hawthorne

Fucking hell.

What came over me?

Camilla has always sucked me in ever since we were kids, but I was hoping to have more self-control now that I’m an adult.

I was wrong.

The girl has been doing everything perfectly so far. Several tasks need daily attention, from cleaning and cooking to fixing or gardening and taking care of animals. And yet, every time I ask about one of those dozens of tasks, Camilla has either taken care of it, directed someone to do it, or is already on top of it.

She may not do it all herself but is quick to have someone do it. I expected it from the beginning, but fuck, it still amazes me.

The independence that comes with her takes a huge toll off my shoulders since taking over all my aunt’s properties and business has taken most of my time.

And the food…After living most of my life with a dull monotony of these old and conservative methods, the same tasteless food that my mother so much appreciates, all thedifferent dishes that Camilla chooses feel like a drop of honey after an extremely sour piece of food.

Dinner was perfect. I loved it.

That is why when my mother decided to degrade the hard work she had put into it, I was oddly affected. A raging anger and need to protect Camilla came over me. It had never happened, especially not against my mother.

But after three decades of smothering behaviour from the Duchess of Hawthorne, I’ve had enough.

It irked me so much watching her do someone else’s job, too. Watching her rushed and harsh movements made it visible she was nervous or stressed—a clear consequence of that dinner. It was probably the way she found to deal with her mother’s unpleasantness. A way to unwind.

But when I heard her stomach growl…I went bonkers.

It was supposed to be an innocent act, but of course, through all her innocence, watching her eat a bloody piece of dessert became the most erotic moment of my life.

It was enough to send a load of tension to my body. The kind that won’t leave for anything. The kind that keeps sending these twisted thoughts straight into the forefront of my attention.

The sight of watching her suck her finger…and picturing my finger instead. Or even…

“Fucking hell,” I mutter when I finally take the last clothing piece off of my body and enter the cold shower.

That’ll do it.

How do her lips taste? Will they taste as good as I imagine? Will it be as intoxicating as her scent is?

That woman is sexy without even trying. The ingenuity and kindness she holds in herself makes it all harder for me, in every fucking sense of the word. The urge to fuck the innocence out of her is getting greater and greater by the day.

I have no fucking idea how long I will be able to resist her. This self-control was doomed from the start. I’ll snap, eventually.

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