Page 23 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Chef

I reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "That's where Cam's Comfy Cuisine came from, isn't it? Your mom."

He met my gaze, his eyes filled with emotion. "Yeah. She's the reason I started this company. I wanted to make it easier for people to always have a meal at home with the ones they love."

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, and I squeezed his arm gently. "That's beautiful, Cameron."

He looked away, his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold back his emotions. "It's been so long, but I like to think she'd be proud of what I've built."

"I know she would be," I said, my voice firm. "You've done something incredible."

He nodded, his expression softening as he turned back to me. "Thank you, Ivy."

As we finished cooking and sat down to eat, the atmosphere between us shifted, becoming more intimate. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time, I felt like I was seeing the real Cameron, not the grumpy billionaire boss who had his underlings scrambling to obey his commands, but the man behind the walls he'd built so carefully. There was a vulnerability in the way he spoke about his mother, a tenderness that made my heart ache for him.

After dinner, we moved to the living room, where the city lights twinkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Cameron poured us each a glass of wine, and we sat together on the couch, the space between us charged with unspoken tension.

"This is nice," I said, breaking the silence. "Just being here with you."

He glanced at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "It is," he admitted, his voice low. "But it's also dangerous."

"Why?" I asked, my heart pounding.

He set his glass down on the coffee table and turned to face me. "Because the more time I spend with you, the harder it is to remember why I shouldn't kiss you right now. Why I shouldn't carry you to my room and make love to you."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I reached out, placing my hand on his arm. "Maybe you shouldn't fight it."

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression conflicted. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. I melted into him, my hands tangling in his hair as I kissed him back with everything I had.

The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us and the heat of our connection. His hands roamed over my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and I gasped as he broke the kiss to trail his lips down my neck.

"Cameron," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "I've never been more sure of anything."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He stood, lifting me into his arms as if I weighed nothing, and carried me to his bedroom. The room was as stark and minimalist as the rest of the penthouse, but I barely noticed. All my attention was on him, on the way his hands felt against my skin, the way his lips moved over mine, the way he looked at me as if I were the only thing that mattered.

We fell onto the bed together, our bodies tangled and our breaths mingling. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word deepened the connection between us, until it felt as if we were one person, one heart, one soul.

His hands were heavy and greedy as he explored every inch of my body. I gave just as good as I got, taking in my fill of the hard ridges of his muscles beneath my palms.

It was too much, the ache in my empty core making my walls clench as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. The frantic need for him to fill me was overwhelming.

"Please," I breathed, nipping his bottom lip between my teeth. "Make me yours, Cameron."

His nostrils flared at my words and his eyes darkened with lust, the tenderness in his gaze mixing with something dark and primal.

He took hold of my wrists and pinned them over my head. "You're going to be mine forever." His lips slammed down on mine, plundering my mouth with his tongue. I squirmed, spreading my thighs to cradle his hips. He responded as I presented myself, grinding his hard length against my mound.

The hand around my wrists tightened, squeezing to the point of pain. There were going to be bruises there tomorrow. A surge of heat rushed to my womb. Yes. I wanted to be his. To be owned and used by him. For the whole world to see that I belonged to him.

Cameron pulled back with a snarl. With one quick motion, he ripped my shirt off with one tug. I gasped. Before I could catch my breath, my bra, pants, and underwear suffered the same fate, leaving me exposed with tattered strips of cloth hanging from my body.

As he removed his own clothes, I reached out for him.

"No! Be still," he commanded. A sharp slap landed on my wet puffy lips, just below my mons. I yelped and quickly put my arms over my head again.

"Good girl," he murmured.

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