Page 78 of Red Hot Harmony

Was she kicking me out?

There was a long moment of hesitation. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob and I wasn’t sure if she was going to ask me to leave or simply shut the door so we could have a conversation without anyone hearing us. Although it was doubtful there’d be paparazzi camping around the corner at four in the morning considering all the road closures and more pressing news to be covered than Dante Martinez visiting his girlfriend’s house.

I took advantage of this beat of uncertainty that bloomed between us.

I nudged the door closed and slowly pressed Camille’s body against it. She didn’t fight me when our gazes met.

“I’m sorry for not showing up,” I whispered into her ear, then brushed my lips over her temple. “I’m sorry for making you doubt me...doubt us. Doubt what we have. I know I hurt you. I know you’re upset. I know without me, your life would be easier, but my life without you...it would be empty. Please, let me make it up to you.”

“This is blackmail,” she said, defiance infused into every word.

My hand rested on the curve of her waist, right above her hip bone. “No, it’s not.” I took her chin and tilted her face up, then caressed the corner of her mouth with my lips. “This is.”

There was a slight movement, one form shifting against the other. She arched into the kiss when I deepened it.

It wasn’t gentle or soothing. It didn’t need to be, because I already knew her.

The world had suddenly gone fluid and dark and problem-free. Yes, there was still this heavy feeling, a sense of failure somewhere at the back of my head, but at this moment, that was insignificant.

Unimportant.

On hold.

The entire universe had clicked together, just like it always did whenever Camille was around, and it was just me and her and the slide of two bodies and the tangle of limbs. Our mouths battled for control roughly. The next thing I knew, she bit on my bottom lip. She hadn’t used her teeth on me before. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d enjoy those types of games, but I didn’t mind. I thought I deserved to be punished for the way I’d made her feel today.

I welcomed the sharp flash of pain that danced up and down my nerve endings.

“You don’t get to fuck up and then make it up with sex,” Camille whispered deliriously as I pushed her harder against the door. My hands pulled up her nightgown, baring her legs, revealing her skin.

“When I said I’d make it up to you, I didn’t mean sex.”

“Then why are we doing this?” Her small palms slammed into my chest. Not hard, but the intent was clear.

I drew back slightly, readying myself for the worst, her gown still in my fists. I didn’t understand any of this—whatever was happening here right now. I craved her every second of every day and because I couldn’t have her whenever I desired, the need had me all wrung out and light-headed and sick to my stomach from withdrawal.

“Because you want to,” I said, my voice a soft rasp against the darkness of the living room.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Tell me you don’t. Tell me you didn’t like what we did last weekend at my place and then in your office. You fucking burn for me the same way I burn for you.”

She reached up for my hair, threaded her fingers through it, tugged me down to meet her mouth.

We were kissing again, our tongues and hands moving urgently, our breaths so loud, I thought Camille’s neighbors would surely hear us.

“We’re going to have sex,” she murmured between her gasps. “Angry, intense sex. And then you’re going to leave because you need to be with your friend and I’m not ready to forgive you.”

“Deal,” I agreed without hesitation, then slipped both hands behind her to cup her ass.

She felt wonderful, soft and tight and hot all at once. It was as if I’d been gifted a few minutes in paradise before going back to where I’d come from—Hell. And those minutes...oh, those minutes would be used up giving her exactly what she’d asked me to give her.

The next thing I knew, Camille’s legs were locked around my hips and we were on the way to her bedroom. My foot hit something as I maneuvered us around the furniture. A coffee table maybe. It was hard to tell with my attention concentrated solely on Camille’s face.

A couple of bruises?

It was totally worth it.

We didn’t make it to the bed. There was a particularly empty wall that beckoned me the moment I stepped over the threshold and I pressed her against it.

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