Page 27 of Freeing Camila

She didn’t move right away. Her arms stayed wrapped around his waist, cheek still pressed lightly against the back of his jacket, as if letting go too soon might break whatever spell they were under. Her pulse thudded in her ears—half from the ride, half from the man she’d clung to the entire way up.

He turned slightly, his voice hoarse but warm. “You okay, sprite?”

She nodded, then laughed—a soft, breathy sound of wonder. “That was . . . incredible.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You liked it?” he asked, voice low and a little rough, as if her answer was important to him.

She nodded, breathless. “I didn’t know it would feel like that.”

“Like what?” he said, dismounting in one smooth motion and pulling his helmet off before turning to help her.

She pulled off her own helmet, hair tousled and cheeks flushed from the ride, eyes sparkling with adrenaline. “Like flying.”

She slipped her hand into his and swung her leg over and slid off the seat. The gravel crunched under her shoes, her knees unsteady not from the journey but from the intensity of his gaze. Like the only view worth seeing was standing right in front of him.

He led her to the edge of the overlook, where the wind lifted strands of her hair and the vastness of the view stretched out before them like a secret promise. The world below was a breathtaking panorama of misty blues and purples, each layer seemingly folded upon the next, creating a mesmerizing depth. It was no wonder why they called them the Blue Ridge Mountains. Below, the lights of the town blinked to life, but up here, it was just them and the sky.

He stepped closer, close enough that she could still feel the heat of the engine—or maybe it was just him. His voice dropped low, his gaze never leaving hers. “Worth the ride?” he asked, watching her more than the view.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed from the wind, eyes wide with something deeper than adrenaline. “More than worth it,” she said, her voice soft but certain.

He leaned in then, slow and close, his forehead brushing hers as the sun dipped toward the horizon. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was falling. She felt like she’d landed.

His smile deepened, and for a moment, neither of them moved, suspended in the hush of dusk and the electricity of something new. The ride might’ve ended, but she had a feeling the real journey had only just begun.

The space between them crackled, alive with everything unspoken. He reached out first, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting his touch linger just a little too long. Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering up to meet his—dark and steady, full of heat and promise.

They leaned in, slow and hesitant, as if savoring the ache of anticipation. Her lips parted, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with reverence, like he wasn’t just about to kiss her—but memorize her. The world faded around them, sound falling away until all she could hear was the drumbeat of her own heart and the soft shift of his breath as he moved closer.

Just as his lips brushed hers—a whisper of a kiss that hadn’t quite landed—a pair of headlights swept across the lot, flooding the moment in harsh light. The crunch of tires over gravel shattered the silence, and they froze, breathless, blinking at the sudden intrusion.

She startled back a step, her cheeks flushed and lips parted, a half-laugh escaping her lips as if to shake off the spell. He blinked, shoulders tensing for a beat before relaxing into a crooked grin.

“We should head back before it gets too dark,” he said, his voice coarse, hinting at something inexpressible, some indefinable emotion that lingered in the air between them.

The ride back was uneventful, but just as exhilarating. Instead of going back to his cute little house, he dropped her off at her apartment, promising he’d see her soon to check off another thing on her bucket list. He gave her a fleeting kiss on the cheek before rapidly departing, leaving her with an undeniable sense of rejection. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the street that she realized she still held his spare helmet in her hand.

She smiled. It was inevitable they’d see each other again. And maybe next time, she’d get another chance at that fleeting, sweet kiss, a taste of which still lingered on her lips. But this time, it would be a long, deep, and passionate one.

CHAPTER12

Jeeves sat up in bed,his joints creaking with a groan as he swung his legs over the edge, his feet hitting the worn wooden floor. He perched on the edge of his bed, his elbows dug into his knees, and his head was cradled in his hands, each fingertip digging into his scalp. The room was dim, the only light coming from the streetlamp filtering through the blinds, casting long, moody shadows across the walls.

He let out a ragged breath, the air whistling through his gritted teeth as he ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering images of his dreams. He’d had the nightmares, as usual. But thenshewas there. The things he’d dreamed about her, vivid and intense, were far from the stuff of nightmares. Instead, they filled his head with images so explicit they were practically obscene; the lurid details of which had seared themselves into his memory. And it all stemmed from that near kiss.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, more to the empty room than to himself.

She’d looked up at him with those wide, curious eyes—equal parts daring and unsure. She hadn’t backed away. She hadn’t looked confused or afraid. If anything, she’d leaned in too.

And he’d nearly kissed her.

He, who prided himself on control. Who’d told himself over and over again that she was off-limits. He was too broken. It was too complicated. Tooeverything. And still, when her lips had parted ever so slightly and the world had gone quiet around them, he’d nearly given in.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The memory of her scent—peaches and spice—still clung to him. He could still feel the ghost of her lips, light and unsullied, but it had set something off inside him. Something he wasn’t ready to admit had been smoldering far too quickly.

“This is bad,” he said aloud, shaking his head. “This issofucking bad.”

Because the truth was, he hadn’t just wanted to kiss her—he’d wanted to fall headfirst into that kiss, lose himself in it, inher. And that terrified him more than anything.

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