Page 37 of Freeing Camila

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice gravel-thick. “For trusting me.”

She gave a soft nod, her lips parting like she wanted to say something else, but the words never came. Instead, she looked at him. Really looked at him.

And God help him, that look broke what was left of his restraint.

He knew it wasn’t the right time. Knew he should give her space, let her come to him—if she ever did at all. But there was something in the way she leaned toward him, the way her breath hitched, just slightly, when his thumbs brushed against the apple of her cheeks. The space between them was charged, crackling with something he didn’t dare name.

He inched closer, his eyes never leaving hers. She didn’t pull away.

His eyes searched hers, and he saw the same question there—the same pull.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, low and raw.

But she didn’t.

So he kissed her.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. Her lips trembled against his, hesitant at first—like she hadn’t been kissed in years, maybe ever in a way that meant something. And then she kissed him back.

She leaned into him with a sudden need that undid him completely. It wasn’t desperation—it was something deeper. Something fragile and fearless all at once. And when her hands curled into his shirt, when she let out the softest breath against his lips, he knew he was done for.

This wasn’t just comfort. It wasn’t pity. It was something neither of them had been ready for—but couldn’t ignore.

When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the still night air.

“I know it’s not the right time,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. “But I couldn’t not.”

She smiled faintly. “Me neither.”

And in that moment, with the fire crackling beside them and the past still heavy in the air, Jeeves knew something had shifted. Maybe they were both still broken in places. But something new had started. And this time, neither of them had to face it alone.

CHAPTER15

Little Victories Bucket List No.22: Sleep under the stars

Her lips still tingled.

She sat perfectly still, afraid that if she moved, the moment would somehow shatter, fall apart like spun sugar touched too roughly. Her heart was a wild thing in her chest, fluttering and fierce, and she couldn’t catch her breath—not entirely.

He had kissed her.

She’d let him.

No—she had kissed him back.

The fire crackled beside them, filling the silence with its gentle hissing and pops. It was warm, but she wasn’t sure if the heat on her face came from the flames or from the fact that his mouth had just been on hers, that his breath had mixed with hers, that his hand had cradled her face like she was something precious, somethingworthy.

It was her first kiss. Ever. And nothing in her life had prepared her for what that would feel like.

Not the books. Not the half-formed dreams she’d tucked away, convinced love wasn’t meant for people like her. She’d thought she was too damaged, too strange, too far behind for anything like this.

But he hadn’t looked at her like that. He hadn’t kissed her like that.

He’d kissed her like she mattered.

She blinked hard, staring down at her hands, suddenly self-conscious. Did he know? Could he tell? That she had no idea what she was doing? That the moment had left her shaken, unraveled in ways she hadn’t known she could be?

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