Page 49 of Freeing Camila

Jeeves followed her, his footsteps quiet against the hardwood. The glow from the kitchen light faded behind them, replaced by the soft amber of the bedside lamp she’d turned on earlier. Cammie hesitated at the door as if gathering courage.

He slowed behind her, waiting until she turned to look at him. Her expression was a storm of uncertainty and want, vulnerability and trust—and it undid him more than anything else ever had.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, careful.

She nodded, barely. “Yeah. I just . . . I’ve never done this before.”

“I know,” he said gently. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I want to,” she said, surprising them both. Her voice trembled, but her eyes were steady. “Not because I think I have to. Because it’s you.”

Jeeves stepped closer, slowly lifting his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That means everything.”

He kissed her again—this time slower, deeper. No rush. No pressure. Just the quiet ache of something building between them.

When she stepped deeper into the room, pulling him with her, it wasn’t about sex. It was about closeness. About trust. The first time she let someone in, not just to her space—but to her heart.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He reached out, touching her cheek with reverence. “You don’t have to know. I’m right here.”

When he kissed her, it was slow. Gentle. A promise, not a demand. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, sliding under to feel the warmth of his skin. He reached behind his neck and grabbed his shirt, pulling it off over his head. The way her eyes widened, and then the sudden darkening of those same eyes, filled with longing, was utterly captivating. It was in that sudden shift from innocent curiosity to a deep, overwhelming want that her true desires were revealed.

She was beautiful.

Not in the overdone, artificial way the world often demanded. But in the way her eyes softened when she looked at him like she wasn’t afraid anymore. In the way her fingers trembled slightly as they touched his chest, then steadied with growing confidence.

Jeeves stood beside the bed for a moment longer, soaking her in—her flushed cheeks, the nervous rise and fall of her chest, the vulnerability in her gaze that made something crack open inside him.

His hands slid over her waist, across her hips, and down her outer thighs until they found the hem of her dress. He paused, giving her space to stop him. When she nodded, he gathered the skirt in his fists, lifting. Helping her out of the delicate material as his fingers brushed against warm skin, and his breath caught in his throat.

She was stunning—all soft curves and newly exposed skin, and she didn’t try to hide. That alone made his chest ache.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“I’m really not,” she whispered back, almost smiling.

“You are to me.”

Her breath hitched, and that was the moment—the shift. Her guard lowered, her hand went behind his neck, and she pulled him down to her.

They moved together slowly, hands learning, mouths exploring. Jeeves kissed down her neck, over her collarbone, savoring every inch. When he reached for the clasp in her bra, he gave her another pause, another choice. She exhaled and nodded. He flicked the clasp open, and she let the lace drop to the floor.

She was shaking slightly. Not from fear, but anticipation. Emotion. Trust.

It made him slow down even more, taking his time, touching her like she was made of glass—and not because she was fragile, but because she mattered.

Small but perky, her tits had rosy nipples that seemed to call out for attention. He obliged, bending to take one firm peak in his mouth. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him close, holding him to her. As if he wanted to be anywhere else. The scent of her filled his senses, that intoxicating mix of peaches and spice. Moving to the other, he gave it equal attention, licking, flicking, nipping. The sounds she made flooded his ears and made his cock rock hard.

Slowly, he dropped to his knees in front of her, his lips moving down her stomach till they reached the top of her panties.

Another pause. Another glance into her eyes, seeking permission.

She bit her lip, but nodded.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled the delicate lace down over her hips, her thighs, her calves, until he helped her step out of them. He took her in. All of her. Bared before him.

Pure perfection. Pure beauty.

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