Page 68 of Second Quarter Comeback
Camille: You know what about it.
I stare at my phone, my thumbs hovering over the screen. My heart’s still racing, and every nerve in my body feels like it’s vibrating. That kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was an event. A life-altering, soul-igniting moment. And now he’s acting like it’s no big deal? Like he can just waltz back to his side of the balcony and leave me hanging here, reeling?
The three little dots appear on the screen, showing he’s typing, and my breath catches.
Killion: It was incredible. Perfect, even. But I meant what I said. I’m not pushing this further until you know I’m all in. I’m not going to mess this up, Camille. Not again.
The audacity of this man to be responsible right now.
Camille: So your plan is to kiss me like that, leave me standing here questioning my entire life, and call it restraint?
Killion: Pretty much.
Camille: You’re insufferable.
Killion: You’re irresistible.
I groan, throwing my phone onto the couch, but the vibration buzzes against the cushion almost immediately. I grab it before I can talk myself out of it, his name lighting up the screen.
Killion: Go to sleep, Camille. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Camille: Tomorrow?
Killion: You didn’t think I’d just let you simmer in that kiss forever, did you?
Camille: I don’t know what to think anymore.
Killion: Good. Keeps me unpredictable.
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t pop out of my head. But before I can fire back a reply, another messagecomes through.
Killion: Sweet dreams, baby. I’ll make them sweeter tomorrow.
My phone slips from my hands as I collapse onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers to all my problems. He’s maddening. Confident, cocky, frustrating as fuck. And yet, I’m smiling like an idiot.
Ben hops up beside me, curling into a ball without so much as a glance in my direction. “At least one of us isn’t losing their mind,” I mutter, rubbing his ears.
But even as I sit there, pretending to be annoyed, my lips still tingle from his kiss, and my thoughts swirl with the promise of whatever “tomorrow” brings.
Tomorrow better come fast, because tonight? Tonight is going to be torture.
Chapter Forty-One
Killion
When Killion Calls the Play
I step out of my penthouse, practically humming with energy. A day off. Arealday off. No games, no press, no obligations—just me and Camille. And the best part? She actually said yes to my text. No excuses, no polite deflections,just a simple yes.
I walk down the hall toward her door, my excitement buzzing just beneath the surface. For once, I’m not trying to tamp it down. My hand hovers for a second before I knock, the sound echoing lightly through the hallway.
When the door swings open, she’s standing there, and for a second, the world tilts.
She’s breathtaking. Her jeans fit like they were made just for her, hugging every curve with a natural ease. The soft fabric of her white blouse skims her frame, the flouncy sleeves shifting slightly as she moves, delicate and effortless. Her red hair cascades over her shoulders in loose, glossy waves, the kind that make you want to reach out, just to see if they’re as silky as they look. My breath catches audibly, and I know she notices because her lips curve into a teasing smile.
“Hey,” I manage, grinning like a lovesick fool.
“Hey,” she replies, her tone warm but curious. “So what’s the plan for today?”
