Page 46 of Dr. Billionaire's Fake Marriage

From how Mother's face withdraws from me, she fears I am long gone.

I have the same fear on my face whenever I think about Camile. Like Mother, I fear that I am in love with her.

****

Today at the hospital, I can't mistake who I see at the front desk. Camile's mother is begging the secretary to allow her to see me. "Mrs. Howard," I greet and walk over to her. I tell the secretary to excuse Mrs. Howard. "Do you feel alright?" I ask. "You don't have a new appointment, do you?"

Mrs. Howard shakes her head, "I was hoping to see you for a rather personal discussion." Camile's mother doesn't look fit enough to stand for long, so I take her hand and lead her to my office.

“You could have called,” I say. “What did your nurse say about you coming here?”

Mrs. Howard doesn't answer me, but from how she looks at me, I can tell that her nurse doesn't know she is there. I spend the next five minutes trying to tell her how dangerous it is to her health.

“Camile tells me you heard our conversation the other day,” she says.

“You heard it all wrong.”

"Mrs. Howard, you shouldn't bother," I respond, but she cuts me off.

“No,” she counters, “Camile has been worried since the day you walked out of the house, and I think we should talk about it.” I listen to her story.

"She cares about you," she avows with conviction. "Camile cares about you. I don't think she has ever cared about anyone like she does about you. Plus, I am tired of having her at the house every night." I nod and tell my driver to help her return home.

I am not mad at Camile anymore. I wish I could see her, maybe hold her in my arms until the night ends.

I meet Camile at the house when I get home. She comes out of the kitchen in her yellow apron when she hears me. "I am making dinner," she says, smiling. "Thank God you are on time."

I hold her just before she turns back to the kitchen. “I am sorry,” I say. “I am sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “What changed your mind?”

I reply, "Your mother came by the office and told me about the whole thing."

“Mother came by the office?” Camile’s jaw drops. “She is not fit to do that yet.”

Camile scrambles for her phone in her apron pocket, but I hold her hand. "It is okay," I assure her. "Your mom is back home, safe and sound. Your mother cares about you." I tell her. "You know that, right?"

Camile nods as she pulls away from my grasp. "The dinner is burning," she shrieks as she rushes into the kitchen.

The dinner is quiet. Camile sits across from me while she speaks about Amelia's bachelorette night and the funny male strippers they met at the club. "It was crazy," she says, giggling loudly.

I watch her and realize that I am enjoying seeing her laugh and talk about the people and things she loves.

"I missed you." The words fly right out of my mouth while Camile tells me about the days she has spent at Amelia's house.

Camile stops talking and drops her spoon as if she is unsure that she heard me right.

"I missed you too," she replies, and I smile. She heard me right.

I stand up and amble over to Camile's side of the table. She cups my chin with her hands. "I have missed you so much," I say as I taste her lips. Her hand moves from my chin, and she digs her fingers into my hair. I take her mouth hungrily.

Camile sits on my lap; she kisses me, breathing heavily as she takes my hand down to her butt. I am suddenly carrying her; her legs are wrapped around my waist, her weight rests on my body, and her hair gets in the way of our lips.

I carry her to the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed, and watch her take off her clothes while I do the same. She gets naked, but for her blue panties. She comes closer to help me take off my trousers.

She moves on the bed, as if restless. Holding her hair with a rubber band, she beckons me. Her cologne is intoxicating, and my nose picks every scent on her body. Her shampoo, deodorant, the scent from the meal she has just finished cooking… Her hips inch forward as I grab her with impatience. She looks down at my erect dick, and her soft gasp turns me on. She moves in to kiss me, lingering a moment; her eyes plead with mine.

I can see she wants me, but I want her to say it. I want her to scream in my ears that she wants me more than she has ever wanted anything else.

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