CHAPTER FIVE: God, he’s so big.

Camilla’s POV

His words wrapped around me like a dark promise.

Let me make you forget.

I answered him with another kiss, desperate and unfiltered, savoring the way his mouth claimed mine. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his hand roamed down my side, gripping my hip through the bunched satin.

Heat pooled low in my belly, spreading like wildfire.

I should stop.

The thought flickered through my mind. I wasn’t the type of woman who threw her at a stranger in her yacht suite while her engagement ring was still on her finger. But I was so damn tired of being the woman everyone expected me to be—the perfect daughter, the graceful fiancée, the safe.

Tonight, I didn’t want to be her anymore.

He kissed me deeper, his tongue stroking mine in a rhythm that made my toes curl. His hand slid up my thigh, pushing the dress higher until the cool air met my skin.

When his fingers brushed the edge of my lace panties, I gasped into his mouth. He didn’t rush. He teased, tracing the fabric with light, maddening strokes until I was squirming beneath him.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against my lips, voice rough.

“I know,” I whispered. My hands moved with a boldness I barely recognized, sliding down his open shirt, tracing the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen. Until my palm pressed against the thick, hard bulge straining against his pants.

God, he’s so big.

The thought slipped out in a soft, stunned mutter against his neck as my fingers traced his impressive length through the fabric. He was rock-hard, pulsing under my touch, and the sheer size of him sent another rush of heat straight to my body. I stroked him slowly, fascinated, learning the shape and weight of him.

He shuddered, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Camila…” he warned, but his hips pushed subtly into my touch, like he couldn’t help himself.

I stroked him slowly, fascinated by the way his breathing changed. My palm moved up and down the thick outline, squeezing gently. His body jerked slightly. His hand tightened on my thigh, fingers digging in just enough to leave marks. Every reaction from him made me feel powerful in a way I’d never experienced.

“Damn,” he breathed, forehead resting against mine. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

I did it again, bolder this time, and his control visibly frayed. He captured my mouth in a hungry kiss, swallowing my soft moan as his fingers finally slipped beneath the lace. He stroked me gently, teasing my wetness, circling my most sensitive spot without giving me everything I suddenly craved.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Pleasure sparked through my body in slow, building waves. I kept touching him, obsessed with the way he throbbed under my palm.

The air between us grew heavier, thick with tension and the sounds of our ragged breathing.

He broke the kiss to trail his mouth down my neck, sucking lightly at my pulse point while one finger teased at my entrance. I arched into him, desperate for more, but he kept the pace torturously slow.

I wanted to drown in this. In him. In the way he made my body come alive when everything else in my life had just burned to the ground.

But he still held back.

Even as I stroked him more firmly, even as his fingers made me whimper and soak his hand, he didn’t take it further. His eyes stayed locked on my face, watching every reaction like he was memorizing me.