CHAPTER THREE
1912 Words
Their lips met not in a frantic collision, but in a slow, deliberate claim. The kiss unfolded with intention, unhurried yet undeniable, as if he were savoring the moment rather than conquering it. Heat bloomed through her instantly, sharp and intoxicating, stealing the breath from her lungs and leaving her suspended in the space between resistance and surrender.
His hand slid to the small of her back, firm yet gentle, drawing her closer until there was no space left between them. She felt the steady strength of him, the quiet command in the way he held her, and her pulse stuttered in response.
The music grew louder. The air thicker. Her pulse thundered in her ears as his mouth moved against hers with confident precision, testing, tasting, learning.
And when he finally pulled back, just slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his voice was lower now.
“Definitely as good a dancer.”
Camila smiled, though her breathing hadn’t steadied.
“Careful,” she whispered. “You’re starting to sound impressed.”
“Oh,” Jaxon murmured, his thumb brushing slowly along her waist, “I’m far past impressed.”
Camila felt herself sinking deeper into the spell of him.
Jaxon’s touch was electric, not rushed, not careless, but deliberate.
Every brush of his fingers sent a tremor through her, as though her body had been waiting for this moment long before her mind had caught up.
The music outside faded into nothing.
The crowd ceased to exist.
There was only heat. Breath. Pulse.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes remained locked on hers.
That look.
It wasn’t just desire.
It was possession. Fascination. Hunger restrained by the thinnest thread of control.
It made her crave him more.
There was something dangerously intoxicating about the way he watched her as though she were both temptation and prize.
Her lips found his again this time with intention. With surrender.
Jaxon’s answering kiss was deeper, slower… claiming.
His hand slid into hers, and without breaking their connection, he led her away from the dance floor through a private corridor known only to those who belonged.
The secluded room was dimly lit, shadows stretching along the walls like silent witnesses.
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them inside a world of their own.
The silence was louder here.
He backed her gently against the wall, his hands exploring with growing urgency memorizing the curve of her waist, the rise of her hips.
Camila’s fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing the reassurance of his warmth against her.
Their kisses deepened.
Breath mingled.
Clothes became obstacles.
Fabric whispered against skin as they shed layers slowly not in haste, but in anticipation. Each revealed inch heightened the tension until even the smallest touch felt magnified.
Jaxon paused.
Just long enough to truly look at her.
The intensity in his gaze softened admiration momentarily overtaking raw desire.
“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
The words settled over her skin like a caress.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed with surprising gentleness. There was strength in him dangerous strength yet he handled her as though she were something fragile, something rare.
Their bodies aligned, heat meeting heat.
Camila traced the firm planes of his shoulders, the sculpted strength of his chest, feeling the power coiled beneath his skin. He answered each touch with a quiet sound that vibrated through her.
His lips traveled along her neck slow, unhurried learning her reactions, listening to the way her breath caught when he found a place that made her shiver.
Her fingers curled against his back as sensation pooled low and warm inside her.
The world narrowed to rhythm.
To breath.
To the rising tide that made her pulse race.
When he finally drew her fully into him, it wasn’t reckless.
It was intentional.
Measured.
A slow, claiming connection that pulled a sharp gasp from her lips.
The moment felt deeper than physical a merging of dominance and surrender, of power and trust.
Every movement built upon the last.
Pleasure climbed steadily, wave after wave, until thought itself dissolved. Camila clung to him, nails pressing into his skin, anchoring herself to something solid in the midst of the storm he was creating inside her.
Her voice escaped before she could restrain it.
Jaxon answered with a low sound of his own, his forehead resting briefly against hers as the tension between them finally crested.
And when release came, it wasn’t chaotic.
It was consuming.
Afterward, intensity melted into something quieter. Softer.
He drew her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her with surprising protectiveness.
His breathing gradually slowed, matching hers.
For the first time that night, Camila felt still.
Safe.
Wrapped in the warmth of his body, Camila traced slow circles against Jaxon’s bare chest.
His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath her palm.
She tilted her head slightly, eyes curious. “You’re unusually quiet for a man who owns half the south.”
Jaxon raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“What do you mean by that?”
Camila’s lips curved into a faint smile.
“Aren’t you… the Alpha of the Nightshade pack?”
For the first time, a small, amused grin broke across his face.
“I am,” he replied with a smile.
Camila blinked, caught off guard.
“What made you admit it so easily?”
He leaned just slightly closer, voice low, teasing.
“I don’t speak when I’m thinking.”
“Thinking about what?” she asked, tilting her head.
His fingers brushed lightly over her waist.
“You,”
She lifted her chin to look at him. “That didn’t sound convincing.”
“It wasn’t meant to.” His thumb brushed along her shoulder. “I was thinking about how close that drunk i***t got to you tonight.”
Camila rolled her eyes softly. “I handled him.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.”
“And what? You’re going to guard me every night now?”
“If I have to.”
She propped herself up on one elbow, studying him. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“Oh?” Her brow arched. “Enlighten me, Alpha.”
A slow exhale left him. His gaze softened, but only for her.
“You’re stubborn,” he said. “You pretend you’re fine when you’re not. You moved south to run from something.” His thumb brushed her jaw gently. “And whatever it was… it still owns a piece of you.”
Her body stilled.
For a moment, the air shifted.
“That’s bold,” she whispered.
“I’m rarely wrong.”
“You don’t get to analyze me in my own bed,” she finally muttered.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “This is my bed.”
She gave him a playful glare. “Details.”
He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was slower now. Deliberate.
“Stay tonight,” he said quietly.
She blinked. “I wasn’t planning to leave.”
“I don’t mean just tonight.”
There it was.
The shift.
The temperature in the room changed.
Camila traced a slow line down his chest with her finger.
“You fall fast.”
Jaxon didn’t look away from her. “When I decide I want something, I don’t hesitate.”
Her brow lifted. “And what exactly do you think I am?”
His hand moved to her waist again. Slower this time. Testing.
“Not something,” he said quietly. “Someone.”
She held his gaze. Searching.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“That I sing well?” she teased softly.
“That you don’t let people see when you’re scared.”
Her smile faded just a little. “You think I’m scared?”
“I think you’ve been hurt.”
Silence.
Her fingers stilled against his skin.
“You don’t look at me like the others,” she said.
“How do they look at you?”
“Like I’m a prize. Something to win. Something to own.”
His jaw flexed. “I don’t collect trophies.”
“And you don’t share what’s yours,” she shot back, reminding him.
A flicker of something crossed his eyes. He didn’t deny it.
“I protect what matters to me.”
“I’m not yours, Jaxon.”
He stepped closer instead of retreating.
“Then don’t be.”
She blinked.
“Be here,” he continued, softer now, “because you want to be.”
The room felt smaller.
“Do you always talk like that?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re negotiating a merger.”
A low chuckle escaped him. “I don’t negotiate what I feel.”
“And what do you feel?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
His thumb brushed the curve of her jaw.
“I feel like if you walk out that door tomorrow, I’ll regret letting you.”
Her breath caught before she could stop it.
“That’s dangerous.”
“I know.”
“For you.”
“For anyone.”
She studied him again looking for arrogance, ego, control.
Instead, she found something unguarded.
“Why me?” Camila asked softly.
Jaxon didn’t answer immediately. His fingers traced slow circles on her bare shoulder. He studied her face like he was trying to memorize it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered.
He let out a quiet laugh. Not mocking. Not arrogant. Just… real.
“I can’t explain it,” he said. “I’ve tried.”
“Tried?” she raised a brow.
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed her jaw. “Tried to treat you like every other woman who walks into my club.”
“And?”
“And I couldn’t.” His voice dropped. “Can’t you feel it?”
Her breath caught.
“Feel what?” she asked, though she knew.
“This.” He pulled her closer until their foreheads touched. “The way my chest tightens when you look at me. The way I don’t want you out of my sight. The way everything goes quiet when you’re near.”
She swallowed. “You sound crazy.”
“Maybe I am.” His lips curved slightly. “But I know what I feel.”
Silence settled between them, thick and warm.
“Do you feel it?” he asked.
She hesitated.
His eyes searched hers, no dominance now. No Alpha command. Just a man waiting.
“I would be lying,” she said slowly, “if I said I didn’t.”
His grip on her tightened just a little.
“You feel it too?” he asked.
She held his gaze. Really held it. No running. No walls.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I feel it.”
A slow smile spread across her face.
He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.
“Good,” he murmured.
She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm beneath her ear.
“Don’t disappear on me,” he said quietly.
“I’m right here,” she replied.
Her fingers curled into him.
And within minutes, her breathing softened.
She fell asleep in his arms.
Jaxon didn’t. He just held her a little tighter.
- Writer
