Anthony – POV
My dad had the worst timing. Apparently, he had just gotten back from a trip and already wanted to talk about some business venture. Like I cared.
I dropped Camila off and headed home. He was in his office, blabbering about finances, investments, and other crap I didn't care about. I walked in and greeted him like he expected. He gestured for me to sit.
"When are you going to be done with this little culinary hobby of yours?" he asked.
I felt my blood boil.
There was no point arguing—I knew that. He told me there was a leisure meeting on Sunday with his business partners and their children, and that I would attend.
I wasn't twelve. I didn't need to be set up on playdates. I had my own friends. But again, I knew better than to push back. I left his office like a bullet fired from a gun and went straight to the home gym. I needed to blow off steam. Prince, my dog, was lying by the weights, so at least I had some company.
Camila – POV
As I walked through the door, I was met by the sound of my mom shuffling papers. I thought it was for a meeting, but no—apparently, Anthony had talked her into buying a cookbook and trying out new recipes.
Which was hilarious if you knew my mom. But she looked happy, and I loved that she was getting along with him.
She asked if I wanted to invite Anthony over for dinner. I told her I'd ask, and when I did, he responded quickly, his usual enthusiastic self. He said he was on his way.
My mom ended up burning the sauce, which Anthony rescued. They looked like a real team cooking together. I went upstairs to change and take a shower. When I came back down, I saw my mom hugging Anthony. Nothing strange—unless you didn't know them. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought she was his mom and not mine.
She patted his head and told him, "Things will work themselves out." She looked so ridiculous on her tiptoes reaching up to him that I had to laugh. I smiled to myself and asked if dinner was ready.
They both beamed and said yes.
Dinner was quiet and warm—peaceful in a way that made the house feel full. Afterward, Anthony and I went up to my room. And by "hang out," I mean anything but.
He kissed me so hard I could barely breathe. His hands tugged at my top, and I let him. I was his for the taking. I lay flat on my back with him hovering above me. His mouth traced down my neck, and I moaned into the feeling. God, the things he did to me.
He sat up and pulled me onto his lap. He stared at my breasts in my bra, his gaze devouring. Then he tugged at the fabric, and for the first time, made an actual attempt to undo my bra. I let him.
As my breasts sprang free, he cupped them gently, reverently, as if they were something he had long imagined touching. My heart raced. I didn't even know where to place my hands.
He slid one arm around my waist and brought the other back to my chest. Then he lowered his head to my left breast and sucked—slow and warm, like a man tasting something forbidden and sacred.
A wave of pleasure shot through me. I moaned and held onto him like he was the only air I had.
He moved to my right breast, his fingers gently pinching my nipple, and I came undone. I came. Just from that.
I was a mess. My underwear was soaked. He noticed the change in me—how unguarded I was, how breathless—and he kissed around my face softly, whispering how perfect I was.
Then, he just held me. Wrapped his arms around me like I was something he'd never let go of.
I needed another shower
Anthony told me he had to leave after my shower he held me and kissed me like he was saying good buy, I knew he wasn't OK even tho he pretend to be ,I would have to figure out a way to get him to open up.
But for now I neded to call Julia