My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge
Chapter 111: I Don’t Want To Remember (1)

Chapter 111: I Don’t Want To Remember (1)

Greg held Cammy close, letting her sobs shake through him, absorbing every bit of her pain as if it were his own. He didn’t rush her, didn’t try to quiet her cries. He just held her, letting her release everything she had been keeping bottled up for so long.

When her tears finally subsided into quiet sniffles, Greg exhaled slowly and leaned back, giving her space. But there was another reason he needed distance—her bare skin against his, the way her body molded into him—it was affecting him in ways he shouldn’t let it.

He was getting hard...

Not now. Not when she had come to him for comfort.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his thoughts elsewhere, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing rather than the slow heat stirring inside him.

But then—

Cammy moved.

Without warning, she turned to face him, shifting onto her knees. As she lifted herself slightly out of the water, the flickering candlelight cast golden hues on her damp skin, accentuating every curve, every droplet that slid down her exposed breasts.

Greg’s breath hitched. His muscles locked as his gaze involuntarily dropped, landing on the soft swell of her breasts now fully bared before him.

His throat went dry. ’Fuck!’

He swallowed hard, his brain scrambling to process what was happening. The heat in his gut coiled tighter, his body betraying him, desire flooding his veins with a force he wasn’t prepared for.

Then—her fingers brushed against his chin.

The lightest touch, yet it sent a jolt straight through him.

She tilted his face up, forcing his dazed eyes to meet hers.

"Do you want me?" Cammy’s voice was low and steady, but bound with something deeper—something raw.

Greg’s lips parted, but no words came out.

His pulse pounded.

His mind screamed at him to say something, to do something—anything.

But all he could do was stare, caught in the gravity of the moment, completely undone by the woman in front of him.

"Tell me you want me, Greg," Cammy whispered her voice a siren’s call, coaxing him into the depths of desire.

Greg swallowed hard, his pulse hammering against his ribs. "I—I want you, C-Cammy. But—"

She silenced him with the press of her finger against his lips, her touch featherlight yet commanding.

"Shh... No buts."

And then she leaned in, her breath mingling with his, closing the space between them until her lips brushed against his in a kiss so soft it was almost hesitant—almost.

Greg froze, caught between the warring emotions inside him. But when she pressed closer, straddling his lap, her body slick and warm against his, instinct took over. His hands found her waist, gripping just tightly enough to steady her as he deepened the kiss.

But then, as much as he wanted to lose himself in her, something wasn’t right.

With effort, he pulled back, his breathing uneven. "Wait—Cammy. What’s going on? You said this—we—would never happen again. That it was just for show, just on paper." His brows furrowed, searching her face for an answer.

Cammy averted her gaze, staring down at the water as if the answer lay within its rippling surface. Her shoulders slumped slightly before she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I just... I don’t want to think about Duncan. I don’t want to remember what happened today." She hesitated, inhaling sharply as if summoning the courage to admit the rest. "I want today to be about you and me. I want to remember this instead."

Greg’s chest tightened. The raw vulnerability in her words struck him harder than he expected.

Without warning, he moved.

In one swift motion, he lifted her from the water, ignoring her surprised gasp. His grip was firm, possessive as if daring the world to take her from him.

"Then let me do this right," he murmured, his voice dark and full of promise.

Her wide eyes locked onto his as he carried her from the tub, setting her gently on the cool bathroom tiles. He reached for a towel, running it over her damp skin with slow, deliberate strokes, his touch reverent, his eyes never leaving hers.

And then, without hesitation, he scooped her up again—this time not to dry her, but to claim her.

With purpose, he carried her out of the en suite, straight to his bed, where he intended to replace every cruel memory with nothing but him.

Greg lowered her onto the bed with the utmost care, as if she were something delicate—something precious. His body hovered over hers, his weight supported by his left arm and leg, creating just enough space to admire her without breaking the tension that crackled between them like a storm waiting to break.

With the back of his hand, he traced a slow, deliberate path across her skin. First, the curve of her cheek, then the gentle arch of her brow. His fingertips glided beneath her eye, down the bridge of her nose, before lingering at her lips.

Soft. Warm. Tempting.

"Such a beautiful sight," he murmured, almost to himself, as if the words had escaped before he could stop them.

Cammy caught his hand, her fingers curling around his. "Kiss me," she whispered, her voice streaked with something between longing and desperation.

But Greg silenced her with a single finger against her lips, mirroring what she had done to him before. His smirk was slow, teasing. Payback.

"Shh... let me take my time admiring you, Cammy. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you."

His hand continued its unhurried exploration—gliding from her face to her throat, pausing to feel the flutter of her pulse beneath his fingertips. Then lower, tracing the graceful slope of her shoulder before skimming down her side. He avoided the swell of her breasts on purpose, instead drawing slow, lazy patterns along her ribcage, making her shiver.

A gasp parted her lips when his fingers reached her thigh, teasing the sensitive skin there before grasping her left leg, and gently spreading her open. His left leg pressed against her right, parting her even further as he settled between her thighs, his presence overwhelming, possessive.

Their eyes locked—an unspoken challenge, a promise, a surrender.

And then, finally, he descended, capturing her lips in a kiss that was neither rushed nor gentle—it was deep, consuming as if he was imprinting himself on her soul.

Cammy melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to be lost in him.

But even as she drowned in Greg’s touch, even as her body responded to his every movement, her mind betrayed her.

A shadow lingered in the corners of her thoughts.

Duncan.

And no matter how much she wanted to erase him... he was still there.

’Stop it, Cammy!’ her mind screamed. ’He doesn’t deserve you. He never did. He never loved you—he only used you.’

The words echoed in her head like a desperate mantra, a plea to banish the ghost of Duncan from her thoughts.

Yet, despite her determination, she felt the warmth of tears slipping from the corners of her eyes, trailing down her temples.

Greg noticed...

He pulled away, his lips leaving hers as he leaned in and—without hesitation—licked away the tears staining her skin.