My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 227: Just For Today (4)

[~Song Recommendation: Stay - Seph Schlueter~]

Their kiss was wild with hunger, a collision of longing and desperation. It was not the kiss of lovers reunited after time apart—it was far more heartbreaking.

This was a goodbye masked as passion, a sin to the world, perhaps, but to them... it was sacred.

It was their final promise, sealed on their lips: to carry each other in their hearts for the rest of their lives, no matter where the world took them.

Greg’s hands trembled slightly as he peeled the last piece of clothing from Cammy’s body, his eyes burning with reverence and ache.

She helped him out of his own, her fingers trailing down his skin like she was memorizing him.

Then, with a firm grip on her hips, Greg lifted her effortlessly, his mouth brushing against her ear as he whispered, voice thick with emotion, "Wrap your legs around me, baby... let me take you out of here."

She obeyed without a word, as if their bodies were one soul in sync. Her legs clinging to his waist, her arms looping around his neck, drawing him even closer.

Their lips never parted as he moved, slowly ascending the steps of the pool, the water sliding off their bodies like the last traces of hesitation.

Greg carried her straight to the bedroom suite—the one Eve, Ellie, and Grace had transformed into a haven of romance before leaving.

Soft candlelight flickered from glass jars, casting golden shadows on the walls. The scent of jasmine and rose lingered in the air, and pink and red petals lay scattered like fallen confessions on the floor.

He laid her down on the bed with the kind of tenderness reserved for something precious—still tasting her lips, still breathing her in. Cammy’s hands roamed over his back and arms, pulling him impossibly closer. One hand tangled in his damp hair, holding him like she’d never let go.

"I love you, baby... Tell me you are mine, only mine," Greg whispered, his voice cracking as he kissed her deeper, more urgently.

"I am yours," she gasped against his mouth, her words trembling with love. "I love you so much, Greg. I am all yours... my heart will never belong to anyone else, babe... now and always."

When Greg finally let her lips go, it was only to explore the rest of her with his mouth. He trailed slow, reverent kisses down her jaw, then lower, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of her neck.

He kissed her like she was something precious and fragile, like every brush of his lips might be the last. Each lick and suck was deliberate, worshipful, leaving heat in his wake.

Cammy arched into him, a breathy gasp escaping her when his hand found her breast. His fingers moved with a mix of gentleness and hunger, cupping her as though she were made of silk.

He rolled her nipple between his fingers, teasing, coaxing soft whimpers from her lips.

"Greg..." she breathed, her voice filled with aching desire. Her hand slipped downward, instinctively reaching for the thick length she felt pressing insistently against her thigh—hot, hard, and undeniably ready.

But Greg caught her wrists before she could touch him. "Not yet, baby..." he whispered, his voice a dark promise.

He held both her hands above her head and pinned them there, his grip firm but not forceful... controlling, protective, full of yearning. Then he shifted his weight, straddling her hips, careful not to press her down too hard, his eyes locked on hers like he was watching the only thing that mattered.

He reached toward the nightstand drawer and pulled out a soft fabric rope.

Cammy’s eyes widened in surprise, but before she could speak, her lips curled into a mischievous smile. She bit her lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide the shiver of excitement that passed through her.

Greg raised a brow, eyes glinting with amusement and heat. "You like this?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

She didn’t answer with words—just a slow, delicious nod and the wet swipe of her tongue across her lips, followed by another seductive bite.

His smirk deepened. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth, "because I have four of these."

In one fluid motion, he slipped off the bed and began his work.

One by one, he tied her wrists and ankles to the carved wooden posts of the canopy bed. Each knot was snug, but tender—Greg wasn’t restraining her, he was offering something deeper: surrender, trust, a moment out of time where only they existed.

Cammy’s breath came faster, her chest rising and falling as anticipation coursed through her veins. Her body was open to him, her eyes dark with desire. And Greg... Greg looked at her like a man both lost and found.

Greg took a slow step back to admire her—the way her body stretched beneath the soft ropes, how the candlelight caressed every curve of her skin like a second set of hands.

Cammy’s chest heaved, her lips parted, and her eyes burned with want. But Greg wasn’t rushing. No... he wanted her to feel every second of this, to remember the way he loved her with his mouth, his hands, his entire soul.

He started at her foot, lifting it gently and brushing a kiss on the arch before letting his lips linger on her ankle. Then he trailed upward, his mouth soft and warm against her calf, her knee, her inner thigh—each kiss deliberate, teasing, intimate.

But just when she thought he’d finally give attention to the ache throbbing between her legs, he bypassed it with a devilish smirk and continued higher, grazing kisses along the edge of her hipbone instead.

"Greg..." she moaned, her voice filled with longing and the slightest edge of desperation.

He looked up, eyes smoldering with desire and mischief. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his voice like velvet and fire. "I want to taste all of you... every inch... slowly."

He moved to her other hip, peppering it with kisses before dipping down to her navel, his tongue circling it, his breath hot on her skin.

Her muscles tensed beneath him, a tremble escaping her lips.

He continued upward, brushing kisses along the soft plane of her stomach, her ribs, her sides—his hands smoothing over her thighs and waist, grounding her in the intensity of his touch.

When he reached her breasts, he didn’t hesitate. He cupped one with reverent care, his mouth capturing the nipple, teasing it with slow, swirling licks.

Cammy gasped, arching as much as the ropes would allow.

Greg moved to the other, repeating the worship, making her writhe beneath him with each flick of his tongue, each gentle pull of his lips.

She was trembling now, her breaths shallow, her body aching for him.

Still, he wasn’t done.

He lifted his head and looked at her—truly looked. "You’re so beautiful like this," he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Open to me... trusting me... needing me."

Her eyes glistened, not just with lust, but with something deeper—love, surrender, the silent knowledge that even if this moment had to end, it would be etched into them forever.