My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 143: All I Want Is You (1)

’This was supposed to be a relaxing experience,’ Greg told himself, but relaxation was the last thing he felt as Cammy’s hands worked their magic—and their torment—over his back.

"When was the last time you had a proper massage?" she murmured, her fingers pressing deep into the knots of tension coiled beneath his skin. "Your muscles are like stone."

Greg exhaled sharply, burying his face in the pillow, his body taut for reasons beyond muscle strain. "I don’t remember. I’ve been... busy." His voice was husky, strained, as he fought against the unwelcome—yet inevitable—reaction stirring beneath him.

Cammy clucked her tongue, her touch both punishing and hypnotic. "That’s why you’re like this. Always stiff, always tense. This isn’t good for you, Greg."

If only she knew.

He bit down on a groan as her thumbs dug into a particularly stubborn knot. The pressure sent ripples of sensation coursing through him—pain laced with something dangerously close to pleasure.

’Sweet torture,’ he thought, barely suppressing a shudder. He willed himself to stay still, to think of spreadsheets, deadlines, anything but the warmth of her hands, the scent of her skin, the maddening way her voice curled around his name.

But Cammy wasn’t making this easy. Not at all.

Instead of finding the relaxation he so desperately sought, Greg felt himself unravel beneath her touch. Every stroke, every glide of her fingers over his skin only fanned the heat coiling in his core. The more of him she explored, the more unbearable his torment became.

When Cammy finally moved on from his back and arms, he dared to hope the worst was over. But the moment her hands drifted down to his upper thigh, something inside him snapped.

In a swift, almost desperate motion, he turned, his hand catching hers mid-stroke. The sudden movement startled Cammy, her wide eyes locking onto his. Greg’s other hand scrambled for the towel, yanking it over his unmistakable arousal before he could truly betray himself.

"D-Did I hurt you?" she stammered, concern flickering in her voice as she searched his face, oblivious to the storm raging beneath his skin.

Greg swallowed hard, his breath uneven. "No," he admitted, his voice rough with restraint. "Quite the opposite." He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to loosen his grip on her. "I think that’s enough for tonight."

Cammy’s brows furrowed. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, worry etching itself into her delicate features.

Greg let out a low chuckle, the sound marked with something darker, something dangerously close to surrender. His fingers found her face, tracing the softness of her cheek as he cupped it gently.

"No, Cammy. You did everything right." His thumb grazed her bottom lip, his restraint hanging by a thread. "Too right."

He let out a shaky breath and pulled away, his hand falling to his side. "That’s why you need to go," he murmured, his eyes heavy with unspoken desire. "Because if you don’t, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself."

But Cammy didn’t move. She just sat there, watching him, her gaze unreadable, her silence stretching between them like an invisible tether. Yet something in her eyes—hesitation, longing, something unspoken—made Greg’s pulse quicken.

Then, slowly, she reached for his hand.

"Greg..." Her fingers trembled slightly as they wrapped around his. "There’s something I need to tell you... It’s the reason I came here tonight."

Her words sent a ripple of tension through him, an unsettling mix of curiosity and dread knotting in his chest. He studied her face, searching for answers, but her expression remained an enigmatic puzzle—one he wasn’t sure he was ready to solve.

She hesitated, lips parting, only to close again as if the weight of her words was too heavy to bear.

"I... I..." Cammy faltered, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

Greg exhaled, his voice softer now, though still braced with restraint. "Cammy, it’s okay," he murmured, gently pulling his hand from hers. "If you’re not ready to say it, you don’t have to. You can tell me some other time."

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, ready to put distance between them before his control frayed any further. But just as he started to stand, Cammy’s fingers tightened around his wrist, her grip firm, unyielding.

"Wait," she whispered.

And just like that, he was caught again—held captive by the intensity in her eyes, by the lingering touch that sent a slow, searing burn straight through him.

"I like you!" Cammy blurted out, her voice trembling before she quickly lowered her head, her ears burning a deep shade of crimson.

Greg froze. Midway through shifting on the bed, he remained suspended in motion—one knee sinking into the mattress, the towel slipping from his grasp, forgotten. But neither of them noticed. The weight of her words hung between them, electrifying the air.

His pulse thundered in his ears. "What... did you just say?" His voice was low, almost disbelieving. He knew what he’d heard, but part of him needed confirmation, needed to be absolutely certain this wasn’t some fever dream born of his own desires.

Cammy refused to look at him, her fingers curling into the sheets. "You heard me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, as if realizing she was exposed, she snapped her head up, her face now as red as her ears. "Why do I have to repeat it?!"

Greg inhaled sharply, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. His mind reeled. ’I think I heard you say you like me... Did I? Or am I just imagining things?’

"You said, you like me. Did I hear that right?" he asked again, his gaze locking onto hers, searching, unraveling her.

Cammy’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the fabric beneath her. "T-That’s right," she admitted, her voice barely holding steady.

Greg swallowed hard, something dangerous and intoxicating curling inside him. He leaned in slightly, his voice dipping into something almost teasing, almost daring.

You like me?" he murmured. "Like how, Cammy?"

Cammy lifted her head, her brows knitting together at Greg’s question. "What do you mean how?" she challenged, but sounding frustrated. "I like you. Is there more than one way to say that?"

Greg held her gaze, his own filled with something deeper, something demanding. "I need to know how you like me, Cammy," he murmured. "Do you like me in the way that makes you crave me?

Do you like me in the way that keeps me in your thoughts at night? Do you like me because you want me—my body and the intimate moments that we share? Or do you like me enough to choose me to be the only man in your life?"

His voice dropped, husky with need. "I have to know exactly what I mean to you."

Cammy swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her skin. Her lips parted, hesitation flickering across her face before she finally whispered, "I like you... and I want you. All of you." She inhaled shakily. "I want your body, your mind, your soul... But more than anything, Greg, I want your heart."

Her breath hitched, and just as quickly, doubt clouded her features. She lowered her head once more, voice barely above a whisper. "But..."

The thoughts clawed at her mind, dark and merciless. ’He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good man. Too good for someone like me. One day, his desire for me will fade. The moment our deal is done, I’ll be nothing but a passing storm in his life.’

A sharp expletive broke through her turmoil, jolting her back to reality.

"Fuck that!" Greg’s voice was fierce, unwavering, sending a shiver down her spine.

Cammy’s eyes widened, startled by his sudden outburst.

"No buts, Cammy," he growled. "The fact that you feel this way, that you’ve finally admitted it—that’s enough for me. Nothing else matters. Not your past, not your doubts, not the mess you think your life is."

He reached for her hands, gripping them tightly, his gaze burning into hers. "As long as we keep choosing each other—every single day—everything else will fall into place."

Cammy’s vision blurred with unshed tears. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the ache swelling in her chest. "Greg... I told you this because I needed to let it out. Not because I expect you to take me."

Her voice wavered. "I have nothing to offer you. My life is a wreck. And even if we get what we want—revenge won’t fix me."

She looked away. "But while we’re in this... I want to give you everything I have left. Even if it’s not enough. Even if I don’t expect anything in return."

Greg cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Whatever you think is broken, I will help you fix it." His voice was raw, filled with conviction. "I don’t need perfection, Cammy. I don’t need you to have it all figured out. All I want is you. Just you. Will you let me in? Will you take me into your life?"

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3.4.2025

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