Camilla slowly raised her right hand. She reached out toward his face. Damon did not flinch. He did not turn his head away. He just watched her hand move closer.

Her soft fingers gently brushed against his forehead. She carefully shifted a loose, dark stray strand of hair away from his face, tucking it neatly behind his ear. Her fingertips lingered for a second on his warm skin. The touch was incredibly gentle and strangely intimate.

Damon felt his heart give another heavy, uneven thump against his ribs. He felt a strange heat spreading through his chest from where her body pressed against his.

But then, the quiet, romantic mood in the room was completely, totally ruined.

Inside Camilla’s mind, a harsh, practical thought suddenly interrupted the soft moment.

"That was close," Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was no longer soft or curious. It sounded like someone who had just barely avoided stepping into a deep trap.

Damon heard her thought clearly. He blinked his eyes, confused by the sudden change in her mental tone.

"I almost felt sorry for him," Camilla’s thoughts continued, her mind returning to its normal, cold, calculated state. "I almost forgot that he is just an arrogant, grumpy man standing in the way of my freedom and my gold. I cannot let a handsome face trick me into feeling soft."

She decided it was time to end the moment and get off the cold floor.

She moved both of her small hands down. She placed her palms flat against the front of his loose white linen shirt. She intended to push against his chest, lift her body weight off him, and stand up.

But as she placed her hands on him, she stopped.

She did not push herself up. Her hands remained flat against his body.

Through the thin white linen fabric of his shirt, she could feel the solid, incredibly firm muscle underneath. His chest was wide and hard like carved stone. She kept her hands resting there longer than necessary. She let her fingers press slightly into the firm flesh.

"Wow," Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice suddenly changed again. A new, highly appreciative tone took over her mind.

"These pectoral muscles are really strong," she thought openly, her mind completely focused on the physical touch. "They are perfectly firm. He definitely works out with those heavy iron swords every single day. The muscle definition is excellent."

Damon stopped breathing entirely.

He lay perfectly still on the wooden floor. He felt her small, warm hands pressing against his chest. He heard her admiring his body in her mind. A sudden, massive rush of heat flooded his face again. His neck turned bright red in the dark room. He did not know what to do. Should he push her off? Should he pretend he did not notice?

Before he could decide, Camilla slowly bit her lower lip. It was a completely unconscious, highly suggestive gesture.

She did not lift her hands away from him. Instead, she began to move them.

Very slowly, she ran her fingertips down the front of his shirt. She traced the hard, defined ridges of his stomach muscles. She felt the steady, rapid rise and fall of his breathing beneath her hands.

"He is built like a perfect statue," Camilla’s internal voice purred softly, her thoughts dripping with dark, unhidden desire. "A very warm, very alive statue."

As her body pressed closer against his during her slow exploration, she suddenly felt something else.

Through the thin layers of her white silk nightgown and his dark grey sleeping trousers, she felt a distinct, undeniable hardness pressing against her lower stomach. It was firm, hot, and completely out of his control.

Despite his cold attitude and his angry words, his male body was reacting naturally to the weight of a beautiful woman lying on top of him in the dark.

Camilla paused her hands just above his waistline.

Her eyes widened slightly in the dark.

Then, a loud, highly excited squeal echoed loudly inside her mind.

"Eeeeeek!" Camilla squealed inside her head, her internal voice sounding exactly like a happy, mischievous teenager.

Damon squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He had never felt so utterly, completely humiliated and exposed in his entire life. He was lying on the floor, completely at the mercy of his wife’s wandering hands and dirty thoughts.

"So he isn’t really dead down there!" Camilla’s thoughts laughed with pure, wicked delight. "My previous theory was completely wrong. He is not impotent at all! What a highly responsive boy."

She shifted her hips just a tiny bit, completely on purpose, to feel the firm pressure again.

Damon let out a very low, strained groan from the back of his throat. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth hurt. He tried to force his body to calm down, but her close proximity made it absolutely impossible.

"He is acting so shy and angry," Camilla thought, her mind forming a very dangerous, very bold idea. "But his body is telling a completely different story. What if I just slide my hand a little bit lower? What if I just take it out..."

That was the absolute limit.

Damon’s eyes snapped wide open. Absolute panic and deep, desperate alarm exploded in his mind.

Before her small hand could move another single inch past his abdomen, Damon reacted.

He moved his right arm with desperate speed. He reached down and grabbed her wrist firmly. His large fingers wrapped tightly around her small arm, completely stopping her downward movement. His grip was not painful, but it was incredibly strong and totally immovable.

Camilla stopped moving. She looked down at him with genuine surprise.

Her eyes met his. He was glaring up at her, his face flushed dark red with a mixture of heavy embarrassment and pure panic.

"What are you doing?" Damon asked. His voice was rough, breathless, and much louder than he intended.

He did not wait for her to answer his question. He needed to get away from her immediately before he completely lost his mind and his control.

Damon quickly placed his left hand on her waist. With a strong, sudden push, he shifted her body weight completely off his chest. He shoved her to the side, rolling her off him so she landed sitting on the floorboards next to him.

The sudden movement was rough and highly ungraceful.

As soon as she was off him, Damon scrambled backward. He quickly stood up from the floor, putting several feet of distance between them. He stood near the window, breathing heavily, pulling his loose white shirt down over his waist to hide his physical reaction. He looked like a man who had just escaped from a burning building.

Camilla sat on the floor for a second. She was completely surprised by his sudden, rough shove.

She placed her hands on the floor and stood up slowly.

She smoothed down the front of her white silk nightgown. She reached up and arranged her messy red curly hair, pushing the thick strands over her shoulders.

She looked across the room at him. Her surprise quickly turned into deep annoyance.

She was a beautiful, highly skilled woman. She had just offered him a moment of closeness, and he had shoved her onto the hard floor like she was a sack of dirty laundry. Her pride was insulted.

"He pushed me," Camilla thought to herself, glaring at him in the dim light. "He actually shoved me aside. What an ungrateful, rude brute. He will beg me for these one day."