My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 195: Taking Control (1)

Greg stood and gently helped her up, his hand steady at her back as they made their way across the room. Richard had just returned from the hallway, his expression unreadable as he sipped from a glass of brandy.

Greg approached him with calm civility, but there was a noticeable sharpness in his voice as he said, "Thanks for tonight, Father. But we’ll be heading out. It’s been a long day."

Richard’s eyes flicked to Cammy. He didn’t question it. He could still see the lingering distress etched across her face—the paleness, the tension in her jaw, the hollow look in her eyes.

He offered a nod, cold and brief. "Of course. Get some rest."

Aarya chimed in with a warm smile, completely unaware of the storm beneath the surface. "It was so lovely having you both. Let’s do this again sometime soon!"

Cammy forced a polite smile in return, but her chest felt tight, her legs like they were moving underwater. She just wanted to get out of that house—away from Richard, away from the possibility that her entire world had just shifted.

As they walked toward the front doors, Greg’s hand never left her back, steady and reassuring.

But even his touch couldn’t keep her from feeling like the ground beneath her was about to crack wide open.

The moment they slid into the car, Cammy sank into the passenger seat with a long, drawn-out sigh—as if she’d been holding her breath for hours and could finally exhale.

Her head tilted against the headrest, and for the first time that evening, she turned to Greg and offered him a real smile. Not the polite kind, not the practiced mask. This one was raw, tired... but genuine.

"I’m starving," she said, voice soft but lighter now. "Can we get some burgers? Nearest drive-thru is fine."

Greg blinked, surprised, a slight frown tugging at his brow. "Are you sure?" he asked, though a smirk played at the corner of his lips.

She nodded. "Yeah. I threw up everything I had at dinner." She rubbed her stomach gently and chuckled. "I think it cleared my headache, actually. Now my stomach won’t shut up."

Greg gave a low laugh, shaking his head as he started the engine. "Only you would say vomiting helped you feel better."

"Hey, that’s a medical fast. Vomiting could help ease migraine or a tension headache. And as you know, Duncan likes giving me a lot lately," she said, her voice light, though he caught the undercurrent of exhaustion still buried in her tone.

They pulled into a nearby burger joint, the buzzing neon sign glowing through the misty night like a beacon. Greg ordered for both of them, keeping it simple—double cheeseburgers, large fries, and thick vanilla shakes.

Cammy leaned back, her body warming in the glow of the dashboard lights, watching the rain begin to tap softly against the windshield.

By the time they pulled out of the drive-thru, the rain had intensified. Sheets of water blurred the streets, turning the city into a ghostly watercolor.

Greg turned into a nearby park, quiet and almost deserted, and parked beneath a towering oak that offered little shelter but enough privacy.

Inside the car, the world felt suspended in time. Only the sound of rain and the rustle of burger wrappers filled the space between them.

They ate in silence at first, sharing fries from the same container, occasionally brushing fingers.

Cammy chewed slowly, gazing out into the rain, then shifted her attention back to Greg—eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

He felt it before he even looked at her.

Her hand, soft and deliberate, came to rest on his thigh. At first, it was innocent. Just a touch. A grounding gesture. But then her fingers began to move—slow, teasing, deliberate.

Greg stiffened slightly. "Cammy...?"

She turned to him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes burned with quiet fire. "I’m not thinking tonight," she whispered. "Not about the past. Not about what-ifs. I just need to feel something that makes sense."

He reached out to touch her face, concerned. "Are you sure? We don’t have to—"

But she silenced him with a kiss. Gentle at first, but with a heat that built rapidly, overtaking his doubts.

Then she pulled back, breathing hard, and without another word, her hand moved to his belt. The click of metal, the slow sound of a zipper being undone—it cut through the rain and the rumble of the heater like a sharp inhale in the dark.

Greg barely had time to react before she was climbing over the center console. Her dress rode up her thighs as she moved with quiet confidence, settling onto his lap, straddling him fully in the driver’s seat.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Cammy... what are you doing?"

But she didn’t answer. She only leaned in, her mouth brushing his ear as she whispered, "Taking control of my life, even just for tonight."

His heart thundered in his chest. The storm outside raged harder—but inside the car, something far more dangerous was unfolding.

And he wasn’t stopping it.

Greg’s breath caught as Cammy pressed herself against him, the heat of her body soaking through the thin fabric of her dress.

Her bare thighs brushed his hips, and he could feel the softness of her skin—warm, trembling ever so slightly—as she adjusted herself in his lap.

Greg reached down and pulled the lever at the side of the seat, sliding it backward to create more space between them—enough room for their bodies to move freely, without restraint.

The scent of her shampoo, the rain, the lingering trace of her perfume—it all mixed in the small space between them, making the air thick and electric.

She ran her hands up his chest, slowly, deliberately, tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt. Her lips brushed his jaw, featherlight. "You’ve been so good to me," she whispered, her voice low and silky. "So patient. But I don’t want patience tonight."

Greg swallowed hard, his hands instinctively moving to her hips, gripping them as if to ground himself. His pulse was racing, his entire body thrumming with heat and confusion and raw desire.

Cammy’s mouth found his, this time deeper—needy, hungry, commanding. Her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his briefs, brushing over him with a touch that made him groan into her mouth.

The rain pounded harder against the windshield, a rhythm that matched the frantic beating of their hearts.

She reached out for his angry beast, gently pulling it out. Her breath hot against his neck. "Let me forget, Greg. Just for a little while."

And in that storm-drenched car, lost in each other’s arms, forgetting felt like the only thing that mattered.