Chapter 1: Sparks Under Canvas
The summer heat clung to Camila’s skin like a lover’s breath as she adjusted the final stake of the tent by the serene, glassy lake. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands sticking to her sweat-slicked neck, and her tank top hugged her curves, damp with perspiration. Martín, all lean muscle and sly grins, watched her from a few feet away, his eyes tracing the lines of her body with an intensity that could ignite the dry grass beneath them.
'Damn, Camila, you wield that mallet like you’re punishing the earth itself,' Martín teased, his voice a low, playful drawl as he leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his bare chest. A sheen of sweat glistened on his tanned skin, making him look like some bronzed god of mischief.
Camila straightened up, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, and shot him a sharp look, her full lips curling into a smirk. 'If I’m punishing anything, Martín, it’s your lazy ass for just standing there gawking. Pick up a pole or I’ll make you sleep on the rocks tonight.'
He chuckled, pushing off the tree and sauntering over with a predator’s grace. 'Oh, I’d rather sleep on something much softer,' he murmured, his gaze dropping to her hips before flicking back up to meet her fiery brown eyes. 'But I’ll behave… for now.'
Camila rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the heat creeping up her cheeks. She turned back to the tent, bending over to secure the last corner, fully aware of the view she was giving him. The tension between them had been simmering for weeks—stolen glances, sharp banter, and the kind of chemistry that could burn down forests. Here, alone by the lake with nothing but the whisper of the wind and the distant croak of frogs, that tension felt like a live wire.
Martín stepped closer, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned down to ‘help’ with the tent. 'You know, this canvas isn’t the only thing getting tight around here,' he whispered, his voice dripping with suggestion.
She spun around, her chest brushing against his, and fixed him with a glare that was equal parts challenge and desire. 'Keep talking like that, Martín, and I’ll make sure you’re pitching more than just this tent.' Her tone was biting, but her eyes betrayed her—dark, hungry, and daring him to push further.
He grinned, unfazed, and reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her jaw. 'Oh, I’m counting on it, reina. Question is, can you handle the heat, or are you all bark and no bite?'
Camila’s laugh was sharp and dangerous as she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until their lips were a mere breath apart. 'Boy, I’ll bite so hard you’ll be begging for mercy.'
The air crackled between them, the scent of pine and sweat mingling with raw, unspoken need. Martín’s hands found her waist, gripping with a firmness that sent a jolt through her. She could feel the hard press of him against her thigh, and her own body responded, a rush of warmth pooling low in her belly. The lake shimmered behind them, reflecting the last golden rays of the setting sun, but all they saw was each other—two forces of nature about to collide.
As their lips crashed together, hungry and fierce, Camila’s hands roamed his back, nails digging into his skin. Martín groaned into her mouth, his grip tightening as he backed her against the tent, the fabric rustling under their weight. The world narrowed to the heat of their bodies, the taste of salt on their skin, and the promise of something wild and untamed just moments away.
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