Page 76 of Ruthless Arrangement

“You’re getting close again,” I observe, watching the flush spread across her chest. “So responsive.”

She nods, beyond words now as sensation overwhelms performance. Her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving crescent marks that sting pleasantly.

“Tell me you want me,” I demand, voice low and commanding. “Say it.”

“I want you,” she breathes, eyes glazed with pleasure. “God, Nico, I want you.”

“Again,” I insist, driving deeper. “Louder.”

“I want you!” she cries, the declaration appearing to surprise her with its vehemence.

“What else?” I press, maintaining the relentless rhythm. “Tell me what else you want.”

She shakes her head, clearly struggling to form coherent thoughts as pleasure builds. “I—I don’t?—”

“You want information,” I supply, voice hardening. “Access. The story. Isn’t that right, piccola?”

Her eyes widen, clarity breaking through the haze of arousal. “That’s not?—”

I cut her off with a particularly deep thrust that makes her gasp. “Don’t lie. Not here. Not like this.” I wrap one hand around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her skin flush beneath my palm. “You think you can fuck your way into my confidence? That I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Fear flashes in her eyes, subsumed by a darker heat as my grip tightens. Her inner walls clench around me, betraying her arousal at this display of dominance. “You’re just as calculating,” she manages, voice strained beneath my hand. “Using me to get to my mother.”

The accusation, so accurate it can only be confirmation she’s seen more of my files than I intended, should anger me. Instead, it triggers something darker, more primal. The pretense of a gentle lover falls away like a discarded mask.

“Smart girl,” I praise, increasing the pressure on her throat while my other hand pins her wrists above her head. “But not smart enough.”

I withdraw almost completely before slamming back into her, setting a brutal pace that makes her cry out. The gentleness of before is gone, replaced by raw possession, each thrust a claiming. My hand releases her throat to grab her hip, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to bruise.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” I growl, feeling her respond to the rougher treatment with undeniable enthusiasm. “To be taken. Controlled. Owned.”

She shakes her head in denial even as her body betrays her, inner walls fluttering around my cock, thighs trembling with impending release. “No?—”

“Yes,” I counter, leaning down to bite the junction of her neck and shoulder, marking her. “Your body can’t lie, Lea. Not to me.”

The words seem to break something in her. She arches beneath me, walls clenching as orgasm crashes through her with unexpected force. The sight of her coming undone, eyes wide with shock at her own response, pushes me over the edge. I follow her into release, emptying myself inside her with a low groan.

For several moments, we remain locked together, both panting. I see calculation returning to her eyes as the haze of pleasure recedes, the journalist reasserting control over the woman. Still buried inside her, I brush a strand of hair from her face with unexpected gentleness.

“We understand each other now, I think,” I murmur, watching her process the implications of what just happened, how her body responded to dominance despite her mind’s resistance.

She swallows hard, voice hoarse when she finally speaks. “That wasn’t—I didn’t.”

I smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead with false tenderness. “Yes, you did. And we both know it.”

I withdraw from her body, rolling to lie beside her on the mattress. She remains still for a moment before turning away, curling on her side with her back to me. The position speaks volumes, an attempt to process, to rebuild defenses, to regain control of her narrative.

I watch the subtle tension in her shoulders, the careful regulation of her breathing. She believes she’s concealing her thoughts, unaware that her very posture reveals everything, how she’s positioned herself to see my nightstand, my phone, the door to the bathroom where my laptop sits charging.

She’s still playing the game, still gathering intelligence, still believing she can maintain the upper hand.I smile in the darkness, admiring her persistence even as I counter it.She doesn’t realize that every move she makes only confirms what I already know: she’s in far deeper than she planned, responding to me in ways she never anticipated.

The mattress shifts as she slips away, her movement quiet toward the bathroom like a cat trying to be sneaky. I roll over with an amused smirk, pulling the sheets up to my chest.She’ll be sore tomorrow, but if she thinks she’s hurting now, the surprise awaiting her is far bigger.

CHAPTERTWENTY

Lea

I stepunder the scalding spray, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth as water hits sensitive skin. Every movement is a reminder. Muscles I didn’t know I had protest, small pains blossoming in unexpected places. I brace myself against the shower wall, unsure if my legs will hold me.

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