Page 30 of Renegade Ruin

And I’m addicted.

Every part of me knows I shouldn’t follow her out of this bathroom. She doesn’t hold the key to fixing the shit show that is my life. Hell, if anything, she’s the catalyst making it worse. Which is exactly why I absolutely shouldn’t be considering taking her up on her offer.

But when in the last four months have I done what I should?

I roll from the floor onto my feet and clear the doorway in two easy steps. When I enter the room, Willow is standing beside the king size bed, hands twisting in front of her. Her gaze sweeps over me, full of heat, with apprehension billowing in waves.

I take a predatorial step toward Willow, and then another, until she cranes her neck so her stunning blue eyes can meet my gaze. Her hands fall to her side and I take another step forward. The faint outline of her nipples straining against the fabric of her shirt catches my attention before my chest meets hers. She sucks in a breath, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

Willow may have decided she’s all in for one night, but she doesn’t know what she’s asking of me. I’m not the man she remembers. I can’t be. But one night. No strings attached. Ataste of the freedom I experienced for a split-second on that plane. I can be that man.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I give her one more chance to walk away, but more than that, I need to hear her say it. I need her to give me permission. Because if I touch her, all bets are off. There isn’t a flight attendant or a plane landing to stop me this time. If she says yes, I’m going to take what I need. I’m aware how selfish that makes me. But if what she says is true, she needs it as much as I do.

Willow is silent for a beat, then gives her reply by way of nodding.

My hand snakes up, hooking around her neck, and my thumb traces her jaw. Tugging her lower lip from where it’s still caught between her teeth, I growl. “Words, Willow, I need you to tell me you understand what you’re asking me for.”

“I want one night.” She nuzzles into my palm and whispers, “Forget everything else with me.”

My heart pounds against my ribcage as my eyes search hers, begging, pleading for her to understand. “I won’t be gentle.”

Her hand coversmine and pushes it down, forcing my fingers to wrap around her throat. Swallowing hard against my palm, her lips tip into a wicked grin. “I’m banking on it.”

Fuck. I don’t deserve her taking care of me. But I’m an asshole—a greedy prick—and there’s no way in hell I’m walking away now.

My dick twitches in agreement. Contrary to what the tabloids have reported, I haven’t been with a woman since before the crash—specifically the woman in front of me nearly a year ago.

Willow rocks up onto her tiptoes and ghosts her lips over mine. “Lawson.”

Lawson. No longer Bishop. And I remember what she said—this is goodbye.

I’ve never hated my last name so much.

“Stop thinking and fu?—”

It’s all the encouragement I need. I crash my lips against hers.

Inhaling, she eagerly wraps her arms around my waist, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss so I can taste her silent plea to deliver everything she’s asked of me. An involuntary moan tears from my throat, and I drop my hands to grip her hips before running them over the fabric of the skirt that could bring grown men to their knees, down to the curve of her perfectly rounded ass.

A growl rips from my chest. “I’ve told you what this skirt does to me.”

“I remember you saying something about them once. Can I tell you a secret?” She smiles against my lips and I nod, a part of me desperate for her to return the confidence I’ve given her. Willow reaches up and tugs me down so her breath caresses the shell of my ear as she whispers, “I wore it for you.”

The little minx. The joy in her voice cripples me. It might not have been any sort of declaration like I’ve made tonight, but it proves one thing. Willow York has been thinking of me.

“Fucking hell.” I dig my fingers into the offending fabric. “I should take you over my knee for the way you made my dick stand at attention for the majority of that flight.”

“You wouldn’t.” She scoffs playfully, but pulls back enough to look to see just how serious I am.

In both our nights together, I didn’t give into my need for control. I was just happy to count the number of times I could make Willow come on my face and cock. Now, though, the very thought of losing control has my skin crawling.

A mischievous grin tips my lips, and I lower my voice to just above a sultry moan. “Oh, I absolutely would. I’d love to see your perfect flesh reddened by my hand. But if I only get one night todistract myself, then I plan to spend it buried deep in that tight cunt of yours, not punishing you.”

The tiny gasp that escapes her lips gives me life, as does swallowing it with my mouth. A mess of lips and teeth, our tongues fight for dominance, and I love the fight she’s putting up. It only makes me want to possess her more.

One night, I remind myself.

My hands wander to the zipper at the small of her back. I lower it completely, fist the fabric on either side and pull, tearing the fabric to the slit. Willow gasps as the cool air of the hotel room hits her skin and the offending piece of cloth falls to the floor.

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