Page 24 of Ruthless Redemption

“You were right.” I sit straighter, placing a hand on his chest to push him out of my personal space. “I’ll concede that much.”

His brow raises in question. “How so?”

“You told me not to deny my body’s needs. And using you for gratification has me feeling invincible.” I pause, waiting for the twinge in his expression that exposes his blindsiding failure.

It doesn’t eventuate.

Instead, he regains the devil’s look, his mouth tweaking in a sly grin. “You think I didn’t know you were attempting to use me?” I stiffen as his gaze rakes over my breasts and lower, his focus stopping at my exposed sex with a breathy snicker. “Believe me, I was well aware this was a third-base hate fuck.”

Bullshit.

He didn’t know. He had no clue.

“The thing is,amore mio…” Slowly his attention raises to mine, his smirk increasing. “You can’t use someone when their only goal is to achieve what you’ve just willingly given. Being able to pleasure you—taste you—is a blessing. A goddamn gift. So although you consider yourself the victor, I can assure you my gratification far outweighed your own.”

My cheeks flame, the heat seeping down my neck, the defeat burning my throat.

“Aww, you’re so sweet.” I paste on a smile, not willing to surrender. “But for the sake of this awkward post-coital conversation, I think I’ll take my needs to Bishop next time.”

He snickers, menacing and low. The pinch of his eyes that tells me I’ve hit a sore spot. “You’d be giving him a death sentence.”

“Are you trying to discourage or entice?” I inch forward until our noses almost meet. “Because I assure you, you’ve done the latter. Two birds with one stone and all that.”

His nostrils flare.

Good.

I’m crawling under his skin.

Goddamn perfect.

We stay there. Breath mingling. Gazes locked.

Dopamine floods my system as rage glazes his eyes. My pulse flutters with the win.

“We’re done here.” He shoves back from the table, his shoulders tight, his jaw clenched. “Sleep well,amore mio.”

“I appreciate the well wishes. But in contrast, I’d suggest you rest with one eye open.” I scoot from the table. “You never know who might attempt to slit your throat during the early morning hours.”

He repeats the sinister snicker, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “As long as you’re making plans to climb into my bed, Layla, I don’t care what the fuck you do while you’re there.”

7

LAYLA

I waketo the cold morning air seeping into my skin. Matthew’s jacket gapes over my naked chest, the soft sheets tangled around my legs.

Cigarette smoke teases my senses, the scent faint yet enough to wake me.

It’s dark. No sunlight carries from the yard, but birds chirp, signaling the approaching sunrise.

I fling back the covers and slide from the bed to pad to the glass door leading outside.

Bishop stands a few yards away, facing the ocean, his forearms resting against the deck railing. A lit cigarette hangs from his hand, the tendrils of smoke bleeding into the fading night. He’s already dressed, his suit pants and buttoned shirt immaculate as usual. Or maybe he didn’t change from yesterday. Maybe he’s like me, and this unwanted situation is making it hard for him to sleep.

A gun sticks out of the back of his waistband, the weapon sparking dark ideas that are becoming all the more common since being disowned by my family.

I unlock the door, slide it open, then walk out onto the wooden deck, the chill biting into my toes. “I didn’t know you smoked,” I murmur in greeting, cinching Matthew’s jacket tight around my chest, the hem falling to midthigh.

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