Page 88 of Ruthless Redemption

I’m so fucking hard for her. My dick throbs against my zipper. My chest pounds like thunder.

I want to be inside her. To be all over her.

“Matthew.” Her back arches, her phenomenal breasts brushing my chest. “We need this.”

I hold her tighter. Kiss her harder. “Sei perfetta. Così fottutamente perfetta.”

She whimpers.

My dick takes note of every sound. Every movement.

I don’t understand the hold she has on me. The consumption. The mindlessness. We’re dry humping on the side of the fucking road, like teenagers, and I can’t drag myself away.

I’d kill for her.

I’d die. I’ve never been more certain.

“La mia ossessione,” I whisper. “La mia vita. La mia anima. Il mio santuario.”

Her throat works over a heavy swallow beneath my palm, her chest rising and falling under ragged breaths.

She releases my arms, her neck craning away so she can meet my gaze. “Remind me what that means.”

“My obsession. My life. My soul. My sanctuary.”

Her gaze regains the sheen of moisture as her nose crinkles. Then she quickly glances away.

I’ve upset her again. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell me.” I palm her chin, brushing my mouth over hers. “Trustme.”

“I can’t.” Her shoulders slump. Her entire body weakens. “I want to. Ineedto. I just don’t think I can.”

I stiffen, taking the punishment I deserve.

She winces, understanding my suffering. My guilt. “Matthew, I need you to promise me this is real. That it always will be. That you’ll never lie again. But as much as I need those promises, I won’t believe you. Ineedthose words, but I don’t know how to accept them.”

“Then it’s my job to convince you.” I kiss her gently. Reverently. “Nothing has ever been more real, Layla. And I plan on spending the rest of my life proving that to you.”

17

MATTHEW

I keepmy waist pressed into hers, our gazes tangled for long silent heartbeats while she contemplates me with sorrow.

I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. I have to prove myself without force.

But I will.

I’ll make her believe.

“Let’s go.” I check my watch, annoyed that Bishop hasn’t responded to my last text. “We’ll finish this at the house. Then we need to pack.”

“We’re going to Denver?”

“Not yet. I still need a few more days. But I don’t want to risk your safety by staying here.” I retreat, mourning the loss of her heat.

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