Page 41 of Velvet Betrayal
She broke first, gasping into my mouth before pulling away, her hands still knotted in my shirt. A week ago, I wouldn’t have bet on this—her in my arms, the kid asleep upstairs and down the hall, the kitchen quiet and warm after a day that felt like it had chewed us both up. I wanted her, needed her, but more than that, I wanted her to hate needing me, to hate that even now, she let me in.
She let go, but not before her teeth caught my lower lip—a warning, maybe, or just a reminder that nothing came easy with us. “If you’re here for the week,” she said, not quite looking atme, “you’re actually going to help. I am not letting a Callahan take up space in my house for free.”
I shrugged, leaning in. “Happy to pay rent. Or vacuum. Or pick up your dry cleaning. Wait—can I pay in orgasms?”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile almost made it to her face. “Don’t say things like that where—” She stopped, glancing at the bedroom door. “Just don’t say things like that. Period.”
“Noted,” I said, lowering my voice. “But I am good with my hands. And I don’t have to use my mouth to talk.”
She laughed, sharp and bright, but didn’t look away. For the first time in days, the tension in her face cracked, just a little, and I saw the real Ruby under it—tired, wired, still ready for a fight.
“You’ve had a hell of a few days, Ruby. Let me help you feel good.”
I eased her back until the counter caught her hips, the cold making her flinch, then laugh again, breathless. She looked up at me, eyes locked, and in that space there was no room for bullshit. She wasn’t pretending this was fate, but she wasn’t running from it, either. That was the thing about Ruby: she never flinched from the truth, even when it hurt. Her arms around my neck were a hold, not a surrender. The way a fighter ties up on the inside, ready to take a hit if it means landing one of her own.
She kissed me back, tongue slick and mean, biting at my lip, grinding her hips forward until the need in her was something I could feel, hot and dangerous. I grabbed her by the ass and lifted her onto the counter. Her thighs locked around my waist, and for a minute, breathing was optional.
She finally pulled away, fingers fisted in my hair, eyes searching my face.
“Take your shirt off,” she said, and I did, letting it drop behind me. She watched, cataloging the scars, the tattoos, the body built on a decade of adrenaline and regret.
Her gaze softened when she saw the tattoo—low on my ribs, angry red lines inked into the shape of a gemstone. Not a skull. Not a saint. Just a ruby.
She stared at it, silent. “Is that—”
“Yeah,” I said. “I got it after.”
“After what? I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it.”
“After you, Ruby. I have a lot of tattoos. It makes sense that you hadn’t noticed it.”
I watched her for a reaction—disgust, pity, something—but all I saw was the crack in her armor, the vulnerability she never let anyone see. She touched the outline, running her nails over the raised skin
“You idiot,” she said, soft. “Did it hurt?”
“Not as much as the real thing.” It was the truth. If losing her had left a mark, I’d needed to make it visible, something I could point to and say, see? This is what you did to me.
I kissed her again—slower this time, coaxing her open. She caught my lower lip between her teeth, a threat disguised as a kiss. Then her heels dug into my back, pulling me flush.
“You trying to hold me hostage?” I murmured against her mouth.
She gripped me tighter. “You think I wouldn’t?”
I laughed, low in my throat, and kissed her deeper. “God, I hope you do.”
My hands slid down her sides, hips, thighs—trying to memorize her like I didn’t already know every inch. She arched into me, bold and unashamed, and when I kissed the side of her neck, she made a sound that lit me up.
“You do that again,” she warned, breath catching, “and I’m not responsible for what happens.”
“Good,” I said, teeth grazing the spot under her jaw. “Don’t be.”
She pulled my head to her chest, bralette already half-off. I didn’t bother finishing the job with finesse. Just peeled it down and off, lips following every inch I uncovered.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “You’ll never know what this does to me.”
“I have a guess,” she said, voice tight as I took her nipple into my mouth. She gasped when I sucked, arched higher when I bit.
I moved to the other side. “Tell me.”
