Page 106 of Ruined Vows
“I’m going to have that woman exiled,” he mutters.
I laugh—sharp and shaky, but real.
“I’m going to thank her,” I counter, standing too quickly and clutching my towel like a lifeline.
His eyes drag down my body, molten and unbothered.
“This isn’t over,” he says, his voice a low growl.
And I know it’s not. Because with one more second...I would’ve let him kiss me. And maybe it would have led to more.
And Istillwant him to kiss me.
And I want more. God help me.
I stareat myself in the mirror like I’m about to go into battle. And I guess I am. Because this dress rocks.
It’s the one I bought with Joanne—the Ravella piece. It’s a deep emerald silk, covering me like Italian clay, and it’s sexy as sin. The back dips scandalously low. The slit rides higher than necessary. And the neckline? Let’s just say I’m not bending over tonight unless I want to be in thenews.
I pair it with black stiletto heels sharp enough to start a war, a swipe of red lipstick, and gold cuffs at my wrists like armor.
Joanne’s voice echoes in my head.If you’re going to lose control, at least look like the reason he does, too.
Game on.
I applya deep red that looks almost brown and stand back to admire my handiwork before I walk out of the bedroom with the kind of pace that says I’m in control—even if my pulse is trying to crawl out of my throat.
And then I see him standing near the floor-to-ceiling window, phone in one hand, glass of something dark in the other.
Wearing the tailored black Brioni suit that looked like it was sewn onto his body by the devil himself. His jacket hugs broad shoulders, the shirt collar casually open at the throat, just enough to tease skin and promise power. His hair’s still slightly tousled, still damp from the shower, and the light catches the edge of his jawline in a way that makes me want to do somethingveryunholy.
And then he turns andsmiles.
It’s slow and knowing, and so damn lethal. It’s as if he already knows I’m not wearing panties under the dress.
I haven’t even breathed in properly yet.
Then his scent hits me–musk and sandalwood. Clean smoke. Something deep and heady that shouldn’t be legal in confined, small spaces. He smells like sex and sin, the perfect combination to ruin me. He’s become everything to me that I’ve ever told myself Ishouldn’t want.And right now, I’m a liar in heels.
He drinks me in from head to toe. His eyes drag over the dress, my legs, my mouth. But they don’t linger in one spot too long.
Because he’ssavoring me, and it wrecks me. There’s no way I can resist him.
None.
But I’m going to try, so I lift my chin. “Staring is rude.”
He takes a step closer, and his gaze locks on mine.
“So is showing up inthatdress and expecting me to behave.”
I swallow hard, because damn—that doesn’t level me.
“Dinner?” I manage to eke out.
His voice drops. “Only if I get dessert.”
And just like that—the battle starts all over again.
