Page 117 of Ruined Vows
I close my eyes, locking my frustration in a vault so I don’t kill the woman who’s interrupting our moment. But on the other hand, perhaps I should tip her handsomely for saving me from giving in to temptation. I’ll be dammed if I’ll fall first.
Bianca growls. “Do youpaythese people to interrupt us?”
“I might start paying them to disappear,” I growl.
She swims away, and I let her, because every movement is a taunt. Every moment is a test. But I don’t want her like this, a means to an end.
Because when I take her?
There won’t be any interruptions.
There will beno going back. There will only be the two of us, forever.
And until she understands she is the only woman for me for eternity, I will abstain.
I walk out of the pool, water dripping off my muscular body, and I know she’s watching. I grab a towel and blot the water off my limbs before tucking it around my waist. I’m aware that my tattoos are on display, as well as my eight-pack abs.
I take the call from Italy. The man is a real piece of work and by that I mean a real asshole. I followed up in broken Italian and told him to email me the contracts to review.
Matteo was right, but it’s a joint effort to get guns cheaperthan my guy. I doubt he’ll beat my guy’s price, but it’s a good faith effort.
I walk to the courtesy office at the hotel. My raging hard-on is killing me. I take a shower and pleasure myself to take the edge off. The flight home is going to be painful.
Watching her, obsessing over her, and not touching her is going to be the death of me.
But still, I’d die a happy man.
So when shewalks into my suite after the pool, water streaming down her thighs in rivulets that make my hands curl at my sides. Her hair is slicked back, cheeks flushed, and her lips are wet from the sun or the way she just licked them—either way, I’m done.
I’ve let her lead.
I’ve let her tease.
I’ve given her the room to run because part of me wanted to see how long she could stay ahead of what we both knew was coming.
But now?
Now I’m not chasing.
I’m claiming.
She stops right in front of me, towel loose around her hips, and meets my eyes like she’s daring me to cross the line.
Again.
This woman will be the death of me. I can’t forget her, and I can’t be the first one to concede.
“Vukan,” she says, her voice dripping with need. She’s not winning me, she’s giving me permission.
I step in close, placing one hand in her soaked hair and the other gripping her hip, and I claim her lips. Not tentative. Not curious.
Confirmed. Lusting, hot, demanding.
She moans into my mouth—no gasp, no resistance—just that soft, desperate sound that tells me she’s been waiting for this since the first time our mouths met and we both pretended it didn’t mean anything.
This time?It means everything.She’s meeting my lips and kissing me back.. She’s giving herself to me.
Tongue, teeth, breath—it’s not just passion, it’spossession.I devour her like I’m starved and she’s the last thing I’ll ever taste.
