Page 23 of Ruined Vows
I swing wide on purpose.
He catches my wrist. Spins me.
I crash into his chest.
He doesn’t gloat. Doesn’t blink.
He just looks down at me like I’m his next move.
“It’s getting hot in here,” I mutter, glancing toward the dial for the A/C on the wall. I swear it’s broken. “I’m not going to break,” I snap, before I run my tongue over my parched lips.
“Good,” he says, low and rough. “I don’t want something that breaks easily.”
Fuck. How does he do that? He has the best lines. Does he use AI to come up with this?
And for the first time since the ten-date rule, I worry I might lose because if I fail, I’ll lose myself in him.
I push off him, harder than I mean to. My chest rises fast. My gloves tremble.
Ten dates.
That’s what I asked for.
But now?
Now I’m starting to wonder?—
Did I just invite the devil into the ring?
And if I did...
Why do I feel like I want to go to hell?
8
BIANCA
NO GLOATING?
The air between us crackles, thick with tension. I’m damp with sweat and something unspoken I refuse to name.
He doesn’t even break a sweat. My hands are still clammy, and the nape of my neck is slick.
Like other places that I refuse to dwell on, it’s there nonetheless.
Then there is the chemistry between us—the undeniable attraction that sends a spark. It crackles at the sight of danger. And Vukan knows it because the bastard wears that knowledge like a crown.
His smirk is slow, practiced, and built to unravel. I loathe how well it works on me, even when I know he’s trying to seduce me.
He’s a wolf, but his clothing is anything but sheepish.
My heart is racing, and it’s not from adrenaline.
“You're staring,” he says, stepping closer. His voice is low and lazy like smoke curling around my spine. The sexual tension is like no other.
How am I going to remain celibate through ten dates?
“I’m assessing a threat,” I shoot back, rolling my shoulders even though the tension doesn't ease.
