Page 24 of Ruined Vows
“Mm,” he hums, circling me like a predator with all the time in the world. "Is that what we’re calling it now? You ogling me like a starving woman, and I’m the feast?"
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve had better cuts of meat,” I snark.
“Have you?” His eyes dip to my mouth, which shouldn't do anything to me, but itdoes. “You keep looking like that, I might start thinking you’re hungry—insatiable, even.”
“Try me.” The words slip before I can stop them, my voice cool and even as my pulse trips over itself like a marching band.
His smile widens, sharp and knowing. “Dangerous offer, ljubavi.”
It’s an endearment. Damn him. He’s making this personal, very personal. But I’m not his darling, and I don’t love him. I only love my family. Men are childish and unreliable. My first role model was my father, and he was cold, calculating, and heartless.
No one can penetrate the fortress around my heart. I’ve had two decades of abuse—the damage still lingers.
I step in, close enough that our breaths could tango. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It fits.” He lifts a hand, brushing a knuckle down the line of my jaw, and it’s intimate. I don’t move. Ishould, but I don’t. But I can’t break the hold he has on me. “You’re gorgeous when you’re angry.”
"I'm prettier when I'm in control," I murmur, leaning in just enough for my lips to brush his cheek. Then, in a whisper: "And you're not the one holding all the cards." Slowly, I drag my tongue across my lower lip, deliberate and teasing.
Two can play this game.
His breath stutters—barely—but I feel it. Just enough to count as a win.
His hand snaps to my waist, not rough, but firm enough to make it clear he's done playing. “Careful, Bianca. Keep pushing, and you might find out what happens when I stop being nice,” he growls.
I smirk, teeth flashing. “Oh, Iamcounting on it.”
His hand is still on my waist, anchoring me there like he has the right. Like I’m something he cantouchwithout consequence. And maybe the worst part is—I let him. Just for a second. To see what he'll do with it.
“You keep touching me like that,” I murmur, “and I might start thinking you want to be manhandled.”
His eyes flash—dark, dangerous, delicious. "Is that an offer or a threat?"
“Depends.” I drag a finger down his chest, just enough pressure to make him look. “Can you handle being pinned, Vukan?”
A low, rumbling laugh vibrates through him, hot against my skin. “I’d say the same to you.”
OMG. Suddenly, the thought of being pinned by him and those muscular forearms, his chest, the scent of him wafting over me, is too much. I shake my head, as if that will put out the fire in my pussy.
Damn him. He knows how to make me come undone.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he made his point, and look away. We’re nose to nose now, and if one of us breathes wrong, we’re either going to tear each other’s clothes off or each other’s throats out. And God help me, either option sounds like a welcome release.
I’m so horny I don’t recognize myself. No man has ever gotten to me like this.
“Are you always this mouthy with your enemies?" he asks, his thumb grazing under the edge of my belt—a deliberate taunt.
“Only the ones who think they’re irresistible.” My voice is sharp, like a razor, but it’s dipped in honey.
“And am I?”
That’s when I do it. I lean in—close enough that our lips brush, a pretense of a kiss, and he goes utterly still, like prey sensing a trap.
“Youwishyou were,” I whisper, then shove him back.
He stumbles a step. It’s a small, almost unnoticeable, but his rhythm is off. His composure cracks for half a second, and it’s beautiful. I’ve struck a nerve. Good.
His eyes darken, but his smirk returns, laced with something feral. "You’re going to regret that."
