Page 68 of Ruthless Savior
And then I feel his knuckle drag, slowly, down the back of my spine, to the top of the bustier I’m wearing beneath the dress.
“You’re beautiful, Leila,” he murmurs softly.
“You think so?” I whisper, hating the crackle in my voice. Ronan chuckles, the sound low and deep in the back of his throat as he flicks open another button.
“Yes,milséan,” he murmurs. “So beautiful I nearly got hard in church, watching you walk toward me, knowing I’d see what was under this dress tonight.”
The admission strikes me like lightning, making my lungs tighten. I feel like I can’t breathe as he opens the back of my dress, the realization that I turn him on making me feel as if this entire night has been turned on its head.
“I thought this was just about necessity for you,” I whisper, and Ronan pauses, the dress open nearly to my waist now.
“It is,” he says quietly, and I feel a flash of disappointment, despite everything we’ve said, everything I know to be true. “But I have eyes, Leila. And I’d be a fool not to want a woman as lovely as you.”
His hand slides beneath the bodice of my dress, against the bustier that lies between him and my skin. “I’ve wanted to touch you since the first morning I walked in and saw you in my guest bedroom. I’ve been fighting it every day since. I knew I couldn’t have you. That there were a dozen reasons it was wrong. But we’ve been pushed into a situation where I have no choice but to lay claim to you.”
That hand slides up, over the curve of my breast beneath the strapless silk, his fingers gliding against my ribs. I feel the heat of his touch as if it were against my skin, my body shivering with desire, and I wonder what it will feel like when there are no barriers left.
“I’d be a fool not to let myself enjoy it,milséan,” he murmurs. “I’ll give you pleasure tonight, Leila, and take it from you. I’ll make sure that you think of this night as a good one.”
My knees feel weak.What does that mean?I know all of the mechanics of sex, of course. I’ve watched porn. I’ve touched myself. I’ve gossiped with Alicia about the guys she’s slept with. But I can’t quite imagine what it would feel like for a man to makemefeel the things I’m told that sex should feel like. I can’tquite imagine Ronan doing them. But I feel his hands against the bustier, feel him open my dress down to the base of my spine, and then his hands are on my shoulders, his palms broad and warm as he slides the sleeves down.
The bodice slips down the curves of my breasts, leaving them only encased in stiff satin. The sleeves slide down, and I feel Ronan’s hands fall away as I slip my arms out of them, the dress suddenly hanging from my hips as I hear a rustle of fabric behind me, and realize that he’s taking his shirt off.
“Don’t move,milséan,” he instructs in that same rasping tone. “Stay just as you are.”
I want to see him. I hadn’t realized how much until he told me not to move, and my fingers curl into the fabric of my skirt, forcing myself to stay still.
I hear the soft sound of his shirt hitting the floor, and then his hands touch my back, the row of hooks and eyes that make up the back of my bustier.
One by one, he undoes them, baring the smooth line of my spine to his eyes. I can feel every touch so much more intensely than I imagined, my heart racing as he plucks them open, my lungs so tight I can barely breathe.
And then the bustier falls open, and I feel Ronan push it all down, letting it and my dress fall away from my skin, down my hips, into a pool of fabric on the floor as I stand there in only my thong, bare in front of a man for the first time.
His fingers touch my waist, and I draw in a sharp breath. His hands slide around, flattening over my stomach, dragging up over my ribs, and I can’t breathe, I can’t move, can’t do anything butfeel. My body is a riot of sensation as his hands glide further up, over my breasts, his palms brushing over my stiff nipples, and then as his hands close over my breasts, I feel him step closer, pressing against my back as he starts to pluck at my nipples with his fingers.
His chest is hard against my back—so much of him is hard. I feel hot skin and the soft rasp of hair on his chest, his hips meeting the curve of my ass, and I gasp as I feel the thick length of his cock pressing against me. He’s still wearing his suit pants, the fabric sliding against my bare skin as I feel him rock gently against me, letting me feel that he was telling the truth—that he’s impossibly hard forme.
“Feel that, Leila?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick. “That’s what you do to me. That’s what you’ve done to me every day since you woke up in my home.”
His breath is warm on the shell of my ear, his words thrumming over my nerves, plucking them like strings, arousing me to the point that I’m breathless and needy already. I can feel how wet I am, the thin fabric of my thong soaked through, and I wonder what he’ll think of that. If it will turn him on, or…
Ronan turns me slowly toward the bed, his hands still caressing my breasts, before he pulls them away. I let out a soft mewl of protest, and he chuckles low in his throat, one hand against the small of my back as he urges me toward the bed.
“Lie back on the bed,milséan,” he murmurs, and my heart trips in my chest, nerves and anticipation tangling together until I don’t know whether I’m fearful or desirous of what happens next.
I obey, not sure what else to do. There’s something freeing in simply doing what Ronan tells me to, now that I’ve saidyesto what this night entails. I climb onto the bed slowly, turning to lie back against the pillows, and I hear the low sound of Ronan’s groan before I catch sight of him for the first time with his clothes partially off.
He’s gorgeous. It’s all I can do to keep my mouth from falling open as I take in his broad, muscled chest, his chiseled shoulders and arms, the black ink curling and sweeping over all of it. Dark hair dusts his chest, narrowing into a thin line that disappearsbelow his belt, and framing his cobblestoned abs are two deep cuts of muscle that form a V on either side of that line. I can see the thick ridge of his cock straining against the front of his trousers, and as Ronan’s hand goes to his belt, I bite my lip. I can’t help it.
A smirk touches his lips as he sees the expression on my face. “You want to see my cock,milséan?”
I feel my cheeks burn red. It’s all the answer he needs, and he flicks his belt open, then the button, drawing his zipper down and then pushing his suit trousers and the underwear beneath down his hips.
His cock springs free, and I suck in a breath, my thighs squeezing together. I have no idea how it’s going to fit inside me. He’s long and thick, his hard flesh mapped with angry-looking, throbbing veins, and a pearly fluid is dripping from the swollen tip. I stare, my eyes widening, and Ronan groans as his hand wraps around himself and he gives it one long, tugging stroke before letting go abruptly.
“Christ, Leila, you could make a man come on the spot, looking at his cock like that.” He approaches the bed, and my heartbeat speeds up, a sudden urge to flee striking me. He looks frightening, prowling toward me, but I remind myself that it’s Ronan. He hasn’t hurt me before, and he isn’t going to hurt me now.
He climbs onto the foot of the bed, his hands touching my knees as his gaze slides over me, and he slowly spreads my legs. It’s hard to think with him so close to me—I can smell the sweat on his skin, the faint tang of iron, the lingering scent of his cologne, woodsy and like warm leather, and the hint of smoke. He’s beyond beautiful, a sculpture in human form, and I let out a shuddering breath as his warm hands slide up to my inner thighs, spreading me for him.
