Page 21 of Boy of Ruin
“You wanna go stop him before this chick fucks him right here in front of everyone?” Ria asks me, looking back at me, her face flushing red with whatever is happening at my back.
I shrug, even as my spine stiffens, my blood warming. “Nope,” I tell her, popping the p. I didn’t come here to cheat on my husband.
I came here because Jeremiah can protect me. Because he’s…security.
And I needed that. Even from Lucifer himself.
But I won’t break his heart by involving myself any other way with Jeremiah. I can’t. He would never forgive me, and until I know there’s no way to fix what’s broken between us, I’m not going to even think about crossing that line.
Ria laughs, but it has a nervous edge. “Looks like you won’t have to,” she murmurs under her breath, so quiet I can barely hear her. Her eyes go up, tracking someone behind me, and I feel his presence the moment before she starts to slide out of the booth, bringing her glass with her and says, “Excuse me.” She hesitates, then adds, “Maybe when we’re done here in hell, we can head back and get in the hot tub?” She arches a brow but doesn’t wait for my reply before she walks off.
Fuck.
Jeremiah’s hand comes to my shoulder, his fingers digging into my shirt as the seat of the booth shifts behind me. “Having fun?” he asks at my back, his voice low.
I inhale, breathe in his clean scent.
“Loads of it,” I tell him, rolling my eyes, unseen by him. I’m still angled away from him, my fingers squeezing the cold water bottle, feeling the condensation against my skin. I set the bottle between my thighs, feel the chill through my leggings and try to hold onto that. To calm the warmth under my skin with Jeremiah’s nearness.
“Why won’t you look at me, baby?” he whispers, and his mouth is just over my ear, drowning out the noise of the club.
I stiffen, bite my tongue and squeeze my eyes shut a second.
Because I’m worried if I do, I’ll melt for you. Give in to you.
But before I can say or do anything, his hand leaves my shoulder and comes to my chin, fingers splayed against my jaw as he turns my head toward him, pulling me back against his chest as he does.
I grit my teeth, crinkling the plastic beneath my fingers again as I stare up into his eyes, his dark brow arched as he looks down at me.
His left hand is in the pocket of his tailored black pants, and I wonder at the scars on his arm.
But I don’t let myself think about it.
If I do, if I think of all the ways he’s hurt because of me…it’ll make it that much harder to remember all the ways I could hurt my husband if I cave.
He presses his thumb into my bottom lip, tugging it down as the corners of his full lips pull up into a soft smile. “You okay, baby?”
I swallow hard. When he calls me that, baby, it’s a little hard to breathe. “Yeah,” I lie, my mouth moving beneath his thumb. I think of the knife shredding through my shirt last night. Jeremiah’s strange, sick sense of humor.
How much it doesn’t bother me, even though I know it should.
He brushes his thumb across my lip, slides even closer so I’m pressed flush against him. I see the muscles of his shoulders shifting beneath his dress shirt. I’ve seen him shirtless so many times lately, in our training in the mornings, I should be immune to how fit he is.
I’m not.
He angles his head, his eyes dipping down to my mouth. “You lying, baby?”
I take a deep breath, my heart flying in my chest. “Nope.”
He narrows his eyes, still staring at my mouth. “I saw you watching me,” he says softly, his lips brushing mine as he keeps his eyes on my mouth, his long, dark lashes making me envious.
“I wasn’t,” I protest, narrowing my eyes as his finally meet mine again. “I don’t care what you fucking do—”
His grip on my face tightens, his thumb pulling down my lower lip. “Watch that mouth, Sid.”
I blink at him. “Are you fucking kidding—”
He groans, pulling his hand from his pocket and winds it in my hair, tilting my head back, my neck arched upward as I’m forced all the way against him. He presses a soft kiss to the hollow of my throat, his mouth open as he does. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and my eyes flutter closed as I dig my nails into my leggings.
