Page 51 of Ruthless Love

As soon as I’m in the kitchen, my scream comes out loud and shrill, and I reach for the nearest spatula before the man wearing a leather jacket steps away from the oven.

When he turns, I see it’s Austin. But with his hair trimmed and his stubble tamed down, I’m at a loss. Ditching his usual casual look for a trim to his scruff and a button-down shirt, he’s elevated his look. Now he’s less the guy next door and more Armani model. It’s obvious that the effort he took was entirely for my benefit.

“I overdressed,” he says with a sexy half smile that wakes every butterfly in my chest.

I’m about to bolt for the bedroom and change back into the cute little number that would pair perfectly with his outfit, but I don’t.

I can’t.

I’m trapped in the hold of his darkening eyes, helpless to do anything but stand there as his gaze travels slowly down my body. It’s then that I realize this thin white T-shirt is doing nothing to hide my girls. Or the black thong I’m wearing.

Tripping over my words, I stammer, “I—I thought you weren’t coming.”

Closing the distance between us in a single step, he takes the spatula from my hand, setting it down but not letting go of me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked, then tried the door because you never, ever lock it. Anyone can break in here.”

“That’s good advice,” I say, not having the slightest clue what we’re talking about. For all I know, he said my car’s been stolen and my house is on fire, because all I can do is follow the line of his full lips, desperate to trace it with my tongue.

Austin’s words trail off. Lifting my hand, he swirls his thumb above my ring finger. “Did you take it off to make dinner, or is it off for good?”

“For good.” My words are breathy, and the thumping in my chest grows loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it.

“Tell me he’s not between us.”

“He’s not.”

Austin studies me with a look I can’t read.

Believe me. Please. After a long minute of his eyes on mine, I add, “I don’t want him.”

“You don’t?” His question is both an accusation and an invitation.

A second later, his lips devour mine in a raw, rough frenzy of a kiss that leaves me struggling for air. As one hand cradles my jaw, the other moves up my neck, fisting my hair.

“This is a bad idea,” he growls.

“It is?” I ask as my hand slides to the front of his jeans, stroking the outline of his solid cock.

He’s rough when he grabs my wrist, whipping it away from him and pinning it behind my back. He joins my other wrist to it, holding both in one of his large hands.

“You’ve broken up a dozen times. You’ll be back with him by the end of the week.”

“I’m with you, Austin.” It’s all I can say. “I’m with you.”

One hand smooths along my thigh, teasing my skin by skimming a finger along the lines of my panties. Back and forth.

I shiver, and a yes escapes my breath as his finger makes its way along my center, but just keeps brushing its heat against the pulse of my pussy. “Please. Austin, please.”

His finger slips between the fabric and my soaking core, sliding deep inside, then dragging out. I whimper from the loss, wriggling my hands helplessly in the tender strength of his.

Transfixed, I watch as his free hand tugs a cord from his pocket, with twists of golden silk and elegant tassels on the end. It’s mine, a cord I use to tie back the curtain at the entry. He moves it behind me, and the soft rope binds my hands expertly—not too tight, but enough that I can feel the dampness grow between my legs.

Finished knotting me, he softly grazes his lips on mine. My lips part, giving in enough that his tongue sweeps in and out, delicate in tasting and exploring. Owning me in slivers of temptation and seduction. But as soon as I lean in, he pulls away, locking my hips in his grasp, and my breath stutters.

“Turn around,” he says low, and I don’t ask questions or resist.

I obey, turning my body away from his to face the kitchen island. When he places his jacket on the counter in front of me, he takes a moment to roll up his sleeves while pressing his erection firmly into my back.

“I need to teach you a lesson, Evie,” he whispers against my neck. “Would you like that?”

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