Page 37 of Hunted By Valentine

His dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that steals my breath away. My heart races, desire and uncertainty warring within me as I wonder what he’ll say, what he’ll do. I remain rooted to the spot as Valentine approaches, his steps measured and graceful. The air between us crackles with tension, and I find myself holding my breath.

“Ruby,” he purrs, his voice low and intimate. “That speech was captivating.”

His praise washes over me like a warm caress, and I feel a flush creeping up my neck. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

Valentine moves closer, close enough that the scent of his cologne—a heady mix of sandalwood and something darker, more primal—makes my nostrils flare. His eyes never leave mine as he reaches out, fingers ghosting along my bare arm.

“You have a gift,” he continues, “a way of drawing people in, making them listen. It’s intoxicating.”

My skin tingles where he touched me, and I fight the urge to lean into him. “I just spoke from the heart,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

Valentine’s lips curl into a smile that’s equal parts predatory and approving. “And that’s precisely what makes it so powerful. Your vulnerability, your passion—it’s delectable.” A shiver runs down my spine as he licks his lips.

His words ignite something within me—a desperate need for more. More praise, more touch, more of him. I step closer, eliminating the little space between us.

“Valentine,” I breathe, my hand coming to rest on his chest. It’s just above his heart, which is beating strong and steady beneath my palm. “I-I want…” I trail off, unsure how to articulate the maelstrom of emotionsswirling inside me. Desire, yes, but also a craving for validation, for connection, for something I don’t know the name of.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. The touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure through my body. “What do you want, Ruby?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear.

I swallow hard, gathering my courage. “You,” I whisper, pressing my body against his. “I want you.”

For a moment, Valentine doesn’t move. His eyes search mine, as if weighing my words, my intentions. And then, ever so slowly, he removes my hand from his chest and takes a step back. “Ruby,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind.

My heart drops; I know what’s coming. Men like Valentine don’t need words to reject someone; it’s all in their body language. I take a shaky breath, willing myself not to break in front of him.

He cocks his head to the side. “What do you want me to do?”

I gape at the question, which is so not what I expected. “W-what do you mean?” I ask, hating how my voice trembles.

Shrugging, he takes a step back. “If you can’t even say what you want, you’re not ready.”

“Fine,” I say, injecting as much steel as I can muster into my voice. “You’re probably right. It was just a fleeting thought, anyway.”

He chuckles darkly. “I’m sure it wasn’t.” His voice is laced with a wry tone.

With that, he turns, leaving me to my racing thoughts.

His words haunt me, twisting themselves into knots in my mind. What did he mean by that? Was this all some sick game to him? Or did I really misread the situation?

My mind is torn in two; one side stating that it doesn’t matter, Michael told me to seduce him, so that’s what I have to do. But if I’m completely honest with myself, nothing I’ve done when it comes to Valentine has anything to do with my husband. It’s all me; whatIwant.

As I stand there, I bring my hand up to my lips, brushing my fingertips across the spot where Valentine’s thumb was. The ghost of his touch lingers, a phantom caress that sets my skin tingling. I close my eyes,losing myself in the memory of his touch, his words, his presence.

The rejection stings, even more so because it’s Valentine who’s rejecting me. I don’t know why, but his words cut deeper than they should, burrowing into my mind and heart like a poison.

“If you can’t even say what you want, you’re not ready.”

I close my eyes, tension builds inside me, the need for validation and something more from Valentine, almost too much to bear. My body hums with unresolved tension. Suddenly, anger explodes in my veins, making me see red as it bubbles up inside me. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Who the hell does he think he is to tell me what I want?

I’ve had enough of men telling me what I can or can’t do. What I do or don’t want.

Chapter 15

The Hunter

Ilean against the marble column, scanning the room as my eyes fix onheragain.

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