Page 49 of His Ruthless Claim

"The car rolled down an embankment. I was trapped, pinned in place. She was still alive, bleeding out slowly beside me." His eyes remain empty, but his other hand fists in my dress. "It took emergency services three hours to reach us. I watched every minute of her death."

"Luca..." I whisper, but he continues mechanically.

"My father blamed me for surviving. Said I should have found a way to save her. Every time he got drunk, he'd remind me how I failed her." His lips curve in a cold smile. "So yes, I killed him. Watched the life drain from his eyes just like I watched hers fade. The difference was, I enjoyed his death."

I stare at him in absolute shock.

23

LUCA

My heart constricts at his confession. The raw emptiness in those ice-blue eyes hits differently now - not the mark of a monster, but a little boy who watched his world shatter. I reach for him without thinking.

His grip locks around my wrist, stopping me. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Look at me like that." His jaw clenches. "I don't need pity."

"It's not pity." I twist my wrist free and cup his face between my palms. "It's understanding. I amsosorry you had to go through that."

His jaw works. "It was a long time ago."

I lean farther into him. "That doesn't make it hurt any less." My voice gentles. "Now, I see why you wanted to protect me so bad."

For a heartbeat, he stays rigid. Then his control fractures. He yanks me into his lap, burying his face in my neck. His arms band around me like steel cables, holding me so tight it almost hurts.

"I won't let anything happen to you." His words ghost across my skin. "I'll burn this whole fucking city down before I let anyone touch you."

The possessive edge in his voice makes me shiver. This is Luca's version of devotion - not flowers and sweet words, but the promise of violence in my name. His hands slide up my back, pressing me closer.

"I know what loss does to people." His teeth graze my pulse point. "What it makes them become. But you..." He inhales deeply. "You make me want things I shouldn't."

I thread my fingers through his dark hair, drawing his head back so I can see his face. Those empty eyes burn into mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

I kiss him slowly, deeply, pouring everything I can't say into the press of my lips against his. He responds instantly, one hand fisting in my hair while the other grips my hip. There's desperation in the way he kisses me back, like he's trying to crawl inside my skin.

His breathing is ragged as I work his shirt buttons free, my hands unsteady but determined. I need him close, need to feel him in a way that goes beyond words. His hands follow mine, undoing the clasp of my dress with a precision that makes my stomach flip. The fabric pools at my waist, and I rise slightly to let it fall completely, leaving me bare to him. Unfortunately - or maybe it worked out in my favor - I couldn't afford the lines in the dress. His gaze burns, tracing every inch of me like he’s memorizing it.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters, his voice rough, like it’s been dragged over gravel. His fingers skim my ribs, his touch reverent yet possessive. I shiver, his words and hands lighting me up in ways I didn’t know I could feel.

"You’re not so bad yourself," I tease, though my voice catches when I reach for his belt. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as I undo it, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss.

He shifts beneath me, letting me push his pants down just enough. My breath hitches when I see him - hard, thick,huge- and I glance up to meet his ice-blue eyes. They’re dark now, almost black with desire, but there’s something else there too, something vulnerable that he’s trying to hide.

“You sure?” His voice is low, strained, like he’s holding himself back by a thread.

“I’m sure.” I don’t hesitate. I lift myself slightly, positioning him at my entrance, and sink down slowly. He’s so big, it’s almost too much, and I have to pause, my body stretching to accommodate him. His hands tighten on my hips, his knuckles white as he holds himself perfectly still.

“Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take your time.”

“I’m good,” I breathe, sinking the rest of the way down until I’m seated fully on him. The sensation is overwhelming - hot, intense, like he’s everywhere at once. I don’t move for a moment, letting us both adjust, feeling the way his body trembles beneath me, the way he’s holding back, even now.

When I finally start to move, his hands slide up to my waist, guiding me, his thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts. It’s slow at first, almost teasing, but it doesn’t take long for the rhythm to build, for the heat to coil tighter in my stomach. His eyes never leave mine, and the intensity in them makes my chest ache.

“You feel...” he starts, but his voice breaks, and he shakes his head, like words aren’t enough. His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer until my chest is pressed against his. “You feel like nothing I’ve ever known.”

I kiss him then, hard and desperate, my hands tangling in his hair. He kisses me back like he’s drowning in me, his bodymoving in time with mine, each thrust deeper, harder, until I’m gasping against his mouth.

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