Page 51 of 10 Days to Ruin

For now.

“You’re testing me,” I growl.

“Testing what?” Her thumb brushes the hollow of my throat, right along the line of my scar. “Your self-control?”

“My mercy.”

Ariel titters. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

Before I can retort, she swings a leg over me and settles into my lap. Her skirt rides up her thighs. My hands fly to her hips on instinct, gripping hard enough to bruise. She doesn’t wince, though. Just grinds down, slow and deliberate, until my vision whites out. “Ariel, I?—”

“Shh.” She presses a finger to my lips. Her other hand slides up my chest, popping the top button of my shirt. Then the next. And the next. “You talk too much.”

I could stop her. Should stop her. But her skin is fever-hot through the thin cotton of her blouse, her hips rolling in a rhythm that’s fuckingobscene. My cock aches, straining against my zipper, and she smirks like she knows. Like she’s winning.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Sasha.” Her nails scrape my collarbone. Soft, soft, and thenpang,a scratch that draws blood. “You think you’re so scary? Sountouchable?” She leans in, her lips grazing my ear. “But I’ve seen you come undone. I’ve felt it.”

Her teeth graze my earlobe and reality fractures. My hands slide up her back, memorizing each curve through silk. She arches into my touch like a cat, but when I try to capture her lips, she turns her head.

“Ah-ah.” Her fingertip presses against my mouth again. “No kissing.”

I growl. “Why not?”

“Because.” She rocks her hips, drawing a groan from deep in my chest. “I make the rules today.”

My laugh is dark, dangerous, delirious. “Since when?”

“Since… now.” Her lips trail down my neck, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of my skin. But when I lean in, she pulls back just enough to deny me. “Hands above the waist, darling.”

I grip her ass in defiance. “Make me.”

She clicks her tongue and stills completely. “I could leave.”

“You won’t.”

“Try me.”

We lock eyes, neither willing to back down. Then slowly, deliberately, she starts to rise from my lap.

“Fine.” I slide my hands up to her waist, surrendering. For now.

Her smile is pure sin as she settles back down. “Good boy.”

My fingers dig into her ribs in warning, but she just laughs and goes back to work on my shirt buttons. Each new inch of exposed skin gets the same treatment—lips, teeth, tongue—while her hips maintain that maddening rhythm.

The air grows thick with want, with need, with the memory of that night in the bathroom. But every time I try to take control, to speed things up or draw her closer, she pulls back. Denies. Teases.

It’s torture.

It’s ecstasy.

It’s driving me fucking insane.

Her nails rake down my chest, leaving angry red trails in their wake. “Getting frustrated?”

I catch her wrist, squeezing just hard enough to remind her who she’s playing with. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do.” She leans in close, her breath hot against my lips. Close enough to taste, but not quite touching. “The question is… what are you going to do about it?”

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