Page 115 of Ruthless God

His jaw tenses, his expression unreadable. “This.” His fingers tighten at my waist. “Stay after. Hold on.”

My chest tightens. Because I know what he’s saying, even if he doesn’t say it. This isn’t just sex. This is something more. And that? That terrifies him. Maybe it terrifies me too.

I swallow, my fingers grazing his cheek before I can think better of it. “Well… maybe you should.”

His eyes darken, but not with lust. With something deeper, something unreadable. For a moment, I think he’s going to pull away. But his hand slides into my hair, tangling at the base of my neck, his grip firm but gentle.

“Careful, Cecely.” His voice is almost a whisper now, but the warning is clear. “You’re making it hard for me to let you go.”

The words settle deep inside me, wrapping around something I didn’t even realize I’d been guarding.

“Maybe I don’t want you to let me go,” I whisper back.

His lips brush against mine, and he kisses me. It feels like a promise. Like we’re both in this together.

Then the moment shatters. A sharp ring pierces the quiet night air. Claudius’ phone.

His entire body stiffens. I feel the shift in an instant. Reality is demanding his attention, and he’s not going to ignore it. With a muttered curse, he untangles from me, his arms slipping away, leaving behind an uncomfortable coolness where his heat used to be.

I watch as he strides out of the water, muscles tense, water dripping off his skin as he grabs his phone from the pile of clothes on the sand.

The moment he sees the screen, his expression hardens.

The man who held me just seconds ago…the one who kissed me like I was something he couldn’t bear to lose? Gone. Replaced by Claudius Irons, the man who rules his world with ruthless precision.

He answers, his voice low, clipped. “This is Irons.”

His jaw clenches. His fingers tighten around the phone, like he wants to crush it. Something is wrong.

I push up out of the water, my pulse ticking up. “Claudius?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns away from me, his shoulders rigid, like he’s trying to lock something away.

I watch as he grabs his shorts, sliding them on with precision, every movement controlled. Like he’s forcing himself to shut down. Like he’s forcing himself to forget.

I step onto the shore, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat still lingering on my skin.

My heartbeat pounds. “Claudius, what is it?”

He doesn’t answer at first.

Instead, he finishes adjusting his clothes, his back still to me.

Then he finally turns. His face is carefully blank. A mask. A barrier. A fucking wall.

“I have to go.”

Four words. But they feel like a door slamming shut between us. A chill crawls up my spine. Because I know what this means. Whatever just happened between us. Whatever shift, whatever crack had formed in his armor… he’s sealing it back up. And I can’t stop him.

I open my mouth, but before I can speak, he hands me my discarded clothing. No tenderness. No teasing remark. Not even a freaking towel. Just… efficiency. Like this… like we never happened. I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the fabric as I slide my clothes back on.

Claudius, meanwhile, moves like a man on a mission. Packing up the picnic. Collecting the wine glasses. Making sure there’s no trace of the night we just shared.

A part of me wants to push. To demand answers. To ask why the hell he keeps running away from me. But instead, I stay silent.

“Ready?”

I dip my head, and he takes off, leading the way.

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