Page 87 of Ruthless Redemption

“I don’t want to.” She sniffs. “I don’t want any of this.”

“Yes, you do. Your problem is that you think succumbing to me makes you vulnerable. But it’s the opposite, Layla. Nothing is stronger than the two of us together. I promise you that.”

She closes her eyes, a trail of tears escaping her closed lashes.

“Kiss me,mia dea. Tell me you’re mine.”

She drags in a shaky breath, her hands moving to grip my arms.

“Kiss me.” I wait for her to push me away. To destroy me with her rejection.

Her inhales become ragged. Fractured. Broken.

I don’t know what else to do. What to say. So I repeat what she means to me, whispering her value against those fragile lips. “La mia ossessione.La mia vita. La mia anima.” I close my eyes, resting my forehead against hers. “Il mio santuario. La mia stella polare. Mia dea.”

She sobs, killing me with her suffering.

“Forgive me,” I demand. “Absolve my sins. Let me spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

She shakes her head, denying me.

“Layla,” I beg. “You’re killing me.”

“No, you’re killingme.” She opens her eyes, the bloodshot depths drowning in sadness. “I can’t take it anymore.” She wraps a hand around my neck and smashes her mouth to mine.

Euphoria hits me like a motherfucker, blinking the world from existence.

I devour her, tasting her tears, surrendering my soul.

She clings to me, her nails in my skin. Our tongues dance, parry, attack.

I’ve never felt more overwhelmed with relief.

“I need you,” she pants into my mouth.

I’ll give her what she wants, just not on the side of the road against a dusty car. Not after waiting this long. “Let’s get back to the house.”

The next time I pleasure her, she’ll be in a comfortable bed where I can give her the attention she deserves.

“No. Now. Here,” she pants.

“I want to fuck every inch of you. But I’m doing this right.” My dick thrums in protest. I succumb to temptation, grinding my cock against her abdomen. “You need to get in the car.”

She moans, reclaiming my mouth.

We kiss as if we’re starved. Desperate. Our bodies grind. Our breath gasps.

“This isn’t something you’re going to walk away from again, is it?” I pull back to stare at her, trying to see sense through the lust. “You’re mine now, Layla.” It sounds like a statement but it’s not. It’s a question. A fucking pathetic plea.

“I’m yours.” She nods, her brows pinching as if she’s in pain.

She’s mine, but she’s torn. She’s succumbed to fate but hasn’t been convinced of her decision.

“I’ll make it up to you.” I palm her throat, using pressure to guide her head to the side to expose her delicate neck. “I’ll make this right.”

She mewls, her eyes fluttering shut as I lean in to kiss the sensitive skin below her ear.

I lick and bite and suck. I taste and savor and consume.

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