Page 50 of A Game of Ruck

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Because I want this.

Wanthim.

And if I’m wrong—if this is just a game to him—I don’t know if I’ll walk away from it unbroken.

But when he reaches for me, when his voice dips low and rasps, “Take off your clothes,” I decide to believe.

At least for tonight.

I want to believe this is real.

That I am exactly what this beautiful man wants.

Luca Warden, with his blue-flame eyes and the kind of body sculpted by gods with a grudge, is looking at me like I’m something to be unwrapped.

Revered.

And I am so here for it.

“I said, take your clothes off, Angel,” he repeats, voice low and hungry.

I swallow hard.My pulse thunders in my ears.

My hands move automatically, fumbling for the zipper at the back of my dress, but I can’t quite reach it.

I huff out a laugh, flustered and flirty all at once.

“Need help?”His voice is rough velvet.

I nod, turning slightly.“Yeah.Can you?—”

I don’t finish the sentence.I don’t have to.

Luca is already behind me, his hands on my hips as he leans in close.

His breath brushes my bare shoulder.

“I’ve been dying to do this since the second I saw you,” he murmurs, fingers at the base of the zipper.“Now, tell me you’re sure.”

I nod again, this time slower.

“I’m sure, Luca.I want this.I wantyou.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

The zipper slides down, slow as molasses, each tooth releasing with a softshhhtthat sounds obscene in the quiet.

He peels the fabric down my arms, inch by inch, like he’s savoring the process, until the dress puddles at my feet.

I stand there in nothing but my soaked panties, bare to him, skin flushed.

Luca moves in front of me.

His gaze travels—no, devours—every curve, every dip, every soft swell.

And then he groans.

Not a polite sound.Not a civilized one.

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