Page 19 of Ruined By the Enemy
Naked.
With her hair spread over the pillow and her throat with faint marks from where my teeth nipped sometime during fucking her… and fucking her some more.
“I’ll listen,” I say.
Raff clicks his tongue in mock reluctance. “Well, I was only being polite when I said I thought of asking you. I didn’t want to call her up after spending a day with you, because I know how exhausting you can be sometimes.”
He shrugs, unapologetic. “Not in a bad way,” he tacks on quickly.
I don’t answer. My mind’s already somewhere else.
Prude.
Frightened.
That’s what she called me.
Seconds before I watched her fall apart, her palms braced against the wall, her breath catching in gasps as her knees buckled under the weight of what I was doing to her.
My jaw clenches, and a muscle ticks near my temple. I feel the sudden and unwelcome rush of heat surging beneath my skin. My fingers curl into fists at my sides, knuckles whitening.
Christ.
Even the memory is enough to hijack my body. I take a slow breath, trying to cool the fire pooling low in my gut. Raffaele doesn’t notice—or maybe he does, but he’s smart enough to keep quiet for once.
“Do whatever you want,” I say gruffly. “She’s an employee at Moretti, not my personal asset.”
I bring the whiskey to my lips for the third time, this time draining half the glass in one long, burning swig—because if I don’t shut him up with words, maybe alcohol will do the trick.
Raff doesn’t say a word, but I feel his gaze tracking me as I walk out of the kitchen.
The moment I’m alone, I exhale hard, dragging my thumb and middle finger down my face. My skin feels too tight, my shoulders coiled like I’ve been bracing for a hit I never saw coming.
Is it that obvious?
That I went in cocky and came out scorched. That I touched her like I knew what I was doing—only to realize, somewhere in between her breathless whimpers and the way she said my name, that she had all the power.
I lean against the hallway wall and stare blankly at the floor.
Mistakes happen.And some mistakes have soft lips and defiant eyes that make you forget who the hell you are.
Whatever last night was—heat, impulse, weakness—it ends there. I let my guard down, and I’m not stupid enough to make that mistake twice.
Not with anyone.
And definitely not with Sophie Greco.
Chapter Five
Sophie
The sound of my alarm shrilling pierces my sleep, and I reach blindly for my phone with a groan to turn it off. My head is throbbing like someone took a hammer to it, and my mouth is dry.
“I need to sleep a bit more,” I mumble as I reach even further.
I slap my palm on the wooden attachment to the bed frame, vaguely wondering why I haven’t stumbled on my phone yet.
My hand flattens against cool wood again, and the confusion cuts through the fog of sleep. I crack one eye open, blinking slowly at the unfamiliar ceiling above me.
