Page 67 of Ruthless Scoundrel
“I’m literally made of fire inside,” she says, her eyes glowing a deep blue that warms my face.
I cup the back of her neck, ensuring she can’t escape this. “And you are much hotter than me, I’ll admit.”
Suddenly, her expression falls. “You’re deeply troubled, and you need help, but you’re too scared to ask for it.”
Like plunging into ice, my body goes rigid. I pull back and stand, needing distance from her and the words that are much too true. She saw all this in just a week. What have the Men I’ve been interacting with for the last ten years seen?
“The bathwater is ready,” I say, though I’m not sure it’s true.
I pull the crane out of the fire and grab the handle of the first bucket. Reina gasps out my name and then I feel my error burning through my palm. I drop the bucket into the bathtub with a curse and hot water splashes over the edge.
She rounds on me and grabs my hand, inspecting the burn. “Not much sense at all.”
Blue sparkles leak into my palm and the painful heat disappears, replaced with the soothing drag of her fingers.
“This world is cruel,” Reina says. “I know you couldn’t ask for help because there was no one you could trust.”
She looks at me and my heart leaps into my throat, making a big, ugly knot.
“I think we can trust each other, Jasper.”
I huff. “Trusted me enough to let me get my face between your legs.”
Her face goes shrewd. “Do you always do that?”
“Do what? Make women come?” I ask, my guts feeling like chum.
Her eyes pierce me. “Hide behind sarcasm.”
I snort. “Hmm, nice one. Got me back.”
She smiles. “Use the potholders next time.”
I glance at the tools hanging beside the fireplace and notice the pair of massive mitts covered in singe marks. “That would’ve been smart.”
She releases me and I turn to the fireplace, grabbing the potholders. I pour the partially spilled bucket into the bath and grab the next one. The boiling water hisses against the bare side of the bucket as I drain it into the steaming tub.
Reina appears across from me as I dump the last bucket and my breath catches in my chest. Her tanned legs press together as she clasps her hands in front of her—not hiding herself, but nervous. My eyes drift up her form without my input in the slightest until finally I realize I’m staring at a naked princess.
I turn back to the fireplace and put away the mitts.
“What? It’s not as if you haven’t seen it before, or tasted me…” she says and my dick, which had checked out a few minutes ago, is suddenly back in the fight.
“I thought you had better sense,” I say, leaning my forehead against my arm on the mantle, trying to burn the thoughts out of my mind.
“Sometimes not, I guess,” she says. I hear her hiss in a breath as she steps into the bath.
“That water was justboiling,” I remind her, barely keeping myself from whirling around and pulling her out.
“It feels great,” she says, and then moans as she lowers herself deeper.
“You’re insane,” I mutter, trying to ignore the way her sounds have more blood pumping to my groin.
“Better than being boring,” she says. “Is there soap?”
I glance around the mantle, not wanting to turn around for some stupid reason. I have already seen all of her, and sucked on, kissed, or tongued most of her. This isn’t anything special, or different.
Except it feels like it is.
