Page 26 of Ruined (The Knights of Ruin)

We were only inches apart now, and I could feel the heat of his body from where I stood. He was like the engine of his bike, running hot, and it was difficult to hold his gaze. The darkness of it was like a black lake I could fall into, drown in.

‘So,’ I said inanely, on edge and hyperaware, as if the slightest sound or sudden movement would cause me to jump sky-high. ‘Are you going to?’

Smoke reached out and slid his arm around my waist, pulling me right up against his body. And everything I’d been going to say went straight out of my head.

I couldn’t get enough air to breathe because he was hot. And hard. Everywhere. The arm around me was an iron band, holding me firmly where I was, and instinctively, I put up my hands and pressed my palms to the wall of his chest, trying to keep some distance between us.

But there was no distance to be had.

He was right there, up against every inch of me—my thighs, my hips, my stomach, my breasts. So fucking hot. So fucking hard. I could feel the flex and release of his muscles beneath my palms and I couldn’t repress the shiver that went straight down my spine. The shiver of deep female appreciation for male strength. Insane when, after Justin, I knew what male strength could do to a woman.

I felt it, though. It made my mouth dry with want.

I was trembling and I couldn’t stop. I felt like I was being slowly stripped down, taken apart like a gun or an engine, and all my pieces laid out so he could see how I was put together.

Don’t be stupid. Pretend, remember?

Yeah. That’s right. Pretend. Get a grip, Cat. Get a fucking grip.

I tilted my head back and looked up at him, because if this was a challenge, then I wanted to show him I could do it. I always wanted to show him I could do it.

The light behind him threw his face into shadow, but I could see his expression. It was taut, fierce, his gaze focusing on me with frightening intensity.

My heartbeat refused to slow down.

He lifted his other hand and, with careful deliberation, slid his fingers into my hair so they curved around my skull, cupping the back of my head in his palm. Then he curled his fingers up tight and I sucked in a startled breath as my hair was caught in his fist.

It didn’t hurt, but I realised with a sudden crashing awareness that he was now holding me fast. That I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to.

And that he was going to kiss me.

‘Smoke—’ I began, to stop him...encourage him... I had no idea. I never got the chance.

His mouth was on mine before I knew what was happening.

I froze in shock, going rigid, my mind utterly blank.

Then heat erupted along the entire length of my body. So much heat. It was like one of those arc welders applied directly to my skin, lighting me up from the inside out.

Frightened for reasons I didn’t understand, I pushed against his chest, wanting to get away, to put distance between us, between me and that all-consuming, terrifying heat.

But he didn’t let me go. In fact the arm around my waist only tightened further, leaving me in no doubt about who was in charge of this. He was. In every way.

I shivered, feeling small and feminine, vulnerable and utterly at his mercy. Panic shifted inside me and something else—something that wasn’t panic at all. Something that I very much feared was...excitement.

Then, before I could work out what the tangle of feelings were, slowly and deliberately Smoke continued to kiss me.

His lips were both hard and soft at the same time, brushing mine, a gentle tease. Then he ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, encouraging me to open and let him in.

I did and, oh, God, I tasted him. Raw, alcoholic, with a touch of sweetness like the kick of a really good bourbon. It made me tremble. Then his tongue slid into my mouth, exploring me, and I trembled even harder.

It had been so long since anyone had touched me like this, held me like this. So long since I’d been kissed. And now my best friend was kissing me and it felt like...

Jesus, it felt like a piece of a puzzle had clicked into place.

So wrong. This is your friend. This is pretend.

I tried to open my mouth to speak, to remind him or something—I didn’t know. But he wouldn’t let me do that either.

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