Page 49 of Ruined (The Knights of Ruin)

I looked down at the light glossing her black hair, at her lashes dark against her cheeks like splashes of black ink. Christ, I was turning into a fucking poet.

‘They never changed. Not for me. I’ve always wanted you, kitten. Always.’

Her head came up sharply, her eyes wide, the look in them shocked as hell. ‘What? But...’ She blinked, the shock giving way to confusion. ‘Really? You never said anything... I mean, I never got the impression that...’ She stopped. ‘Seriously, Smoke?’

But I was done for the night, and I suspected so was she. We could have all this out in the morning, when the shock had worn off.

‘Tomorrow,’ I said shortly. ‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow.’

A spark of green temper flared in her gaze. ‘In between all the fucking, you mean?’

She was such brat... Jesus Christ.

I lifted my hand, took her little chin in between my thumb and forefinger, holding her still. ‘Maybe.’ I kept my voice quiet. ‘But only if you’re a very good girl and do exactly as you’re told.’

She snorted, like she was still my friend and we were kidding around with each other. But it was time she stopped thinking that shit, so I bent my head and kissed her hard, pushing my tongue into her hot mouth, silencing her.

A tremble shook her and she made a soft, desperate noise. Then she tipped her head back further, letting me kiss her deeper, her tongue meeting mine and sliding along it. It was a taste and a tease and a taunt all in one. Her hands were pressed against my chest, there was the scent of musk and Cat filling my senses, and suddenly I didn’t want to wait till morning. I wanted her again—right the fuck now.

But she’d been leading me around by my dick for years and I was sick of it. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known I wanted her. I didn’t give a fuck how unfair or otherwise that was. I was the one in charge from now on and that was how it would stay.

I lifted my head, ignoring her soft moan of protest, and with my stupid fucking cock aching like it hadn’t been inside her only an hour ago, I stepped back and away from her. ‘Time for bed, kitten.’

An expression I couldn’t read flashed over her face, then it was gone. She lifted a shoulder like she didn’t give a shit—which made her a damn liar, considering her cheeks were flushed and her mouth looked full and swollen.

‘I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket,’ she muttered, and turned away, heading out of the lounge.

A minute or two later she was back, a pillow in one hand, a blanket in the other, and going over to the couch, making a production of putting the pillow down and laying the blanket out flat.

Once she’d finished she made an awkward gesture towards the couch. ‘There. It’s done.’

A silence fell and I let it hang, because I was being a prick and enjoying the way the tension between us made her blush even more. Another sign that our friendship really was dead and gone.

Maybe I should have felt regret about that, but I didn’t. Our friendship had been built on lies anyway—or at least for me it had been. The lie that I didn’t want to make her mine in every way that counted.

Yeah, I was risking everything on this. But, then again, how much of a risk could it truly be? I wasn’t going to let her go. Not now. Not ever.

Pushing my hands into my pockets, I met her gaze. ‘Goodnight, Cat.’

She held it. ‘Goodnight, Dane.’

Then she turned around and walked out.

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