Page 54 of Ruthless Vow
Within seconds, she’s asleep.
I should wake her. Send her to bed. Maintain the distance I swore to keep.
I don’t move.
Her hair smells like jasmine. Floral and soft, a scent that has no place in this world of blood and ledgers. Her glasses have slipped down her nose.
Without thinking, I reach over and remove them. Set them aside. Let my fingers brush her temple.
She makes a quiet sound. Burrows closer.
Cristo.
I sit there with her breath warm against me. Memorizing this.
When the clock strikes four, I know I can’t leave her here.
I stand with care. Slide one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back. Lift her against me.
She weighs nothing. She weighs everything.
Her hand curls into my shirt, fingers tangling in the fabric like she’s holding on even in sleep.
I carry her through the quiet house, past the dark portraits and the shadows that know all our secrets.
Our bedroom. The bed unmade, sheets tangled where she left them this morning.
I lay her down. Her grip on my shirt tightens, then releases. She sighs. Turns her face into the pillow.
The smart move is to go. Close the door and let this be the last time I touch her tonight.
But I’m standing at the edge of the bed, and she’s lying there in the moonlight, and my body doesn’t give a damn what my mind has decided.
I’m hard. Have been since she fell asleep on my shoulder, since her breath ghosted against my neck, since I lifted her and every curve pressed against me.
My cock strains against my slacks, aching.
I want her.
The truth burns through every barrier I’ve built. I want to hear her say my name. I want her underneath me. I want to feel her fall apart with my name on her lips.
My fingers twitch at my sides. I could touch her. Just once. Just her cheek, her hair, the curve of her hip beneath thin fabric.
She shifts in her sleep. The neckline of her dress gaps open, revealing the swell of her breast, the edge of lace beneath.
Cazzo.
My hands curl into fists. The ache is savage now, my cock so hard it hurts. My heartbeat pounds in my wrists, in the rigid length of me that wants nothing more than to sink into her and never come out.
She trusts me. She let me carry her here.
I can’t betray that. Not again.
I make myself step back. Then another step. Then another, until I hit the doorframe and can breathe at last.
She sleeps on, oblivious. Beautiful. Mine in every way except the ones that matter.
It can’t happen again.
