Page 46 of Ruthless Dream

“You need access to people.”

“And what do you need?” I ask because there’s a fire in her that’s not just raging about Jack and Wallen.

Adeline’s chest lifts, and my eyes dip.

“Like I said. You’re going to be a better boyfriend.”

“How am I going to do that.”

I hold back a smirk when Adeline tips her head back, surprised when our chests touch. She’s adorable sometimes. Pretending like she understands the world around her.

“Are there certain requirements you’re looking for?” I whisper.

She pushes a hand into my chest, shoving me back. “Yes, actually. You’re going to be the perfect boyfriend. Do you understand?”

Laughter loosens my chest. I’m here trying to make a fucking life for myself, and Adeline is worried people will judge her for hanging around a poor lad from Dublin. I should be furious, but it’s so shallow that a scraping of something akin to pity rears its head in my chest.

“Are you that afraid of people knowing you’re not perfect?”

The muscles in her neck tense, her face glitching. I smooth my thumb from her temple to her cheek, my fingers pinching under her chin.

“Because deep down you know you aren’t,” I tell her. “You’re better off admitting it rather than pretending otherwise.”

She leans closer, and I smile at the way she’s trying to bait me. “Says the man pretending to be a hero.”

“I know I’m not a hero.” I place a hand on my heart. “But I know what I’m after in life.”

“So do I,” she whispers.

My little perfectionist is a liar, but it’s fun to see this side of her. It’s even better knowing just a few minutes ago her father told me she’d grow tired of me. That she’d throw me to the side.

“You want to change the terms of our agreement?” I ask, making myself sound agreeable. “You want the world’s most perfect boyfriend.”

Shit, I’d been honest the night of Jack’s attack. I’m not interested in sticking around forever in America, but the O'Connells appreciate a well woven plan. And those take time.

“I’ll be your perfect boyfriend,” I agree. “But you’re going to be my perfect girlfriend.”

She angles her head, wariness rightly spreading across her face.

“See, because I have certain requirements myself.” My fingers trail down the side of her breasts, mapping the curves.

“Wow,” she deadpans. “A man wanting sex in return for something.”

I expect her to roll her eyes. To scoff. To tell me to fuck off.

Her hand pushes into my chest again, knocking me back. She’s there, pressing into me, her eyes unwavering as she speaks.

“Go on then,” she teases, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Take out your giant cock and fuck me.”

I roll out of her grasp, slamming her into the wall. She makes a face when her hair crushes but then goes back to the steely blank expression. She’s like a fucking switch, this woman. She babbles, she yells, and she argues all the fucking time. And then there are times when her face falls completely blank, and I swear I’m looking at something I shouldn’t have permission to see.

Does her family not see how fucking hard she buries herself under a busy schedule? She doesn’t give herself time to think.

She’s a dangerous desire because she never backs down. Instead of getting frustrated that I’ve got her pinned against the wall, she spreads her legs. Actually spreads her fucking legs.

Goddamn, if Jack hadn’t gotten her drunk, she might not have needed me that night. Without a doubt this woman can—and will—kill a man.

“You’ve not so humbly acted like you’ve got a big dick,” she says, “so go on and show a girl a good time.”