Sweet Retribution (Ruthless Games 2)

And I don’t think he ever will.

“I’m sorry.” The words are a choked whisper, and tears stick to my eyelashes as I try to blink them away.

Ryland’s face cracks. Every bit of careful control falls away as he grabs my face in both hands and kisses me.

It’s an immolating kiss.

The kind that ruins you.

The kind you don’t walk away from unchanged.

His lips are hard and demanding, his tongue forceful as it invades my mouth. There was a hint of this in our kiss at the safe house the morning after they rescued me from Carson and Dominic. But I could feel Ryland holding himself back, pulling himself away from me, resisting with all his might.

Now? He’s not resisting.

He’s not holding back.

He’s… unleashed.

His kiss doesn’t stop, as if now that he’s started, he’ll die if he breaks the contact of our lips. His arms wrap around me, pinning my body to his as we gasp and groan into each other’s mouths.

My skin still feels overly sensitive, my heightened emotional state making my nerves buzz and hum like live wires.

But even though I feel everything tenfold right now, it doesn’t hurt to be touched by Ryland. It feels good.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing, carrying me over to the kitchen island and perching me on the edge of it, still kissing me fiercely. His hands tug at the zipper of my dress, dragging it down partway before giving up on the zipper and yanking the top of my dress down. He spreads my legs wider with his thigh, shoving the hem of my dress up as he steps between my thighs.

As my legs part, I realize how wet I am. My panties are soaked from just his hungry, devouring kiss.

He manages to work my dress off my arms, leaving the fabric bunched around my waist as his palms glide over my bare skin, skating over my shoulders before moving down to cup my breasts. He pinches one nipple sharply through my bra, and I yelp into his mouth, a sharp zing of pleasure and pain shooting through me. He does it again, and the noise I make this time is more like a moan. My nipple is hard as glass, the lace of my bra scratching against my skin as he rolls the little bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck, Ayla,” he mutters against my mouth. “I tried. Goddammit, I tried so hard not to want you. Not to fucking love you.”

I bite his bottom lip, dragging it between my teeth, and he grunts, wrapping his free arm around my lower back and hauling me closer to the edge of the kitchen island. His clothed cock grinds against my core, and we both shudder as he thrusts shallowly against me.

Releasing my breast, he reaches up to grab my chin, tilting my head up as he pulls his mouth away from mine. His spicy sandalwood scent permeates my senses, making me hungry for more of him.

“Don’t you see?” His hazel eyes burn into mine. “You’d be better off if I didn’t love you. If I didn’t need you. If we could let you go.”

Even as he speaks, even as he tries to talk both of us out of this, his hands don’t stop roaming over my body, and his hips don’t stop thrusting against mine.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe I would be better off. Maybe I would be safer.

But that’s not the fucking point anymore.

Because he doesn’t just need me. I need him too.

We’re in way too fucking deep by now. Might as well drown together.

I hook my legs around his waist and dig my heels into his ass, urging him closer, squeezing him tighter. My hand moves between us, awkwardly tugging at his tie to loosen it. I get it halfway untied before I get too impatient, moving on to his buttons instead, flicking them open until I can reach inside and run my palm over the hard, warm planes of his chest.

His muscles flex under my touch, and I pinch his nipple just like he pinched mine, drawing a growl from his lips. His mouth swoops down on mine again, capturing it in another eviscerating kiss as he slips a hand between my legs, shoving the wet fabric of my panties aside as he slides two fingers through my folds.

I shiver and tighten my hold around his waist, squeezing him with my legs.

“Ryland! Please!”