Page 108 of His Ruthless Match

A bottle of white wine and a half-empty glass stood on the table beside her. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

I exhaled softly, my chest constricting at the thought of being near her. Everything in me—the bond, my instincts, my own heart—pulled me toward her. I couldn’t resist. Quietly, I changed my glass for a wine glass and made my way to the balcony doors.

When I slid the door open, the cool night air brushed against my face. Eva’s head turned slightly at the sound. She glanced over her shoulder, and the small smile she gave me was enough to jolt my pulse into a gallop.

“Can’t sleep either?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Not even close,” she replied, turning her gaze back toward the skyline. She gestured toward the bottle without looking at me again. “There’s plenty left. Help yourself.”

I filled my glass, then stepped closer to her.

She leaned against the railing. Her silk shorts clung to her hips, and my throat went dry. I wanted to yank them off her and take her right here on the balcony in the cool night air. I settled on the small sofa near the window, cradling my glass in my hands. From that vantage point, I could observe her profile, the delicate line of her jaw, the vulnerable curve of her neck.

The bond was like a living thing, pulsing and tugging at me. I didn’t know how she could be so close and not feel it too. Or maybe she did feel it, in her own way, and I just didn’t have the courage to ask.

Eva turned and took a sip of her wine as she leaned back against the railing. Her gaze locked on mine, filled with questions.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around my wine glass. Every logical part of me screamed for caution—tell her gently, gauge her reaction, don’t rush. But logic didn’t stand a chance against the pull I felt toward her.

She put her glass down on the table, then walked toward me with slow, deliberate grace. It was like she already knew how this would end, as though every step was part of some choreography we both understood.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My heart thudded harder with each step she took. When she stopped right in front of me, time seemed to pause. I could smell the subtle hint of vanilla and lavender on her skin and see the golden reflection of city lights dancing in her eyes.

She didn’t ask for permission—she simply lowered herself onto my lap and straddled my thighs. My hands went to her hipson instinct, my fingers digging into the silk that covered her. That thin layer felt like both a barrier and an invitation.

“Eva…” Her name fell like a plea from my lips.

She pressed her lips to mine in a kiss that started gentle and quickly became fierce. It was as if she’d been holding back all night, and now the dam had broken. She tasted of wine and something sweet that was purely her.

I slid my hands up her sides, feeling the warmth of her body through the silk. Her heart was pounding just as wildly as mine, thumping against my palm when I pressed a hand over her rib cage. She rolled her hips, and I groaned into her mouth, my control unraveling faster than I’d anticipated.

I broke the kiss to gasp for air. “You’re driving me insane, Eva.”

She gave a breathy laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. “Right back at you,” she whispered, nipping at my lower lip.

My hands roamed lower, brushing the bare skin beneath her shorts. Fuck, she wasn’t wearing anything under the flimsy fabric. Desire rushed through me, and I squeezed her thigh gently, unable to stifle the moan that escaped my lips.

She shifted back just a fraction. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted. The pure want in her eyes made my stomach twist in a heady mix of need and wonder. I tugged my sweats down enough to free myself.

Neither of us spoke as she pulled her shorts down and slowly lowered herself onto me. She was so tight, so fucking warm, that I couldn’t help the raw sound that tore from my chest.

“Gods,” I breathed. “Eva…”

She braced herself on my shoulders, digging her nails into my skin. When she started to move, my world narrowed to just that moment—the friction, the rhythm, the small gasps she made each time I thrust up to meet her.

“You feel…” I couldn’t find the words. My voice was ragged, barely coherent. “You feel so good. Better than I ever?—”

She slid the straps of her top down her arms, revealing those perfect breasts. I cupped her breast and leaned forward to trace her skin with my tongue. She arched into me with a soft, broken moan that vibrated through my entire being.

“Jareth,” she whispered my name like it was a confession. Her tone made my heart clench in the most delicious way, and I knew we were crossing a line we could never return from.

I wanted to tell her about the bond, about my terror that she might walk away. I wanted her to know she was mine in every sense of the word, that I was hers too, whether she realized it or not. But I couldn’t find the words, so I let my body do the speaking.

I slipped one arm around her waist, steadying her as I thrust upward, setting a deeper, more frantic pace. She gasped, her nails scraping over my shoulders, leaving tingling trails of sensation in their wake. I reveled in every sound she made, every stuttered breath, every quiver that ran through her.

When she began to move faster, I felt her walls clench around me, and I knew she was close. “That’s it,” I growled, tightening my grip on her hips to guide her in just the right way. “Let go, Eva. I want to feel you.”

Her breath hitched, and then she cried out, shuddering against me as she reached her climax. The sight of her surrendering so completely—the flush across her chest, the way her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted in that perfect O of bliss—pushed me over the edge. I groaned her name, burying my face in the crook of her neck as my own release tore through me.