Page 65 of His Ruthless Match

“Is he living here now?” I whispered to Jareth, not daring to offend Grelth by saying it out loud.

“Relax. He’s not moving in. But he can veilstep to wherever I am, and he’ll pop in from time to time to cook, clean, do laundry—whatever you need.”

I looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you serious?”

“You made it clear how important it is that I contribute,” Jareth said with a shrug. “I don’t have time to do it all myself, so I’m outsourcing. You’ve got less to worry about now.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, I watched in stunned silence as Grelth gave me a sharp bow and busied himself with whatever culinary masterpiece he was about to create.

“I’ll start the water,” Jareth said as he disappeared around the corner

“Be right there.” I checked my phone and responded to a few emails. I knew I wouldn’t fully relax until I’d taken care of business.

Jareth patted my shoulder lightly, startling me from my thoughts. “Your warm bath awaits.”

He turned and headed toward the bathroom, leaving me to trail behind him like a dazed puppy.

He stopped at the bathroom door and gestured inside. The tub was filled to the brim with steaming water, and the scent of lavender and chamomile wafted through the air. The soft lighting cast a warm glow across the marble tiles, giving the space a spa-like feel.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Jareth stepped back and closed the door behind him.

I flicked the lock, then leaned against the door and exhaled deeply. My life was turning into some sort of bizarre fever dream. How had I gone from trying to clean up Genevieve’s messes to having my personal space invaded by a smartass bodyguard and his overly efficient assistant?

Shaking my head, I undressed and sank into the warm water with a contented sigh.

Even the bathroom was spotless. It had been a long time since my apartment had been so clean. I’d entertained hiring a professional cleaning service more than once, but Raffaele had always vetoed the idea. Too much risk, he’d said. Too many strangers poking around.

The thing was, he wasn’t wrong. And while I did my best to keep up with the cleaning, life often got in the way. Cases piled up, hours and days blurred together, and suddenly, I’d be staring at a layer of dust on the bookshelf and wondering how it got there.

It had been nice to walk into a spotless home. Not just nice. Incredible. Add to that the fully stocked fridge and pantry, and I couldn’t help but admit—begrudgingly—that Jareth’s invasion of my life wasn’t entirely awful.

The hot water lapped at my collarbones as I sank deeper into the tub, letting the warmth seep into my muscles. I tipped my head back against the smooth edge, my eyes fluttering shut asI tried to let the tension of the day dissolve. But my thoughts wouldn’t quiet. My stubborn brain was determined to fixate on one thing: Jareth.

Every sarcastic comment, every smirk, every time he insisted on taking control of my life like I couldn’t handle it myself drove me absolutely insane. And yet, the image of him sprawled on my couch, his chest bare, golden skin stretched taut over hard muscle, had burned itself into my brain.

It wasn’t fair, really. No one should look that good, especially not someone as aggravating as him. He was like every bad decision I’d ever made wrapped in one tall, cocky package with a sharp tongue and a body that could make a saint blush.

I exhaled slowly, trailing my fingers absently along the surface of the water. I hated him—at least, that’s what I told myself. But the way my body reacted when he was near suggested something far more inconvenient. My traitorous mind kept circling back to him. That time his hand had brushed my back when he held the elevator door. The way his eyes had raked over me when I came out of the bathroom in his oversized hoodie, like he wanted to devour me right there.

I bit my lip as I dragged my fingers lightly over my stomach under the water. I could still see him in my mind, leaning against my kitchen counter like he owned the place, his muscles rippling. His jeans had hung low on his hips, just enough to tease at what was beneath.

What would it be like if he didn’t hold back? If instead of teasing me, he actually acted on the heat in his eyes when he looked at me?

I could picture it so clearly. He’d walk into the bathroom now, his golden eyes locking on mine, that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’d close the distance in two strides, pull me from the water, and carry me to the bedroom.

My breath hitched at the thought, and I dipped my fingers lower.

I imagined his hands on me, rough and demanding, his body solid and warm against mine. He’d pin me to the bed, his mouth trailing over my skin, igniting every nerve. I let out a shaky breath, my fingers circling my clit as the fantasy took hold.

In my mind, he murmured filthy things in my ear as his hands explored my body. He’d know exactly what to do, exactly how to touch me, how to pull those desperate sounds from my throat that I’d never admit to making.

I pictured his head between my thighs, his strong hands gripping my hips as his tongue worked me over with maddening precision. I could almost feel the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against my skin. He’d growl against me. That sound—that deep, rumbling purr I’d heard him make before—reverberated through my imagination, the vibrations sinking deep into my core.

My fingers moved faster, my hips rising instinctively. I could practically feel him like he was actually there. His fingers would slide into me, slow at first, then building a rhythm that left me gasping for air. His name formed on my lips, though I didn’t dare say it aloud.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter, and when the release finally came, it crashed over me like a wave, leaving me trembling. My head fell back against the tub as I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out, the aftershocks rippling through me as my body relaxed into the warmth.

My satisfaction was short-lived.