Page 33 of Ruin My Life (Blood & Betrayal #1)

Damon

“ M ORE.”

It’s like she flipped a switch buried deep in my chest. Like that single, perfect, four-letter word were my activation phrase, and now there’s not single thought that doesn’t begin and end with her .

I shouldn’t do this.

She has ulterior motives. I’d be a fucking idiot to miss the way she moved toward me tonight—those hips, that look, the silk shorts she knew would drive me out of my goddamn mind.

But she also knew I wouldn’t be able to resist her.

That’s what makes her dangerous.

What makes her lethal .

She’s the only temptation I’ve given into in the last two years. And now, with one taste of her on my tongue, I’m addicted to the poison she carries in every whisper, every look, every fucking breath.

Because it tastes like her.

I crash my lips to hers again, hard and desperate. My hands grip the backs of her thighs the second the word leaves her mouth, and I lift her into my arms like she belongs there—like there’s nowhere else in the world she could ever be.

She fits against me perfectly.

Every curve against every hard edge.

Every breath synced to mine.

Like we were carved from the same broken stone .

She wraps her arms around my neck, ankles locking behind my back. I carry her down the hall to the last door on the left—the room I never sleep in, the room I barely know how to exist in anymore.

I kick my bedroom door open and head straight for the bed. The curtains are drawn, and moonlight cuts the room in silver.

All the rooms in this penthouse are set up the same, mainly because I could barely figure how to decorate one of these giant bedrooms, let alone six of them differently.

I lower her onto the mattress and her fingers tighten on my shoulders like she’s scared I might leave her here.

She doesn’t understand— nothing could make me leave her now.

She could pull a knife, drive it into my ribs, and I’d probably beg her to cut me again if it meant she’d let me have her.

I’m so fucking gone for her, I don’t even care how far I fall.

I strip off my shirt with one hand and toss it aside, then meet her eyes as I unbuckle my belt. Her gaze moves over me slowly, hungrily, like she’s just now seeing me for the first time.

Moonlight clings to the curve of her cheekbone, her parted lips, the rise and fall of her chest beneath her T-shirt. It sparkles in her gorgeous hazel eyes as she drinks me in like fresh water after a drought.

Fuck.

If I wasn’t rock hard for her already, I am now.

I slip my belt out of its loops and drop it onto the floor by my feet, my eyes on her the whole time. I watch her eyes drift lower, to the deep V that’s revealed as my jeans ride low on my hips.

“See something you like, little rose?” I ask, my thumbs hooked in the waistband of my jeans.

Her eyes snap up to mine, and her cheeks flush.

“No,” she says—too fast. But that fire’s still flickering in her gaze when she adds, “I’ve seen better.”

I smirk. “Oh yeah? ”

I shove my jeans and briefs down in one motion, and her eyes drop again—to my cock, thick and painfully hard for her.

She stares.

Her jaw falls open.

Then shuts again like she’s trying to pull herself together.

She swallows hard. Blinks at me—at it.

I reach for her waistband next, dragging her shorts and panties down her thighs, slow and deliberate.

“Still sure you’ve seen better?”

She doesn’t answer, because she can’t.

I crawl onto the bed and brace myself above her, lowering just enough that the head of my cock grazes her stomach where her shirt’s ridden up.

She shivers. “That is not going to fit.”

I grin, but my voice stays soft.

“Having second thoughts about more ?”

Her face shifts—something flickers.

Hesitation.

Not fear, but uncertainty.

I pull back, giving her space, even as my heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to break out.

Her chest rises and falls like she’s been running. Her eyes flick down to where I hover between her thighs, then up to my chest, my mouth, anywhere but my eyes.

I want nothing more than to bury my cock inside her warm, slick pussy, feel her grip me like a vice. But I won’t if she’s having second thoughts.

There’s no part of me that wants this enough to hurt her.

I lift a hand to her chin, pin it gently between my thumb and forefinger, and tilt her gaze back to mine. I pull back every mask I’ve ever worn in front of her.

The hardened killer.

The sarcastic asshole.

The obsessive protector.

I strip away every layer until she can see the me that lies beneath—the me that I’ve only ever shown to the people I trust.

The man who cares too strongly, loves too deeply .

Because I’m falling in love with her. God help me, I am.

I want to give her every ounce of air in my lungs, every pint of blood in my veins, every second left of my life—just to make her feel safe and secure.

More than anything, I want her to trust me.

Even though I don’t deserve it.

I want to study her thoughts, map every shadow in her mind, carefully reconstruct her walls until there’s a little door where she can let me in, even when she wants to keep the rest of the world out.

“Say the word and this stops,” I whisper, every syllable weighed down by honesty.

“There’s nothing in this world that could stop me from wanting you.

But you can always stop me from touching you.

If it’s not what you want, just say it. I may have trained these hands to kill, but they were always designed to protect. ”

Her eyes hold mine, unblinking.

A single heartbeat passes, but it feels like a lifetime compressed into one suspended breath.

Then, slowly, her hands rise. They land flat on my chest, and my gut twists—I think she’s going to push me away.

So I start to pull back.

But there’s no push. No retreat. Her palms slowly slide over my shoulders before her fingers lace behind my neck.

Her grip anchors me. Keeps me here.

“I want this,” she breathes. “I need it.”

My chest tightens at her words.

I lower again, guided by the tether of her hands, and she meets me halfway with a kiss that’s nothing like the last. It’s softer, cautious even.

She’s treading carefully—like I’m foreign.

Like we didn’t just kiss like animals in the living room.

Like she hasn’t already come all over my fingers tonight.

I follow her lead—slow, measured, but no less hungry.

Her hands move into my hair as mine slide down the curve of her bare thigh. I trace up gently, avoiding the lingering burn on her leg, and curl my fingers into her waist, pulling her closer as I kiss her deeper .

She’s whimpering against my mouth now, hips shifting beneath me, her kisses growing more desperate.

When my hand glides beneath her shirt, pushing past the warm slope of her ribs, my fingers brushing the swell of her breast—

She tenses.

Her palm presses against my chest.

I freeze. Just like I promised. My heart pounds, but I wait.

Her grip on my neck doesn’t falter, and the fire in her eyes hasn’t dimmed—just shifted.

I don’t move. I don’t ask. I just wait for her to speak.

“Leave my shirt on.” She says it so softly that it almost sounds like a plea. “Please.”

Something in me breaks at the lack of edge in her voice—the fear behind her eyes.

But I don’t ask why.

She’s trusting me to be this close, and this is obviously a line she doesn’t want me to cross. Whether she wants to tell me why or not isn’t my business.

At least not right now.

“Okay,” I say, just as softly.

I pull my hand from beneath her shirt and smooth the hem back down over her stomach. Then I cup her breast overtop of the fabric instead, rolling her stiff nipple between my fingers through the thin cotton.

Her back arches beautifully beneath me.

“Is this better?” I ask, my voice low, reverent.

She nods, but that’s not good enough.

“Use your words, little rose,” I murmur into her ear, and pinch her nipple just hard enough to make her cry out.

“Yes,” she moans, hips rolling against me until the head of my cock slides through her slick folds, coating me in her desire.

Fuck.

I shudder at the sensation—her warmth, the way she’s soaked for me, the way she moves against me like she’s trying to draw me inside without words.

My entire body strains with restraint .

I want to savour this. Make it slow. Burn the image of her like this into every cell of my body.

But she’s grinding against me, whispering more .

And I’ve already passed the point of no return.

I line myself up, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance, swollen and slick from how much she wants this.

Wants me .

She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth, her thighs twitching around my hips.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” I whisper against her ear, my lips brushing the shell. “You can take it.”

Her nails dig into my back the second I push in that first inch. I still, letting her adjust, even as every muscle in my body trembles with restraint.

Her breaths are short, shallow—almost panicked.

I lower my mouth, kiss her slow and deep, coaxing her to match the rhythm of my tongue instead of the tremor in her lungs.

“You’re okay,” I murmur between kisses. “You’re doing so fucking good.”

“Damon...” My name leaves her lips like a broken prayer, half moan, half cry. “Please. Don’t stop.”

A growl rumbles low in my chest, primal and possessive, as I sink in deeper. Her pussy clamps down on me, a desperate, perfect grip that threatens to tear me apart. Inch by inch, I fight the urge to slam home.

She’s so tight, so wet, so fucking everything —I feel like I’m being devoured.

She moans, sharp and breathy, and the sound spurs me on. I bury my face in her neck and groan as I bottom out, her body gripping me like she was made to break me.

“ Fuck . You feel so fucking good.” My fingers find her hip, anchoring myself as her nails leave claw marks across my back.

The sting feels earned. A reminder that she’s all thorns beneath those soft curves—and I’d rather bleed than let her go .

I drag my teeth over the smooth column of her neck, then sink them gently into her skin, just above her collarbone. She gasps, hissing at the mark I leave behind.

I want everyone to know she’s mine. From this night forward.

I start slow. Letting her feel every inch as I roll my hips.

But she’s not content with slow.

She grips me tighter, her pussy milking me with every thrust, pulling me deeper.

My control slips. The rhythm quickens. Her moans become scattered, raw.

But I can tell—she’s still holding back.

And I don’t want that.

I want all of her.

I want her to come apart at the seams. To let go of whatever she has in her head.

I want her to let it all go until I’m the only thing left to hold onto.

I reach between us, my fingers finding her clit, slick and swollen. The moment I brush my thumb over it, she jerks beneath me, hips bucking hard.

“Oh, fuck me ,” she groans, her voice wrecked, wild.

She grinds into my palm like it’s the only thing tethering her to reality, meeting each of my thrusts with a need that burns all the way down to my bones.

I find the rhythm—the one that makes her breath hitch, makes her hips rise to meet mine perfectly, every time.

My cock drives into her again and again as I circle her clit—slow and firm—watching every twitch, every quake.

“Let go, Brie,” I growl, capturing her lip between my teeth and tugging. “I’ve got you. You can shatter all you want—I’ll pick up every jagged piece and put you back together again.”

Her whole body tightens, hands clawing at my shoulders, legs locked around my hips as her pussy clenches hard around me.

The moment she falls, I go with her—pulled into the undertow of her orgasm like I was born to drown there. I bury myself deep and let go, pouring everything I am into her .

I collapse onto my elbows, my forearms bracketing her head, my breath stolen by the look on her face as she comes undone beneath me.

She’s fucking glowing .

Blush blooming up her neck, dusting over the subtle freckles that usually dot her cheeks. Her eyes squeeze shut, brows drawn tight as her breath comes out in exasperated huffs.

But as her body softens, her lips curve into the faintest, sleepiest smile.

And it kills me.

When her eyes open—heavy, hazy, and blown wide—I can barely breathe. They’re dark and consuming, a thin ring of that hazel green left at the rims.

Every one of her sharp edges has softened, yet I know she could still take my life in a second.

“Beautiful. Lethal.”

I run the back of my knuckles down her cheek, soaking in the feel of her.

“ Mine. ”