Page 100 of Ruin My Life

“Is that so?”

I yank her closer, until she stumbles off her stool and into me.

She twists her body at the last second so her shoulder hits my chest instead of her breasts, but it doesn’t stop me from sliding an arm around her and pinning her back against me.

My palm wraps around her throat—firm, careful. Her pulse flutters beneath my thumb, quickening as it hits her that I have no intention of letting her go.

She presses her hands into my thighs like she’s trying to push me away—but her nails curl in instead, a silent dare for me to keep going. To challenge her.

My other hand snakes firmly around her waist, anchoring her in place.

I press hot, wet kisses down the slope of her shoulder, letting my teeth graze her skin as I make my way to the hollow of her throat.

She smells like a garden in a thunderstorm—floral, fresh, and laced with something electrifying.

By the time I reach the shell of her ear, her breath is hitching in shallow gasps. She’s melting under my touch—and she hates it.

I bite the skin just below her lobe and feel her tremble.

“Tell me, little rose,” I rasp, “was all of thisyourdecision?”

She exhales a long breath like a confession.

“What if I said yes?”

I tighten my hold on her neck just enough to make it uncomfortable—just enough to make sure she knows that right now, in this moment, Iownher.

She whimpers, soft and broken, her breath catching like it’s caught on barbed wire. And the sound nearly undoes me.

“I’d say you’re a liar,” I murmur. “And you know what I do to liars… don’t you?”

Her body answers before her mouth does. A tremor rolls down her spine—sharp and involuntary—and with her back pressed flush against me, I feel every nuance of it.

I push her chin up, forcing her gaze back to mine.

And there she is.

Not the mask. Not the seductress. But the fire.

Flushed cheeks. Wide pupils. Bottom lip caught between her teeth.

She looks at me like I’m both her salvation and her ruin.

And maybe I am.

“What would you do, Damon?” she whispers.

My name drips from her lips like honey poured over a razor blade.

Sweet. Addicting.Deadly.

And even if just a taste of her could kill me, I’d gladly die with her poison on my lips.

I open my mouth, ready to spill every filthy thought currently chewing through my brain—ready to tell her exactly what I’d do to her. How I’d make her beg. How I wouldn’t stop until she was hoarse from saying my name—

But then I catch sight of Connor, cutting through the crowd like a shark in dark, treacherous water.

He’s not exactly subtle in a place like this—tall, built, and dressed like he could buy the place twice over—but the scowl he’s wearing says enough.