Page 74 of Ruin My Life

I wasn’t ready for that. Forher.

For the way she fought, the way she bled, the way shesmiledat the chaos like it was foreplay.

Fuck.

That was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long,longtime.

“Impressive,” I say, my voice still calm, even while my pulse is kicking in my throat.

My eyes drift over the ruined hotel room, the body, the blood. “Though... messier than usual. Or so I’ve heard.”

She shoots me a glare over her shoulder—fire and fury in one look. “Doing a little internet stalking of your own, Mr. King?”

My jaw tightens.

If she only knew…

“Keeping an eye on you,” I say instead, pointed and slow. “Which you should be grateful for, considering this display.”

She scoffs, rising to her feet like blood is just another accessory. She brushes off her dress—pointless, but oddly graceful.

“Should I?” she challenges. “You didn’t do much. Just sat at the edge of the bed like a cuck.”

I lean back on my palm, my gun still loose in my other hand. “You’re the one who said you didn’t need help. I was giving you the chance to prove it.”

“And I did.”

She starts toward me. Not limping. Not shaken. She stalks—long legs slicing the space between us, hips rolling like she owns the fucking room.

When she stops, she stands between my open thighs and raises the barrel of her gun until it presses right over my heart. Her voice is silk over steel.

“Do you need another demonstration?”

Fuck yes.

But not now. Not here.

She’s still vibrating from the fight, blood clinging to her lashes, gun smoke dancing off her skin like perfume. Every nerve in my body wants to pin her to the mattress and taste the aftermath of her violence.

But my control doesn’t break easily. And this isn’t the time.

I’m about ninety percent sure she won’t shoot me.

The other ten percent says she might enjoy it.

Hell, I might too.

I sit up straighter, shifting into her space until her gun digs into my chest. I wrap one hand around her waist andpull her in—slow, firm—until her balance tips and her knee plants itself on the mattress beside me.

She half-straddles my lap, the tension crackling between us like a downed powerline.

I press the barrel of my gun into her side, just beneath her ribs. A lover’s touch disguised as a threat.

“I bet I can pull the trigger faster than you can, little rose.”

Her scowl deepens, lips twitching like she’s fighting not to bare her teeth. But her body trembles subtly beneath my hands.

Not fear. Not quite.