Page 9 of Velvet Corruption

Ruby sighed, her breath a soft caress against my chest. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer the term ‘optimistic,’” I said, running a hand through her dark hair. It was getting longer, the curls starting to take on a life of their own. She usually kept it straight for work, but I liked it better like this—wild and untamed, like her when she let her guard down.

She traced slow circles on my chest, absentmindedly, like her body hadn’t gotten the memo that she was trying to end this. And for one selfish, fleeting second, I let myself believe it. That maybe this could be our life. That maybe I could come home to her every night, kiss her shoulder while she cooked, complain about the news, fight about what to watch on TV. That maybe I was allowed to want that.

“Kieran,” she started, and I braced myself. “I can’t afford to lose my job. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“And if anyone finds out about us…”

“Nobody ever has to know,” I said. “And I’m just saying — the offer’s there if you don’t have any other plans. If you do, I won’t get mad. I just hope tonight wasn’t the last time I’ll ever see you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic—I’ll see you next weekend,” she said. “But I get to pick the movies.”

She smiled when she said it. Like it was already a memory.

But…she was lying.

Because I didn’t see her next weekend. We didn’t catch a movie, we didn’t get Chinese food.

No…I didn’t see her at all.

I didn’t see her again foreight years.

And that’s how I found myself on a Friday night, waiting for Ruby to show up at my apartment, heart pounding like I hadn’t already had her hands on me.

We’d met up again that weekend—after the gym. One drink turned into two, turned into my lips against her neck and my fingers playing with her pussy in the alley behind the bar. The way she kissed me? Desperate. Like she’d been waiting just as long as I had to break the seal.

That first night blurred fast—hot skin, breathless laughter, the press of her hips against mine like she couldn’t get close enough. She’d asked me to take her home. I’d indulged her…then I’d indulged her again.

And again.

And it hadn’t stopped there. Every weekend since, we found our way back to each other. We didn’t talk about what it meant. We just kept showing up. And somehow, it kept getting better.

There were a lot of things I liked about Ruby Marquez—her sharp wit, her stubborn streak, the way she could look at me likeshe saw straight through the layers I built to survive my family. But what really did me in? The way she touched me like she owned me. Like this wasn’t just a fling.

She was busy, but she always made time. Not just to fuck—but yeah, that too. And god, she was so good at it.

Tonight was no different. I should’ve been used to it by now, but I wasn’t. I was restless, wired. I cleaned the apartment with the same energy I used to burn in the ring—hyper-focused, a little reckless. I told myself it was about being polite, being a good host. But really, it was about her. About wanting her to see the parts of me I hadn’t let her near before.

Not just charm and bravado. But something real.

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts and my heart pounded against my chest as I opened it. Ruby stood there, dressed casually in black skinny jeans and a simple white blouse that hugged her curves in all the right places, a denim jacket on her shoulders. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes sparkled with expectation.

It puzzled me why she still dressed up; she would be naked in minutes.

“Kieran,” she greeted with a slight nod of her head, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“You took a while.”

“Traffic,” she said, already sliding her jacket off and draping it over the back of a chair. “Shouldn’t you be offering me a drink?”

“I should,” I agreed. She was stepping out of her boots now. “What would you like, Rubes? I’ve got whiskey and bad IPAs.”

She shrugged, looking nonchalant…unbuttoning her blouse. Fuck, she was sexy. “Whatever you’re having.”

I nodded and moved to the bar, pouring two glasses of scotch. I handed her one, only glancing at her half-unbuttoned blouse, and our fingers brushed in the exchange. The contact jolted me, a spark of electricity that shot straight to my cock.