Page 52 of Vows of Ruin

I glance down at myself, feigning innocence. “Is this what you had in mind when you said something leather?”

His eyes darken. Feral. Hungry. Possessive. “You’re going to ruin me.”

He stands and stalks toward me, slow, but there’s nothing soft about the way he lifts me, hands gripping my thighs as I wrap them around his waist. My back hits the wall. His mouth crashes onto mine, all tongue and need. It’s not a kiss, it’s a war declaration. I surrender.

The way he’s kissing me, our souls are fucking before our clothes even hit the floor. He turns and walks us to the bed, laying me down like I’m breakable. The way he looks at me tells me he's about to do anything but handle me gently. I can’t wait.

Liam pulls back enough to look down at me, eyes dark with heat, a lazy smile curving his mouth, “This…” he says, his voice low and smooth, “Is exactly what I had in mind.”

His fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, working them open one at a time with a slowness that feels almost cruel.

I prop myself up on my elbows, watching him. “You’re doing that on purpose,” I murmur, dragging one hand slowly up the inside of my thigh while the other cups my breast through the leather. “Trying to kill me with anticipation?”

His eyes flick to my hand, and he groans, faltering on the next button. “You’re evil.”

“You’re taking too long,” I say, biting my bottom lip, tilting my head in that way I know drives him wild.

The rest of his clothes hit the floor faster after that. He’s on me again, kissing me like he can’t get enough, his hand trailing between my thighs, spreading them slowly. His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping skin, and the sharp sting of a bite makes me moan. He does it again, lower this time, leaving a path of bruises like he’s signing his name.

His hands fumble at the leather straps of my lingerie. He growls in frustration. “How the hell did you get into this thing?”

“Magic,” I whisper with a wicked smile.

“I can’t get it off.” He tugs again, swearing under his breath.

I glance at the nightstand. “You can cut me out of it.”

His head snaps to follow my gaze, landing on the dagger resting beside the lamp.

“Savage,” he mutters, eyes gleaming.

“You like it.”

His hands hover over the dagger for a moment, just long enough to make my pulse quicken, before he grips the handle and turns back to me, eyes dark with desire.

“You trust me?” he asks, voice gravel and heat.

I nod without hesitation, “With my life.”

He kneels beside me on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Then hold still, Little warrior.”

The way he says it, possessive, reverent, dangerous, sends a shiver down my spine.

I watch, breath catching, as he brings the blade to my body. His hand doesn’t tremble. Not even a little. He starts at my shoulder, sliding the cold metal beneath one strap of the leather harness. With one careful slice, it gives way.

I can’t help the moan that comes out of me. He smirks and repeats the motion on the other side, eyes never leaving mine.

“This shouldn’t be so fucking hot,” he murmurs, voice thick with restraint. “But here we are.”

A breathless laugh escapes me. “Are you going to narrate the whole thing, or are you going to finish what you started?”

That does it. He groans low in his throat, slipping the blade through the center clasp with precision before tossing it to the side, peeling the leather from my skin like a gift he’s waited years to unwrap.

“Jesus, Wren,” he breathes. “You’re unreal.”

Then his mouth is on me again, hungry and unrelenting. He kisses me like I’m made of fire and he’s willing to burn.

His hand slides between my thighs, fingers teasing until I’m squirming, gasping his name. When he finally replaces his fingers with his mouth, I’m gone, arching off the bed, hand fisting in his hair as his name falls from my lips like a prayer. “Lee—Liam.”