Page 131 of Sweet Ruin

She’d be as sweet between the legs as she is between her lips. There’s no part of her I wouldn’t savor and linger over.

She’d moan.

She’d yield.

She’d be soft and submissive and perfect and womanly, she’d explode for me at the flick of a tongue…

I’m turning her, walking her back into the coats to bring all my fantasies to life, when the door bursts open.

The hallway light interrupts first.

Then the flash.

It’s white and blinding in a room this small. Pop! Pop!

It goes off once, twice, and the third one catches me with my hand still on her hip and my mouth on hers.

Delilah rips herself back so fast she stumbles. I catch her elbow before she can fall, set her on her feet, and then put myself in between her and whoever the fuck dared to sneak up on us.

When the starbursts clear from my eyes, I see who it is.

Little guy. Cheap jacket. A camera up in both hands, and he’s backing across the marble taking pictures the whole way. The smug smile on his face says he can’t believe his good luck.

He’s fast.

But my men are faster.

Anton comes off the wall by the ballroom doors and Yuri arrives from the front. They swallow the photographer up.

Anton snatches the camera strap from around the man’s neck and Yuri immediately replaces it with his arm in a chokehold. The man squeals as Yuri lifts him off the ground by his throat.

Anton looks at me with the camera hanging off his fist.

I straighten my cuff. Then I look at him and give him a nod. Grimacing, Yuri hauls the man off his feet and starts marching him toward the service corridor at the back of the lobby.

“Wait,” Delilah says. “Wait— what are they— where are they taking him?”

“To the back.”

“To the back for what?”

“To ask him questions.”

They go through the swinging door at the end of the corridor. The door swings twice and stops.

I turn around. Delilah’s got the shawl back up over her shoulder. Her lipstick is smeared and messy, her mouth is swollen, and her hair has come loose from its pins on one side. On her collarbone, the red imprint of my thumb shines bright.

I bet the picture of her melting into me is fucking priceless.

She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, then takes it away and looks at it like she expects to find blood.

She’s breathing hard. So am I.

I reach out for her. “Come here.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think I should come anywhere near you right now.”

So I go to her, because there’s another part of this evening we haven’t arrived at yet.