Page 55 of Ruined By a Devil

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. The image of another woman in his space, in his bed, flashes through my mind, sending a sharp spark of jealousy straight through my chest. But the quiet certainty in his voice, cuts right through it.

I force a soft, dry laugh, raising my chin to meet his heavy stare.

Malachi’s hand closes the gap and his palm cups the side of my knee, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just hard enough to anchor me to the seat. The sudden, warm contact sends a jolt of heat straight between my legs, making my pussy wet and desperate under my panties.

He slowly leans in, closing the distance between our faces until his warm breath brushes against my bottom lip. His eyes are pure steel, utterly stripped of any humor.

“I've never needed more, Jade,” he whispers into my ear and the weight of his words hits me right in the chest.

He never needed more because he never tried to keep anyone before.

My lips part on a ragged gasp, my fingers gripping the edge of the leather console to keep from reaching out, tearing his shirt open, and pulling his mouth down to mine. The restraint radiating off him is terrifying, but it feels like it might snap any second now.

Malachi’s thumb drags across the soft inner curve of my knee, sliding up an inch into the shadow of my skirt and my thighs reflexively part, an unspoken, desperate invitation just for him. I blush at the realization that my body is constantly betraying every ounce of pride I have left.

He feels it.

I see the dark, dangerous shift in his eyes as he feels my legs give way under his touch. His jaw flexes, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he fights his own hunger.

“You're dripping for me right now,” he growls, his thumb pressing a little firmer into my thigh, right near the hem of my underwear, without crossing the line. “And you still haven't asked.”

My throat goes completely bone-dry. The friction, the heat, the sheer physical gravity of him sitting inches away from me in the dark car is suffocating. I want to tell him to go to hell. I want to pull his hand higher, drag his fingers straight into my wet pussy, and make him choke on his own rules. I’m even tempted to beg him to fuck me and get this over with, hoping that once I have a taste of it, it might be easier for me not to want it all the time.

Like that’s going to work.

Instead, I hold his gaze, refusing to break. “Then I guess we're both going to suffer tonight, husband,” I whisper back, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.

Malachi stares at me for what feels like an agonizing second, his thumb stroking the hot skin of my thigh one last time before he abruptly pulls his hand back. The sudden loss of his touch feels like a physical slap, leaving my skin cold and my core aching with an unbearable, throbbing emptiness.

He reaches over, pops his door open, and steps out into the cool air of the garage.

“Let’s go in, Jade,” he commands over his shoulder, his voice dropping back into that cold, impenetrable stone wall as he buttoned his suit jacket. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

I sit in the quiet darkness of the car for a moment, forcing my shallow breathing to slow down, my wet, desperate pussy pulsing with every beat of my heart, before I pull myself together and follow him into the house.

We’re getting married in two days.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jade

“Is he treating you right?” Mamma asks. “Because if he isn’t, it’s still not late to back out…”

“He is, Mamma,” I reassure her. “Malachi is a great guy.”

“Good, good.” Her voice trails away and I can hear her sniffling quietly. I’ve never pictured Mamma having this type of reaction because I was getting married. The woman has an emotional range of a designer purse, so I find it hard to picture her crying.

“Mamma?”

“Yes?” Her voice is weak when she speaks again.

“You should get some sleep, it’s pretty late,” I say.

“Oh my God,” She shouts, her mood suddenly shifting as she starts panicking. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that it’s past midnight? I shouldn’t have kept you up this late!”

“It’s okay, Mamma,” I smile, warmth spreading through my chest at the unusual exchange with my mother. “I have plenty of time to get a good rest.”

“No, no! It’s your wedding day, you must get your beauty sleep!” She insists. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight, Figlia.”