Page 57 of Ruthless Claim

The apartment is quiet. She’s standing in front of me with her arms crossed and her chin up, genuinely angry.

“It’s…complicated,” I tell her, wanting this conversation to end.

“It’s not that complicated,” she says heatedly, her brown eyes flashing in irritation as she can see I’m trying to avoid talking. “You were a child when he took you in, and somehow you think you owe him a debt. You’ve been paying it ever since and at some point—and I’m not telling you when, that’s not for me to say—at some point the debt gets paid and what’s left is just him taking what he didn’t earn. You’re the only one who gets to decide when that is.”

She uncrosses her arms. “I’m not saying walk away. I’m saying look at it clearly.”

I look at her.

She looks back.

There’s so much I could say to this.

There’s the angry and scared eleven year old, the man I became because of what Connor gave me and what he cost me, the question of what I owe him that I have genuinely never let myself answer because the answer might be…inconvenient.

All of it sitting there and available.

And I don’t want it.

I turn away from her, wanting to go to bed. “I know,” I tell her dismissively.

She sighs frustratedly. “Cillian⁠—”

“I know,” I repeat. I cross to her and she doesn’t step back. Instead, she steps forward, meeting me halfway.

Her hands come up to my face and she kisses me.

The kiss starts tender but quickly deepens as the connection between us ignites.

There’s something different tonight and now’s not the time for me to examine it too closely.

Our kiss grows more heated, more urgent.

My hands roam over her body, feeling the curves I’ve been aching to touch.

I really don’t want to talk anymore about Connor’s treatment of me.

Instead, I want to do this.

I slide down the material of Valentina’s dress, my lips trailing along the curve of her shoulder before moving to the swell of her breast. “Fuck,” I murmur against her skin, feeling her shiver. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this.”

She moans softly, threading her fingers through my hair, arching her back to press herself against me. “Then stop thinking,” she whispers, her voice breathless. “And take me.”

That’s all the encouragement I need.

Without breaking our kiss, I lift her up and carry her to our bedroom, our movements hurried and desperate.

I lay her on the bed, my body covering hers.

The sheets are cool against my skin, but the heat between us is scorching.

I push her dress up around her hips, revealing the lace of her panties.

I smirk, running my hand over the fabric, feeling the dampness that’s already soaked through. “Already wet for me, aren’t you?”

Valentina bites her lip, fighting back a moan as she looks at me, her eyes dark with desire. “Why don’t you find out?”

I hook my fingers under the waistband of her panties and pull them down, tossing them aside.