It wasn’t the fear that pushed her toward him. It was the relief. Relief that he was still there.
Relief that he hadn’t taken off and left her there alone. Relief that someone had looked at her, truly looked, and chosen to stay.
Ant was in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, hands braced on the counter like he was holding himself together through sheer force of will. The tension in him was coiled tight, almost vibrating. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“You didn’t eat anything tonight,” he said without turning around.
“I’m not hungry,” she lied.
“You have to be hungry, Ruby. You worked all day and then came home and went straight out to see the Harlots. You have to be starving,” Ant insisted. Ruby stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. Close enough to smell soap and leather and something uniquely him.
“You’re blaming yourself,” she said quietly.
“I should’ve known,” he replied. “Should’ve seen it.”
“You’re not psychic,” she teased.
“No. But I’m trained to read men like that,” he said. She slid her hand over his back, palm flattening between his shoulder blades. He went still beneath her touch. As though he was waiting for her to make the next move.
“You can’t carry every monster in the world on your shoulders,” she whispered. His breathing became slower and deeper.
“You almost became one of his victims,” he said roughly.
“But I didn’t because you were there, Ant,” she insisted. Her fingers curled in his shirt. “You saved me from him, not once but twice,” she whispered.
He turned then, and the look in his eyes wasn’t just anger anymore. It wasn’t just protectiveness. It was hunger. Not the kind of hunger she saw in the eyes of men who had come to the club to watch her dance. Not the kind of hunger she got from men who thought they’d paid for access to her body. This was different and dangerous in a way that made her pulse jump.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“I’ve been shaking for two days,” she joked. His hand lifted slowly, giving her time to step back, but she didn’t. His knuckles brushed her cheek, barely there.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
Ruby didn’t hesitate. “Don’t stop, Ant.” That seemed to be the only green light that he needed. He dipped his head to kiss her, and she didn’t back away from him—she couldn’t now. Ruby wanted to kiss him more than she had ever wanted anything.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It was restrained fire. His mouth found hers like he’d been holding back for too long, like every unsaid thing between them had condensed into this moment. Ruby rose onto her toes, gripping his shirt, needing something solid, something real—him.
He groaned low in his throat when she pressed closer. His hands slid to her waist — firm but not claiming as his thumbs dug in just enough to remind her he was there. Not taking or demanding, but asking her permission. She answered by kissing him harder.
There was no stage light. No performance and no pretending—just her. When his hands trailed up her sides, under the hem of her shirt, her breath caught, and he paused.
“Ruby,” he said, his voice thick with everything that they hadn’t said to each other yet. “If this is about proving something?—”
“It’s not,” she cut in. “It’s about finally doing something that I want to do.” He searched her face as though making sure that they were on the same page. And when he saw the certainty in her eyes staring back at him, something in him seemed to break loose.
He lifted her onto the counter in one smooth motion, his body settling between her knees. The contact made her gasp — heat meeting heat, tension meeting tension. She wrapped her legs around his hips without thinking. His mouth moved to herneck, slower now. Every move he made felt more intentional. Every touch felt measured, like he was memorizing her.
Her hands slid into his hair, tugging lightly. “You don’t have to be careful with me.”
His breath ghosted over her skin. “I do.” The difference between this and the club hit her like lightning. There, she’d controlled every inch. Every angle. Every smile. But here, she just let go.
When his hand slid along her thigh, pushing the fabric higher, she didn’t tense. The power was still hers — because she was giving it.
His forehead pressed to hers. “You sure?” he asked one last time.
She nodded. “Yes.” Ruby felt wanted for the first time in a long time. It wasn’t like the men down at the club watching her with lust in their eyes. When Ant looked at her, she felt special, but most of all, wanted.
Ant tugged her to the edge of the counter, helping her shimmy out of her pants, leaving her bare on his countertop. She felt as though she was holding her breath waiting for him to kiss his way down her body. He settled between her legs, licking his way through her drenched folds. Ruby grabbed onto the counter like it was the only thing keeping her from falling on the floor. He made her wild as he ate her pussy, making him cry out his name over and over.
