My Ruin to You - Chapter 87

Valen leaned back leisurely, bracing himself with a palm against the mattress. His gaze toward Roseline, still burrowed under the blankets, held a hint of mischievous amusement—like a troublemaking child. Roseline’s lips twitched as if she had plenty to say, but in the end, she let out a sigh instead.

“What?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s fine. Say it.”
“I won’t. What if I upset you again?”

This time, the whole tent might collapse.

Roseline muttered the last part under her breath, barely audible, and Valen’s smile deepened. Without warning, his hand shot out, snatching her ankle from beneath the blankets. “Ah—!” As she was dragged forward in a flustered scramble, the covers slid down past her shoulders.

His gaze traced the soft curve from her ankle to the inside of her thigh—slow, deliberate, hungry. Roseline desperately yanked the hem of his borrowed shirt down, but it was hopelessly inadequate. Valen chuckled at her efforts, his fingers idly stroking the delicate arch of her foot. The more she squirmed, the tighter his grip became.

It was the same pattern as earlier when she’d been trapped in his arms. Only when Roseline finally went limp in resignation did he relax, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if praising her surrender.

“How exactly would you ‘upset’ me?”
“How should I know? It’s not me who’s upset.”
“Are you threatening to walk out bare-legged if I don’t give you clothes?”
“I do have some shame!”
“Good. Then we’re settled.”

The words were a warning—this concession was harmless, but if she pushed her luck again, he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. Letting her parade outside half-dressed would humiliate her, not him. The fact that she even considered it blackmail material was absurd, and any man who entertained the thought was hardly sane to begin with.

“Can’t you just give them to me already? I’m cold.”

Roseline tugged the discarded blankets back over her legs. Valen, who’d been kneading her ankle and sole like they belonged to him, slid his hand higher, testing the warmth behind her knee. The skin there was feverish compared to her calf, but his cool touch quickly leached the heat away.

“Just a kiss.”

He withdrew his hand with visible reluctance and offered a compromise. Roseline wrinkled her nose in disgust, eyeing him like the incorrigible libertine he was. Valen laughed—a soft, fond sound—and shrugged.

“I promise. No hands.”

He spread his arms wide, palms braced against the bed. A gesture of surrender, yet also stubborn resolve: he would get that kiss.

“Just a kiss?”
“Of course.”
“You promised.”

Roseline inched forward, wary as a rabbit sniffing a trap. Valen didn’t move, letting her come to him. When their lips finally met, it was fleeting—a brush so light it could’ve been accidental. But as she tried to pull away, his breath ghosted over her mouth, teasing.

“…That barely counted.”

“You didn’t specify how long it had to be.”

His smirk was infuriating. Roseline huffed, but the tension had already bled out of her shoulders. Valen exhaled through his nose, amused, and finally reached for the bundle beside the bed—a neatly folded set of clothes.

“Here. Before you freeze to death.”

She snatched them with a glare, but the way her fingers curled gratefully into the fabric betrayed her. Valen watched, chin propped on his hand, as she ducked back under the blankets to dress.

“Next time,” he mused, “I’ll make sure you have nothing to change into.”

The muffled shriek from beneath the covers was worth it.

Valen nodded agreeably, but Roseline’s suspicion didn’t fade so easily. He was a man who kept his promises—technically. The problem was that he adhered strictly to the letter of his word, not the spirit. For instance, he might avoid using his hands but find other… creative ways to cause trouble. Years of experience had taught her caution, but with Merrick waiting outside, she didn’t have time to deliberate.

“Close your eyes,” she demanded.

“Since when did a single kiss require so much negotiation?”

He sighed in exasperation but obediently shut his eyes. His long lashes cast delicate shadows over his unfairly perfect features. Roseline’s gaze flickered over the sharp bridge of his nose, his relaxed lips, and the clean line of his jaw—somehow even more striking now that he wasn’t staring at her with those piercing eyes. Leaning in, she pressed a feather-light kiss to his mouth, then immediately recoiled as if burned.

“What was that?”

For once, Valen looked genuinely baffled. Roseline blinked at him, feigning innocence.

“I kissed you.”

“Do I need to specify how far your tongue should go? Or the technique?”

“Yes.”