Page 65 of Ruthless Vow
My hand falls from her mouth.
And then I do what I shouldn’t.
I brush the hair back from her face. Tender. Tuck it behind her ear the way I’ve watched her do a hundred times.
She goes rigid.
The change is instant. One second she’s loose against me, breathing slow. The next she’s pulling back, body tightening, reaching for the armor she’d let slip.
“Cassia.”
“We should.” She’s untangling herself, sliding down to her feet, not meeting my stare. “I should go. It’s late.”
I don’t release her. My grip brackets her hips, holding her against the bookshelf.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Pull away when I’m not hurting you.”
The question lands between us. She absorbs it, and her focus drops to my chest. A flinch she tries to disguise as a blink.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re fine when it’s rough.” I trace my thumb across her cheek, feather-light, and she flinches. “It’s this that makes you run.”
Silence.
My cock is still half-hard against her thigh. Her heartbeat pounds against my chest.
“Some people aren’t built for soft,” she says. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
It means everything.
We both know it.
But she’s slipping away, gathering her clothes, pulling her sweater back over her head.
I let her rebuild the distance. For now.
She reaches for the book where I tossed it. Holds it against her chest like a shield.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asks.
The question we always ask. The pattern we’ve fallen into.
“Same time tomorrow.”
She nods. Doesn’t look at me as she walks toward the door. Barefoot. Hair tangled. The flush still fading from her skin.
She disappears through the door.
I don’t stop her.
The truth settles into my gut like a stone.
She reads about love in secret. Keeps worn paperbacks hidden like contraband.
