Page 44 of The Ache That Stayed

Fighting had rules. Fighting was familiar. But this careful quiet between us felt far more dangerous. Because arguments kept things on the surface. Silence let everything underneath breathe.

And for the first time since he came back, I realised we weren’t circling each other anymore.

We were closing in.

CHAPTER 12

Santino

Iwoke up to an empty house. The silence gnawed at the noise in my head.

I didn’t know how I got through the night.

At dinner, all I could think about was her mouth around my finger. The rise and fall of her chest. The outline of her nipples through the thin fabric of her t-shirt when I licked her finger clean. The way her shorts hugged her ass when she moved.

Every time her lips closed around a piece of bread, my brain supplied a different image.

My cock. Her mouth.

And I hated how badly I wanted to watch her eyes water while she choked on it. The thought should’ve shamed me. It didn’t. It felt inevitable.

I could barely concentrate on my food. I walked away before the monster inside took over me.

If I stayed close to her long enough, my restraint would break.

And worse, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop it.

It was already ten by the time I reached the manor site.

I kept my distance. Far enough to give her space and pretend it was security. Close enough to remind myself she was near, but not mine to touch.

I fished out my phone and messaged her.

She glanced at her phone, frowned, then slipped it back into her jacket like she refused to engage.

She saw the message again. I saw her brows draw together as she turned her head, scanning for me.

She looked in my direction, like she knew exactly where I was hiding.

Watching. Waiting.

Like I had been doing for the past week.

Proximity to her was a problem. Being under the same roof, hearing her move from room to room, watching her pretend I didn’t exist—it fed something I’d locked down. And now, it was testing the strength of its restraints.

I had told myself I came back for a reason.

To protect her. To eliminate any threat aimed in her direction.

It was logic. But logic doesn’t react when she laughs in another room. Logic doesn’t go still when she walks past in those goddamn shorts. Logic doesn’t remember the exact shape of her mouth.

The monster does.

And it had been starving—for years.

I’d taught it to sit. To watch. To stay behind my teeth when she laughed with Marcello.

It wanted to take what it had been denied. To drag her into my ruin with me and keep her there until she stopped looking for a way out. To watch her touch the ugliest parts of me without flinching.