Page 23 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

Still, the alcohol stung less than the thought of Jace assuming he could get away with shit if he found Ivory alone. The mere thought of that asshole touching her again, looking at her, made him scowl. If he was about to get his hands dirty with the Dragons, he wouldn’t be there to protect her. He had to know she’d be okay—even if he had to push her limits.

ELEVEN

This whole thing had been a terrible idea.

She could deny their history, block out the warm fuzzy memories of walking down dark October streets, but couldn’t change how his presence called to her as he stepped through the door. How he wove into her mind without even speaking, the bitter tang of cigarettes prickling her nose.

Despite that, she had tried really, really hard to act normal.

She kept herself from constantly staring and hadn’t been overly curious while they conversed. Didn’t even ask why his hand was bleeding. Again. All she wanted was for him to take care of himself—something she wished equally for everyone she cared about. It wasn’t because he was special.

Then he had to pull the ultimate trump card, that sexy thing men do where they’re too lazy to use both hands yet talented enough to take off their shirt in one flawless motion. It made her want to slap him, and then maybe he’d bend her over his knee and teach her better.

Even when he called her out, riled her up, and amplified every bothersome feeling she’d ever felt towards him, she’d kept her focus. If she had to clean his knuckles herself, then so be it, but she wasn’t going to let it go. For the principle of the matter.

She didn’t like being mean. She didn’t want him to think she was mean—did he? Wouldn’t it have been meaner not to say anything?

“Pretend I’m Jace and tell me to fuck off,” he prompted as she cleaned his wounds. His voice was firm, barely above a whisper.

The fabric of his black jeans rubbed softly against her arm, and a scent under the layer of smoke caught her attention—a smooth, rich aroma that reminded her of cinnamon and nutmeg. She couldn’t look up from his knuckles, away from the rough, scraped skin, to see how his eyes would search hers. To let their golden stare take her breath away.

The fact that she hadn’t hyperventilated at being this close and touching him so casually had been a miracle.

“Say it for me,” Adrian repeated.

The words grated against her conscience, and she pressed on the alcohol wipe. Jace was the last person she wanted to think about. Sure, she could say exactly how pathetic and despicable he was in her thoughts, but to his face? With real words?

“I don’t think I could ever pretend you were Jace.” She sighed, glancing up. Adrian looked back with an unreadable expression. Besides, she didn’t want him to see her like that. He wasn’t the one who deserved it. “But I think you’re right. Jace might get the hint if I was more firm.”

So far, ignoring Jace had not equated to Jace ignoring her, but beating him up as her black knight did was out of the question. She’d have to learn to hold her own in some other way.

“Then start with something else,” Adrian said as his fingers absently slid against her arm, “I pissed you off earlier, so give me a piece of your mind. Don’t hold back.”

The invitation sunk in as she inspected his wounds one last time. Up close, a small collection of scratches was visible on the surface of his rings—unpolished, opposite to the chrome accents on his bike.

How could he cherish one so much and the other so little?

She pulled away to throw the cotton into the trash and zipped up the first aid kit. Holding her breath, she tried not to linger on the trail of dark hair leading down his navel or how it disappeared under the snug fit of his leather belt.

“Can I just say the cuss word and phrase it differently?” she asked. “You won’t take me seriously?”

“If that will help you stand up to Jace.”

The first time she’d heard Adrian swear popped into her head. Don’t waste your time on me, sweetheart. All you’d be to me is something to fuck.

She could do this. She could replicate his unfeigned attitude. Firm, but not overly abrasive. Squaring her shoulders, she put on a brave face and looked him straight in the eye.

“Fuck me.”

As soon as the phrase left her lips, he froze. Oh no. This was bad.

Very bad.

Her heart hammered out of control like a terrified rabbit.

“I’m sorry, it was the first thing that came to mind,” she whispered in a rush. The words only served to bounce around the bathroom walls and condemn her more. “I said it without thinking.”

She hung her head as heat rose over every inch of her skin. Adrian’s legs shifted in her peripheral vision. “I tried to not say please at the end if that helps,” she squeaked.

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