Page 44 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

Even the smallest details, like his favorite band or the scars he got from falling off his first bicycle, felt significant. Almost like he was telling someone else for the first time. Maybe he was.

She could listen to him talk for hours, picking up on the inflections of his voice and watching shadows move across his jaw and cheekbones.

When he asked her the same questions, it didn’t feel forced or insincere. His eyes shone as he listened, and instead of laughing at the stories where she embarrassed herself, he was polite enough to say she’d been cute—even though walking around with her shirt inside out in high school was not cute, more like ridiculous. It ruined any chance she had at a decent reputation when her mother posted it online.

She explained how she’d decided to be a teacher, recalling all the names of the students she used to tutor and some who still sent her Christmas cards. Helping others had brought her joy, and now it’d become her purpose.

Adrian smiled when she told him she’d been sticking glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling in precise constellations since she learned what they were and once spent an extra hour talking about deep space objects with her physics teacher after school.

When her ex came up, it didn’t feel as weird as she thought it would be. For the first time, the ache that came with that particular topic felt more like a sour memory, not a parasite gnawing into her chest.

“He broke everything off the same day he got accepted,” she explained. “It hurt—a lot more than I wanted to admit, but I think it was better that way. I wasn’t left holding onto false hope of him being faithful in a long-distance relationship.”

Adrian scowled. “See, that’s a prime example of someone who claims to be smart but clearly lacks intelligence.”

She laughed. While it was soothing to think her ex was the one who truly lost out, that hadn’t made the breakup any easier.

The conversation continued, less one-sided than she’d gotten used to with other guys. It felt good. By the time he’d learned about her family and all the things she missed away at college—how she couldn’t stress-bake like normal, and sometimes it felt weird not being able to bug her brother—their hour had run up.

TWENTY-ONE

“Should be time to rinse your hair out,” Adrian said, standing. “Shall we?”

“Yes!” she squealed, jumping up. “I’m so excited to see how it looks.” Now that he’d allowed her to open up without the aid of tequila, her exuberance spilled out in full force.

“Glad to hear it.” His lips tipped up as he dragged the stool over to the sink and motioned for her to sit with her back toward the counter. “This isn’t the most ideal setup, but it’s the best I got.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, straddling the stool.

“Okay, lean back for me,” he instructed, setting a hand on her back for support. “Let’s see if we need to adjust anything.”

Bracing her toes on the floor, she let him guide her backward until the nape of her neck hit the plastic-covered counter.

“Look at that, perfect,” he murmured, withdrawing his hand as his gaze roamed over her face. She wasn’t sure if he’d been referring to the placement of the stool or something else. Her chest rose as she took in a breath, and the coincidence of their position sent a thrill through her system.

Him standing over her, with a view of everything from the tip of her toes to the crown of her head. Her breathless and eager for his touch.

Is this how being his submissive would feel?

“Are you comfortable enough?” he asked, eyes still fixed on her so he could read any trace of apprehension.

“Yeah,” she replied, anticipation sparking across the surface of her skin.

The stool offered little to no support, and it wasn’t a pose she could maintain for long, but something about being exposed like this, restricted and vulnerable while he watched, made it worth the slight discomfort.

“The water can’t be hot, or it will dilute the dye,” he said, reaching over to turn on the sink. “I’ll try not to make it too cold, though.” His stomach brushed against her shoulder, and the thin shirt did nothing to hide the firmness of the muscles underneath. A woodsy scent wrapped around her, the pungent tartness of smoke mixed with a lighter fragrance of laundry detergent and fresh deodorant.

“Okay,” she whispered, her earlier energy funneling lower in her abdomen as he slipped the cap off her head.

Chilled water began to flow over her scalp, and his fingers wove into her hair, cradling her head and lending some of his warmth. Her eyes drifted closed as he began to work at rinsing the dye down to her roots.

“Not too cold?” he asked.

“No.” She sighed and relaxed further into his hands. “I can handle it.”

“Good girl,” he hummed, his voice a low rumble from his chest.

Her breath hitched, body thrumming with pleasure at his dark tone. Despite only being able to set her toes on the ground when she sat down, her heels now rested on the floor, and her knees fell to either side of the stool. Here with Adrian, she felt no different than being wrapped in a cozy blanket of stars and galaxies. This was right—whole. With her black knight by her side, nothing had the power to drag her down. His darkness became a sheath, a defense against the world.

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