Page 22 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

“I, um…think we have one in the bathroom,” Nia offered.

Ivory gave him a pointed look, and despite her scowl, the natural pink on her lips looked extra sweet today. He sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go, was she?

Frustrated even by his slow response, Ivory got up to head towards the bathroom. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then I will.”

He caught her arm as she walked by, expecting her to pull away, but she didn’t. Her breath hitched, and she stared down at him. “I’ll do it,” he said softly. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

“Clearly, I do.” Though the words carried her attitude, they came out gentle and meek.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Why?”

He genuinely wanted to know—why did she insist on looking out for him? After rejecting her and making her ride on his big scary bike, and now showing a glimpse of the kind of disaster he really was, why would she care?

“Because…” She hesitated and pulled her lip between her teeth. “I want my hair dyed. That’s why.” With a glance down, one that lingered on his abdomen before settling on his hand gripping her arm, she added, “I need those hands in good shape.”

In another scenario, he might have smirked, said something along the lines of my hands aren’t the only thing I can use on you, but her words went deeper than that. They meant more than a shallow innuendo—not just to her, but to him too.

She rolled her eyes, and he had to bite his tongue not to reprimand her attitude. “Come on. Such a big baby, what happened to my knight?”

“We’re just gonna play another match, cool?” Caspian said. Adrian gave him a nod.

He didn’t protest further as Ivory pulled him into the bathroom, sat him on the toilet, and gracefully kneeled to rummage for the first aid kit under the sink.

The game’s music started back up in the living room, but Ivory’s position took his mind off everything else. The apartment’s bathroom was tiny, and the only space left for her to sit was directly between his legs. He tried not to wonder what she’d do if he squared his shoulders, if he used that low, commanding tone and told her how pretty she looked on her knees.

No. This was exactly why he had to keep distance between them. Even though it would be twice as painful to see her walk away again.

“If you’d been this way around Jace, he would think twice about targeting you.” He spoke quietly enough for the words to not carry outside the bathroom and unsuccessfully tried to distract himself from watching the line of her sweater inch up the back of her thighs.

“What way?” she asked, voice muffled by the cabinet.

“The mean, stubborn way. Jace doesn’t deserve your kindness.” Neither did he, for that matter. But the more she offered it to him, the more he wanted to take it.

“I’m not mean.” She sat upright, pulling out a red and white bag and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Maybe a little stubborn.”

Oh, she had no idea. He’d love to teach her what that kind of stubbornness would get her—if he reversed the roles and showed her just how well he could take care of her needs. He’d insist on giving her what he thought was best, even when she asked for less. Even when she begged that she couldn’t take any more.

“So you’re only like that when you want to help someone else?” he asked. “Not when it comes to helping yourself?”

“Something like that,” she whispered. Her gaze found his belt, wavering as she trailed up his bare chest and landed on his face. She snapped her eyes back to his hand and carefully unwrapped the shirt.

His body stirred under the appraisal, her will alone enough to summon him to action despite his efforts to repress it. “Have you ever called him out? Told Jace to fuck off and walked away?”

She stiffened. “Not in those exact words. I’m hoping he’ll forget about me. There are other girls who want to be around him.”

“You’re hard to forget, sweetheart.”

He figured Jace would keep his distance after their little exchange, but that kind of guy rarely stopped. Once they found a target, they kept coming back like an addict. Taking away power from others was their drug, and she had to stop feeding into it. “I want him to see that side of you next time. You’re more than capable of putting him in his place.”

She didn’t reply, instead picking out a cotton ball and dousing it with alcohol, then tenderly gripped his hand. Her movements were much too gentle—too gratifying—as she dabbed at the skin around his rings.

“Does it hurt?” She no longer hid how her eyes wandered from his knuckles to the trail of dark hair disappearing under his beltline, leaving his skin hot and heart pounding.

Dammit, he shouldn’t have pulled that stupid stunt and taken off his shirt. “Yeah,” he murmured with a twitch of his lips. “But I’ll take the pain if it comes with the pleasure of having you care for me.”

She scoffed, concentrating as she moved over the deeper cuts where blood had dried in the cracks. He watched her for a while, using the pain to keep his mind off imagining what else her hands could do—or what they’d look like tied to his headboard. She’d consume his every thought if he wasn’t careful.

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me,” he added, then winced as she pressed harder.

---