Page 92 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

Closing his eyes, he leaned back into the unforgiving brick wall. Rolling Raptor’s cigarette between his fingers brought a familiar comfort—but so did Ivory’s hand, her delicate grip smoothing over his knuckles.

“Are you okay?” she whispered after a minute of silence.

Not really. But hearing her voice, the perfect mixture of silken and assuring, reached into his psyche and quieted his turbulent thoughts.

“I can manage.” He sighed and pulled her closer. They’d find a way through this. Somehow, he had to untangle himself from the web of lies and crime without letting it touch Ivory. The sweet smell of her hair reminded him how to breathe, and she circled her arms around his waist, the slope of her breasts nestled to his chest and calming his heart.

“Is Cortez really that bad?” she quietly asked.

He exhaled and tucked away a strand of purple hair that escaped from her ribbon. “It’s not him, it’s his position.” Tipping his head back, he forced himself to breathe in the cold, polluted air and looked for stars he knew would be hidden by city lights. “He’s the president of Royal Flush. I won’t let him or his damn club interfere with my life. Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Ivory hummed, nodding as if a gang power struggle was just another physics problem. Her gaze drifted to the cigarette clutched in his hand. “Are you going to smoke that?”

“No.” He shook his head and tossed the vile thing on the ground.

His mind was a shit show, caught between reliving the same guilt and rage that haunted him day after day and the iron-clad determination that drove him to protect the people he still could. But as much as his body craved it, shouted at him to smoke just one more time, he wouldn’t lose all the progress Ivory helped him gain.

“Adrian,” she whispered.

He looked down and caught sight of her black dress, teasing along the bevel of her collarbone in contrast to her pale skin. She looked so out of place in this dingy back alley. Lust mingled with the dark fury gathering in his mind.

“Yes?” He cupped her jaw, felt the thrum of her pulse sure and steady under his fingers.

If he focused on her, then maybe he could stay in the present. Maybe he could regain his humanity, even if the world forced him to become a monster.

“It’s okay to hurt.” She regarded him with a kind smile and dark olive eyes, pools of shadow that swirled with empathy. “We all need someone else sometimes.”

Dammit.

He was so close to breaking. The weight of it all pushing him toward the edge of a cliff—but maybe she knew that even better than he did.

“The only person I need is you,” he whispered, dragging her in to brush his lips over hers. He drank in the warm breath of her soft, sweet sigh. Then his hand tangled in her hair, fingers digging into her scalp to hold her in place. Any closer and he’d combust out of need, any farther and his heart would shatter out of desperation.

Either way, he was going to lose. Like he always did.

“I’m here for you,” she breathed, eyes fluttering open, lashes a laced veil of shadow. “In whatever way you need me.”

Need.

Yes, he needed her. How could she be so sweet and so wickedly tempting at the same time? So caring and so heartfelt that there was no way he could ever let her go? He’d gladly spend the rest of his life in servitude in order to return everything she gave.

A part of him yearned to expose the parts of him he’d locked away. To show her every dark thing he’d dragged around for so many years, wanted her to see every neglected crevice of his being and infuse him with her clever mind and enduring compassion.

Fuck, he wanted to snatch her up and keep her locked inside his chest forever. But surely that was asking too much. Surely, this would be going too far, and so soon after she’d agreed to be his.

She pressed her hips forward into his growing erection, and he groaned in the best kind of agony he’d ever felt. “Sweetheart,” he warned.

“Please,” she begged.

He needed her, yet she took it upon herself to plead for him.

Flipping them around, he pinned her against the wall between his arms. Heat seeped off her skin and spiked his pulse as her body became pliant and bent to his will.

“You remember how to stop me?” he rasped, muscles flexing, coiled tight and hard.

She shivered. “Yes, sir.”

Her breaths were short and quick, lips plump and parted as if she needed more air, needed the oxygen to awaken her senses.

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