Page 78 of Mine to Ruin

We stumble into the elevator then into his penthouse, clothes flying in every direction as soon as we’re through the door. He grunts when he struggles to open the delicate buttons of my shirt.

“If I don’t get inside you right now, I am going to lose my damn mind.”

I giggle. “So romantic.”

We undress in a rush, the desperation pushing us on. He throws me onto the bed and buries his face between my thighs. My orgasm is swift, making my legs shake, his mouth and fingers glistening with my release.

“Please, baby, I need you inside of me, I can’t…”

Desperation colors my voice; desperation pushes his every move. He wraps himself in the condom he just picked up, and one thrust later, he’s inside me.

Yes, how I missed him filling me. Feeling him again inside me is divine. Every hard ridge, every maddening stretch, every savage heartbeat. He propels me straight to a world of pleasure, and I enjoy the ride, higher and higher until I’m dizzy, but still craving more. Always more with him.

He groans, and I moan at the same time. I feel him everywhere, ruining me, owning me, worshiping me with his lips, fingers, cock.

“You’re mine, angel, and I won’t deny myself the pleasure of having you ever again.”

“You’re mine, too. Just mine,” I say breathlessly.

“Only fucking yours. Take me, because I am fucking desperate to give you everything in me.”

When we come down, we lie face to face, and he trails a finger down my hip.

“I would do anything for my brother. I even gave you up. But to ensure he has this carefree life, all smiles and no care in the world, I’m the one who ended up fucked in the head.”

I lift my head up from where it’s resting on his chest. “Baby, you’re loyal, determined, hard working. We all are fucked up, but your experiences have created an amazing, strong man.”

He pulls me to him and rests his forehead against mine.

“You are the amazing one.”

After a beat of silence, he asks, “Will you still take me to your parents?”

“Of course.”

He lets a relieved breath out. I love him, this man, and my insides are made of bubbles, and on every bubble it’s his face. His breath evens and deepens. Knowing him, he didn’t sleep the past few nights. I kiss him goodnight and follow him into slumber.

When I wake up, his lips are caressing my chin, his nose brushing my neck. I wrap my arms loosely around his neck, humming in delight, still half asleep.

“Mmmm, I love you.” I sleepily whisper it and freeze, realizing I said that aloud. Can I take it back?

It wouldn’t make it any less true. His face closes up, eyes seeking mine, but he says nothing. With my heart drumming in my chest, I let the moment slide, hoping he suffers from slight amnesia and forgets about my slip.

Not a word of my slip when I get ready for the day, or he accompanies me to the studio. He kisses me goodbye, and then I am alone, a nagging feeling following me around. Even though I wasn’t completely awake when I said the words to him, I meant them. I wonder if he’s going to ignore what I said because he doesn’t feel the same or if I scared him off.

“What’s up, little Picasso?”

I shriek when I hear Brandon’s voice and jump back.

“You look like you’re about to puke.” He huffs and adds, “What did he do this time?”

“No, this is entirely on me.”

Brandon raises his brow and I plop down on my stool and cover my face with my hands.

“I told him I love him.”

“Ah.” A pause. “Did he freak out?”

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