Page 174 of Theirs to Ruin

"Then come for me, Camille,” he growled. “Come all over my fingers.”

And with that command, I shattered. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, obliterating everything else. I clenched around his fingers, the sensations overwhelming, my vision blurring at the edges.

As the tremors subsided, Ty pulled his fingers from me. He didn’t pull me into his arms. He didn’t embrace me. Instead, he threw a blanket over me then stood.

I curled into myself and even as my body still trembled with pleasure, shame filled me. That was as close to a hate fuck as I’d probably ever experience in my life. I was too embarrassed to move. To say anything. I didn’t want to face him.

Or myself.

So I curled even tighter into myself and closed my eyes.

Sometime later, the gentle rustling of paper pulled me from sleep. Groggily, I opened my eyes. I knew instantly I was in Ty’s room after he’d made me come then abandoned me. I gripped the blanket, keeping it over me, then slowly turned over.

Ty was seated at his desk, his focus entirely on the large sketchpad in front of him, the rhythmic movements of his hand and the soft scratching of his pencil the only sounds in the room.

My cheeks flushed as I recalled the things he’d done to me, the things he’d said. Slowly, I forced myself out of the bed, taking the blanket with me. I gathered my scattered clothes then stared at Ty. Every line of his body screamed tension, and yet his hands moved with a fluidity that was fascinating.

Taking a deep breath, I walked up to him and looked over his shoulder.

Spread out across his desk were several sketches. There was one of an old tree, its gnarled branches reaching skyward as though in silent supplication. Another drawing depicted the stormy sea, waves crashing with a fervor that seemed to mirror the tempest of emotions I was feeling. But it was the third drawing that truly captured my attention: a beautifully intricate compass. Every detail, from the elegant script of the cardinal directions to the ornate needle at its center, was rendered with loving precision. It had a timeless, vintage feel to it and, instantly, I could picture it inked into my skin, a permanent mark to guide my way when I was lost.

Only there was no such guidance waiting for me.

"You were always talented with your hands," I said.

He continued drawing, the pencil moving almost frenetically now.

I turned to leave, but Ty's voice stopped me. “Forget what we had before, Camille. I’m not that guy and haven’t been for a long time.”

"I can't forget," I said, my voice quivering slightly. "Whether you like it or not, you'll always be that boy in Italy who danced with me under the stars. The one who dragged me to the peak of that mountain just to watch the sunrise." My throat tightened, and I fought to keep my voice steady. "But then again, you’ll always be the boy that broke my heart. Two years ago and again today. So I’m letting you go, Ty, this time for good, because if I don’t, you’ll do it again, won’t you?"

I kept my back to him but heard him clearly when he said, "Yes."

"Okay," I said as a lone tear trailed down my cheek.

I stepped into the hall. The distance between Ty's room and mine never felt so long but I took one step at a time. In my room, I shut the door, and dropped my clothes and the blanket I’d wrapped around me. I turned the shower water on until it wasscalding hot then washed away the feel of him, the memories, and the heartache.

I didn’t cry any more tears.

I was resolved.

I was letting Ty go. Finally. Completely.

When I was done with my shower, I dried off, put on some fresh clothes then headed for my bed. There was a small jewelry box on top of it that hadn’t been there when I’d walked in. When I opened the box, I lost my breath. My fingers traced the ornate edges of the locket—my mother's locket.

It was more than just a trinket; it was a connection to my past, to the woman who’d been my entire world.

All these years, Ty had kept it.

The tears I’d held back now flowed freely. I clutched the locket tightly to my chest, its cold metal pressing against my warm skin. I cried for my mother, for the lost moments and memories. And in those tears, I mourned the love Ty and I once had.

His message was clear. The locket was the last thread connecting us, the last piece of me he'd held onto. By giving it back, he’d not only returned a precious piece of my past but had also severed the last tie that bound us.

I fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. As sad as I was, my chest felt lighter somehow, as if the locket was the key to freeing two souls so they could finally find their separate paths after being entangled for so long.

Chapter 72

Ty

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