Page 43 of 10 Days to Ruin

I do the best I can to stand my ground on shaky legs. “That you don’t own me. That I can walk into your world and walk right out.”

He drains the glass in one go and sets it back down with a harshclink. “Then do it. Walk out.”

“Watch me.” I grab my clutch, heading for the elevator.

He’s on me in three strides, backing me against the wall.

“What are you doing?” I breathe. “You told me to leave.”

“I told you to try.” His lips hover over mine. “So leave. Or kiss me.”

I hate him.

I loathe him.

I kiss him.

This time, it’s slower. Deeper. A freefall with no parachute. His hands frame my face, tender in a way that terrifies me. His tongue clashes with mine, playful, teasing, here and gone, sweet and skillful. I taste the tang of vodka and the sweetness of the fig tarts. When he pulls back, his breath ghosts my lips. “Stay.”

Yes.

No.

Yes.

I wind my fingers through his hair, dragging him to the floor. The rug burns my knees, but I don’t care. He yanks his shirt off, and I map the scars on his chest with my tongue. Each one is a story I’ll never ask for.

The whole time, I tell myself I’m doing this as a power play.Keep the upper hand. Play his game. Show him what he wants and then take it away before he gets it.

The whole time, I’m lying.

His belt clatters open, his zipper rasps, and then his hands are under my thighs, pulling me astride him. “Ariel…”

His fingers dig into my hips. I rock against him, friction burning through the lace of my underwear. He hisses, head falling back. “Fuck. You’re?—”

I cover his mouth with my hand. “Don’t ruin it.”

He nips my palm, eyes blazing, and flips us. The world spins. When he sits up, his teeth find my earlobe. “Tell me you want this.”

“No.”

“Liar.” He grinds against me, and I choke on a moan. “Tell me.”

“I want?—”

Glass shatters.

We freeze, the sound jarring in the thick silence. But then I see it. Sasha’s forgotten vodka glass, knocked from the table by our stumbling little dance. It lies in glittering shards across the floor.

It’s the wakeup call I needed.What’s the prize for winning this game, Ari? How is this “pushing him away”? Aren’t you going to end up just as broken as that?

I scramble away from him, dress hanging off one shoulder. He reaches for me. “Ariel?—”

I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

He sits back on his heels, chest still heaving. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Like what? Like I’m being blackmailed into marriage by a monster?” I laugh, the sound sharp as the glass shards surrounding us. “That’s exactly what this is.”

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