Page 38 of Into Ruin

I move down the hall, my footsteps nearly silent, and stop in front of his door. My heart suddenly speeds up. I could go back to bed—it’s not too late for that. I could live with my name being on that WatchMe account.

But… no, I can’t.

I take a deep breath and put my fingers on his doorknob. A test. Then, carefully, fully palm it and twist.

It opens easily on silent hinges.

The room is dark, but notdark-dark. The blinds are open, letting in the glow from the streetlights outside. There’s some night-light-looking thing on his desk, a ball of glowing yellow that just barely beats back the shadows around it.

And there’s Camden, sitting on his bed. His feet are on the floor, his hands resting on his knees.

He doesn’t say anything when I enter. No quips, no rude remarks.

I close the door behind me and lock it, and I steel myself for what I have to do. If he doesn’t make it easy on me…

He won’t, a small voice in the back of my head whispers.

It’s only when I get closer can I see his eyes. The way they linger on my face for a moment before trailing down my body.

I didn’t know what to wear, so I just… I’m in a t-shirt and shorts. Nothing crazy, sure, but a little alluring. What if I came in here and he didn’t get hard at the thought of a blow job? I’ve heard of girls putting it flaccid in their mouth, and while that’sfine… I don’t really want to have to convince him to get there for me.

Maybe I’m crazy.

I’m definitely crazy.

He’s still not saying anything, so I match his energy. I step between his legs and stare down at him for a long moment. His head is level with my breasts. His hair is messed up, either from sleep or dragging his fingers through it. He’s bare-chested. His abdomen flexes, the ridiculous six-pack evident.

When I go to my knees, he sucks in the quietest breath. I keep eye contact for a moment longer, then drop my gaze to his lap.

There’s a tent in his boxers.

I inch forward, closer, and lift the elastic waistband. I pull it down, exposing his length. I run my tongue along my upper lip. My nerves buzz, but he hasn’t so much as shifted an inch. Just his eyes, his gaze hot on my face. They stay with me when I lean down and take him in my mouth.

When he doesn’t cup the back of my head or dictate my movements, I swirl my tongue and rise until just the tip remains. I go down again, deeper, and hollow my cheeks when he hits the back of my throat.

He lets out a low groan.

I hunt for those sounds as I continue, desperate to drive him crazy simply because I can. A thrill comes over me, a rush I can’t ignore.Don’t want to ignore. Instead, I lean into it until he can’t resist, and his fingers slip through my hair. His nails scratch my scalp, but the pressure doesn’t change.

Not until he sucks in a breath, and he pushes down.

I’m already down, but I suck hard anyway. He comes in my mouth. I swallow around him, my throat working, until there’s nothing else. His hand disappears.

I straighten and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, but I can’t seem to meet his gaze.

Camden catches my wrist. He tows me closer, so I automatically rise on my knees.

His other hand drifts to my face. My chin. He presses down, opening my mouth, and runs his finger along my lower lip.

Then he releases me.

I stand up and step back. The last thing I need—or want—is to be seen fixing myself up afterthat. I’m not embarrassed. I came in here with a purpose.

“The name.” My voice rasps out.

“Already changed.”

I stiffen.

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