Page 258 of Ruin My Life
He looks like he wants to smile. But something stops him.
“You had Lola deliver your note,” he says, frowning. “You sent an email instead of telling me your plan.”
I exhale through my nose, bracing for the sting I know is coming.
“You would’ve stopped me,” I say plainly. “My intention was always to handle it myself. Lola was just… insurance.”
I lift my hands, cup his face, forcing his eyes on mine. His skin is warm under my palms—alive, real,mine.
“I never intended to leave you, Damon,” I whisper. “And I have no intention of ever doing it again.”
His eyes soften slowly. And then that smirk—hissmirk—curls at the corner of his mouth. Dangerous. Possessive. The one that makes my pulse forget how to behave.
“You’d better mean that,mi rosa,” he growls, voice low and lethal. “Because you’re mine. Like it or not, I’ll chase you down until we’re nothing but bones and dust.”
“And after that?” I dare.
His hand slides behind my neck.
Then he kisses me.
His lips are fire—hot and claiming. His tongue is pure possession, tangling with mine, slow at first, then demanding more.
His teeth catch my bottom lip, tugging until I part for him—helpless to stop it, desperate for it.
And when he owns my mouth completely, he steals every last breath from my lungs—only to then pour it right back into me.
When he finally lets me go, I’m gasping—half alive, half ruined. He lifts my chin with two fingers, holding my face steady. His eyes burn with heat and threat and something far more terrifying.
Devotion.
“I think I could convince your ghost to settle down in the afterlife,” he murmurs, barely holding his composure.
A shiver rakes down my spine.
The good kind. Thesinfulkind.
“Probably,” I whisper, and I don’t doubt it for a second.
“I get the feeling we’re interrupting. What do you think?”
Damon and I both turn at the voice by the door—though for me, it’s significantly harder, mostly because he still refuses to let go of my chin.
“I’d say you’re probably right,hermano,” Monroe says to Lee, pushing him into the room in a wheelchair. “But knowing Damon, it’s something we’ll all have to get used to.”
“I’m honestly just surprised it’s still relatively PG in here,” Chavez adds, holding the door open behind them.
“More like PG-13,” Lee deadpans from the chair, clearly feeling better than he looks.
“You boys are worse than some of the kids in PEDS,” Dahlia mutters as she steps in last, shooting Chavez a pointed glare.
They exchange a glance—then crack matching grins they both try and fail to smother.
Damon finally releases me, straightening up as he turns to face the chaos. “Dahlia, always a pleasure. Though did you really have to bring all the riffraff with you?”
Lee squints up at him, feigning deep offense. “Hey, I got shot. Pretty sure that puts me in my own category separate from these clowns.”
Monroe grunts. “Why do I feel like we’ll never hear the end of this?”
