Page 285 of Love Me in the Dark
She’s still here.
I half-expected her to disappear like a mirage. Like something my mind conjured to comfort me through another night of wanting. But she’s here. Curled against me in that oversized shirt I made her wear after tearing through her clothes to claim her. My shirt. Her leg’s slung over mine like she belongs there. Like she’s claimed me back without even meaning to.
My fingers twitch, aching to touch her. Not like last night—not with heat and hunger—but softly. Reverently. I want to memorize this version of her. Calm. Unaware. Trusting me enough to sleep like this.
God, I could die like this.
I brush a strand of hair off her cheek and study her features. The delicate curve of her jaw. The freckle under her eye. The small part of her lips like she’s about to whisper something into the quiet. I wonder if she’ll say my name the way I want to hear it if I ask her.
Mine.
My chest clenches.
She came back.
She chose me.
But what if it was a moment of weakness?
What if this morning, she changes her mind?
I can’t let that happen.
When I came back to the house, hoping she’d choose to stay and found her gone, my vision went black with rage. I destroyed anything and everything I could get my hands on.
I shift slightly, resting on my side to face her fully. My hand lingers just above her ribs, not touching—barely breathing. I whisper, “Mine,” because saying it out loud makes it harder for the universe to take it back.
Her eyelashes flutter. A soft inhale. And then… her eyes open. Bleary. Confused. Beautiful.
“Hey,” she murmurs, voice rough from sleep. “You’re staring.”
I smile, slow and dangerous. “Always.”
She stretches, and the movement pulls the collar of the shirt off one shoulder.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” she asks, shifting to her back.
“Couldn’t. Needed to make sure you stayed.”
She blinks, trying to decide if that’s romantic or terrifying.
“Are you… okay?” she asks cautiously.
“Perfect,” I answer.
She doesn’t believe me. But she doesn’t argue either.
We lie in silence for a moment, both pretending it’s normal. That this isn’t a cage she’s still trying to pretend is a palace. That I’m not the man who took her life and bent it into a shape he could hold.
“Ivy,” I say, voice low.
She looks at me.
“You’re not leaving me again. I’ll make you stay. With me.”
Her throat works like she wants to swallow words she’s not ready to say.
“I told you.” She says quietly. “I’m yours as long as you want me.”
