Page 68 of Ruins
I am something darker, something raw and restless. The thing inside me—the thing that belongs to her alone—stirs, sharp and unrelenting.
Scythe.
I want to take.
Claim.
Leave my mark on every inch of her skin.
I swallow hard, forcing air into my lungs, forcing some semblance of control into my body. But the way she watches me—like she can feel the war raging inside me—undoes me.
She moves.
A slow, careful glide, the soft rustle of her dress filling the space between us.
Then she touches me.
Her fingertips graze my cheek, cool against the heat burning beneath my skin. It’s the softest of touches, hesitant, like she’s learning me.
I stand there, rigid, breathing through my nose like I can regulate the storm inside me, like I can force myself to just be in this moment.
Her eyes never leave mine. They shine with something I don’t deserve—wonder, curiosity… a quiet sort of trust.
She should be afraid.
Sheisn’t.
And that—more than anything else—unravels me.
“Santo,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, yet it crashes through me like a storm. There's a tremor in her words, a hesitance that mirrors the chaos inside me. Her fingers drop, tracing an aimless path over the lapel of my jacket, a soft, lingering touch that sends fire licking up my spine.
“You... you look stunning,” I confess, my voice rough, raw. I capture her wandering hand, gripping it tighter than I mean to, feeling the delicate pulse beneath my thumb—rapid, uneven.Mine.
I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a slow, reverent kiss against her knuckles. Her breath stutters, but when she smiles at me, it’s radiant—something warm and blinding that threatens to undo me completely.
She’stooclose.
“I came here because…” I hesitate, swallowing hard. “Because our first kiss shouldn’t be in front of everyone.”
Her lips part, a soft inhale, her lashes fluttering as she searches my face. I don’t give her a chance to respond.
I lean in, closing the space between us.
Her breath hitches the instant our lips brush, the slightest contact setting my body on fire. It’s soft at first—hesitant, cautious, a delicate testing of boundaries. But then she exhales against my mouth, a quiet surrender, and I lose the fragile grip on my restraint.
The kiss deepens.
I thread my fingers through her hair, tangling in the soft golden strands, heedless of the roses slipping free and tumbling to the floor. She clings to my lapel, her grip tightening, a quiet moan slipping from her lips as she kisses me back with more fervor, more need.
Her tongue skims my bottom lip, a deliberate, seeking touch, and I part for her without hesitation. The moment her tongue slides against mine, a sharp jolt rips through me, something electric, primal. My heart drops, and suddenly, I have to take control.
Idevourher.
Without breaking the kiss, I lift her effortlessly onto the nearby dresser. She gasps, the sudden movement catching her off guard, but it only takes a second before she melts back into me, her legs wrapping around my waist, the delicate silk of her gown wrinkling between us.
I break away just enough to look at her.
Her crystal blue eyes are darkened, heavy-lidded with lust. Her lips, swollen and glistening, part slightly as she tries to catch her breath. She swallows, her chest rising and falling in sharp, desperate movements.
