Page 75 of Queen of Ruin

Then he tosses one of the ends of the scarf over my shoulder.

Instead of kissing my lips, he kisses the top of my head. I press my face into his jacket, getting lost in the smell of him. It reminds me of the lake house when things felt simple and I didn’t have to worry about the future.

I know he would do everything he could to protect me… that’s what I’m afraid of.

28

SUPERSTITIONS

DARREN

“You’re distracting,” I grumble from my seat at the kitchen island, a practice test in front of me for the second half of my Bar exam tomorrow.

“I’m not doing anything,” she protests while reaching for a mug in the cabinet.

“You’re doing that.” I pull my glasses off and use them to motion towards her.

“This?” She reaches for another mug, causing her sweater to glide up her body and expose the underside of her breast.

“Evangeline,” I warn.

This is playing with fire, and she knows it.

I pull in a deep breath because when she turns towards me, her lips pull into a pout and I my resolve disappears.

“Do you want me to fail?” I question, slipping my glasses back on. I only wear them to focus, the prescription not strong but helpful.

“You’re not going to fail. You’ve spent the last week in the office barely paying attention to me,” she accuses, setting a cup of coffee in front of me.

“You know why,” I remind her.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Professional athletes abstain from sex before a big game in order to pour all of that pent up energy into winning.”

She places her hand on her hip and takes a sip of her coffee. “Are you calling yourself a professional athlete now?”

“Do you want me to go back to the office?” I threaten.

“I’ll be a good girl,” she promises, and I slap the pen down on the marble countertop.

When I look over my glasses she’s smirking at me, and I wonder why I’m torturing myself. I want to fuck that smirk right off her face.

When her sweater slips down her shoulder, I almost crawl across the island to get to her.

“You realize how stupid this rule is,” she states, holding the cup with both hands.

“Of course I realize how stupid it is,” I grunt, flipping the page with more force than I intended, almost ripping it.

“You have a lot of pent-up frustration.”

“You think?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “I haven’t fucked in a week. The last time that happened was when I was in high school and Kennedy Morgan popped my cherry. It took me a week to get up the nerve to do it again,” I confess.

Evangeline laughs, the coffee spilling over the side of her mug as she jostles it.

“Kennedy Morgan? I’m surprised you still remember her name,” she says between fits of laughter.

“Everyone remembers their first, especially when she’s your friend’s older sister.”

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