Page 102 of Ruin Me Gently

I swallowed, suppressing the full-body meltdown that was currently in progress, my cheek squished against his chest, hand resting against his hoodie. “Uh… You good there, Mr. Stalker?”

“Better now.”

I brushed my hand against his hoodie absently, and without really thinking, I slid my hand beneath it. The moment my palm pressed against bare skin, he sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles flexing instinctively under my touch.

A wicked little thrill crept down my spine. But I didn’t push. Didn’t trace too high or low. Just let my thumb move slowly, stroking the firm muscles, feeling the way his body reacted beneath my touch.

He didn’t move or speak for a moment. But then one hand came up, fingertips brushing over the top of my head in slow soothing strokes. The other ghosted up and down my arm, barely there but enough.

Enough to send something shivery and electric racing under my skin.

It wasn’t even sexual. Not really. It was just touch. Exploring. Mapping. Like we were learning something we hadn’t quite figured out yet. Like we were both trying to see what this was, without breaking it.

“Will you tell me your name yet?” I murmured against him.

“No.”

I sighed, not surprised. “Figures.”

Silence settled again.

“I was left-handed as a kid,” he said.

“What?”

He huffed, barely a laugh. “You wanted to know something about me.”

“That’s what you go with?” I asked, tilting my head up slightly, eyes meeting with his.

His shoulders lifted in the slightest shrug. “They made me switch when I was in school. Kept slapping my hand with a ruler every time I used the wrong one. So now, I write with my right.”

I frowned. “That’s messed up.”

“Catholic school.”

“Wait. You’re religious?”

He scoffed. “Not after that experience.”

“Ah,” I said, pressing my palm against his stomach.

It was something small, but it was something. Was he letting me in?

I buried myself into him, nestling against his warmth. “Tell me something else.”

“I can solve a Rubik’s cube in under a minute.”

I jerked my head back, staring up at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“It absolutely is. People dedicate their entire lives to that shit.”

“Maybe they’re just not trying hard enough.”

I scoffed. “Okay, show off.”

“Your turn.”

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