Page 120 of Ruin Me Gently

She frowned, turning toward me in confusion, but I didn’t let her question it. My palm found her lower back, and she let me guide her across the street to where my car sat.

I pulled open the passenger door and gestured for her to enter. “Get in.”

I rounded the car, slid into the driver’s side, buckled up, and started the engine. The quiet purr filled the space between us, but she was already leaning back, lashes low, breath steady.

Trusting me to get her home.

Andfuck—if that didn’t do something to me.

The second I shifted into drive, her hand moved—fingers curling around mine, tugging it onto her lap.

I tensed, breath catching, but I didn’t say anything, just let my palm settle against her thigh.

I kept my grip loose, my thumb moving in slow, absentminded strokes over her skin as I drove. The city blurred past in streaks of gold and neon, the hum of tyres against wet pavement a low, steady rhythm between us. Traffic lights pulsed red, green, amber, casting fleeting shadows across her face as she stared out of the window, her body slack with exhaustion.

The drive to her house hadn’t been long—fifteen minutes, maybe—but when I glanced over at her, she was already asleep. Her head was tilted slightly, lips parted. Her coat had slipped off one shoulder, fingers curled in her lap. She looked peaceful.

I didn’t want to wake her. Didn’t want to pull her from the quiet, exhausted calm that had settled over her. But I had to.

I shut off the engine, unbuckled my seatbelt, and stepped out into the cold. The temperature hit me immediately, sharp and biting, but I ignored it, rounding the car to the passenger side and opening the door.

Crouching down, I reached for her hand, brushing my fingers over hers. “Lilith,” I murmured.

Nothing.

I hesitated, watching her for a second, then sighed. “Sweetheart, I’d carry you in, but I don’t know where your keys are.”

She made a noise—half-groan, half-exhale—stretching lazily before cracking one eye open. Her voice was thick with exhaustion, but she still managed to mutter, “Ugh. You’re lucky I’m too tired to unpack whatever the fuck that just did to me.”

She pushed herself upright, grumbling under her breath as she climbed out of the car. I stood, watching as she trudged up the short steps to her front door, shoulders hunched against the cold, keys jingling weakly in her hand.

She heaved out a sigh so heavy I could feel it from the car. Then, she turned, stomped back down the steps, grabbed me by the wrist, and started pulling.

“No. Stop with this shit,” she mumbled. “Get in the house.”

I followed. No hesitation. No argument. No chance in hell I was doing anything else.

The door clicked shut and she locked it, shrugging off her coat and tossing it over the back of her couch. Her boots came next, kicked off carelessly, barely missing the wall. Then, without a word, she grabbed my wrist again and started toward the stairs. I kicked off my own shoes as we went, trailing behind, tethered to her.

Up the stairs.

To the right.

Straight to her bedroom.

She didn’t flick on the light, didn’t pause or hesitate, just climbed straight into bed and pulled me down with her.

The second my back hit the mattress, she curled into me, wrapping herself around me like I was something familiar. Something safe.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I adjusted, as I got comfortable, as I exhaled into the quiet. My arm slid around her, fingers pressing lightly against the small of her back, anchoring her to me. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, only broken by the soft sound of her breathing. My heart was still hammering, a deep, steady pulse that I felt in every inch of my body. My arm slid around her, fingers pressing lightly against the small of her back, grounding her, anchoring her to me.

Then, her voice broke the silence. “I want to see you.”

I swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling, barely daring to breathe. “You can’t.”

A deep, frustrated sigh left her, warm air ghosting against my chest. “Why?”

I closed my eyes, willing my pulse to slow. “It’s complicated.”

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