Page 122 of Ruin Me Gently

The orgasms weregreat. He was hot as hell.

He was kind, sweet, so damn generous.

But then what?

Was I really going to spend the rest of my life involved with a man who wouldn’t even tell me his name? I mean, it’d been of my own volition that I’d invited him straight into my life even though he was the one who’d inserted himself into it in the first place.

But I deserved more than that. It was an unrealistic situation, one that no good could come from. One that would inevitably end messily.

So why the hell was I clinging on to it?

This would just be me protecting myself. That’s what I needed to tell myself anyway. It was the smart thing to do.

I’d been stewing on it for days. Letting it fester, rolling it over and over in my head like a loose tooth I couldn’t stop poking at.

He’d told me before that he didn’t want to hurt me. So why hadn’t I listened sooner? Because now, he was right. It did hurt. Not enough to tear me in two, but enough that it left something raw and aching in its place. Enough for it to bruise, but not for it to blister.

I needed to end things. Just one more night. One more night of comfort, of his warmth, his hands. One more night with a mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm. One more night of burying myself into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around me like he never wanted to let go.

Just one more night.

And then I’d wake up, pull it together, and put an end to whatever this was before it left me bleeding.

Just one more night.

I twisted the key in the lock, checking it twice, securing the store for the night. I’d ended up closing a little early, maybe twenty minutes or so. It’d been dead all afternoon, so I’d knocked out most of the closing stuff ahead of time. Pretty rare miracle, honestly.

The street was quieter than usual—not dead, but close. A few people trudged past, heads down, shoulders hunched against the steady drizzle. Because of course it was raining. Cold, miserable, city rain. The kind that seeped through fabric and clung to your skin no matter how tightly you wrapped yourself up. It didn’t matter how long I’d lived there, I was still adjusting to the unpredictability of the weather. I really needed to start carrying an umbrella or at least checking the forecast. That’s what anyone with common sense would do. But apparently, I was lacking in that department, all across the board.

I glanced up out of habit, scanning the usual corners. No sign of Mr. Stalker.

Huh. Odd.

Maybe he’d had the same realisation that I’d had. That cutting it off was for the best. Either way, I wasn’t about to stand around in the rain to dwell on it.

I sighed, tugging my coat higher around myself and shoving my hands deep into my pockets before setting off down the street.

I was hitting the convenience store. No question. Enough snacks to build a small, shameful fortress of emotional support junk food. Because if I was going to wallow, I was damn well going to do it properly.

I walked. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Keep busy. Keep my hands occupied, my brain distracted. Simple. Straightforward.

The streetlights buzzed overhead, flickering just enough to set my nerves on edge—the kind of flicker that felt a little too horror movie coded.

Another block down.

Something shifted. Not the weather, or the city noise. Something else.

The kind of thing that makes the back of your neck prickle, your stomach tighten, your pulse trip over itself.

It was probably nothing. Probably just the natural paranoia that came with being a woman walking alone at night in a city that didn’t give a shit about you.

Or maybe… footsteps.

Even. Measured. Close enough to feel like they were keeping pace.

My heart threatened to smash its way out of my throat. I didn’t turn. Didn’t slow. Against all logic,I smiled.

It could’ve been anyone. Right?

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