Page 269 of Ruin Me Gently

“Are we having a staring contest? Or is there something you wanna share with the class?” I asked shakily.

His bottom lip caught between his teeth, slow, deliberate, like he was holding something dangerous back.

Oh, hello.

My stomach flipped, but my mouth ran off before my brain could get a word in. “Oh my God. Is this a primal thing? Like, you saw me fight, and now your cave man brain is like‘must claim woman?’”

Big mistake. Huge.

He hauled me against his chest so fast my feet barely kept up. One hand pressed into my waist, the other curled against the back of my neck. His breath was warm against my ear. “You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Keep pushing.”

I pressed both hands against his chest, feeling the heat of him, the inked lines of his tattoos shifting under my fingers, the steady drum of his pulse where my palms lay flat against his skin.

My heart did something embarrassing, but I forced out a deep, regret laced sigh. “Silas, I stink right now.”

His grip didn’t budge. If anything, it tightened, his fingers spreading against my waist. “Not a dealbreaker.”

“No, please. It’s gross.”

I tried pushingagainst his chest, tried leaning back, tried—fuck, I don’t know—willing him to release me with my mind. But he stayed exactly where he was, a brick wall of heat and ink and pure, unwavering determination.

I sighed. “Fine. Let me shower first.”

“Sure thing,” he said, all easy, all agreeable—right before he bent at the waist, grabbed me like I weighed nothing and threw me over his shoulder.

“What the fuck!”

The world flipped upside down, my stomach dropped, and suddenly, I was staring at his broad back, his ridiculous muscles, his unfairly perfect skin.

Then he smacked my ass. Hard.

“Silas!” I yelped, palms smacking against his back as he strode out of the gym like this was completely normal behaviour. “Put me down!”

“Mmm,” he mused. “No.”

I kicked. He dodged. I flailed. He laughed.

He carried me straight into the bathroom, kicked the door shut behind him, stepped into the shower with me fully clothed, and turned the spray on.

Ice cold water slammed into me.

I shrieked. Loudly.

“You fucking psychopath!”

He set me down with a smirk, hands already gripping the hem of my sweat-soaked shirt, yanking it up over my head.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, unhooking my bra. “I’m just helping.”

“I swear to God—”

My shorts? Gone. My underwear? Gone.

He smirked, ripping his own pants down, leaving nothing between us and I snapped my gaze to the ceiling.

He huffed out a quiet laugh, grabbing the soap and lathering his hands, gliding them over my skin. Fast. Efficient. Thorough.

And,oh. Oh, was he thorough.

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