Page 67 of Ruin Me Gently

Mr Stalker

No, tell me what it means.

Lilith

Nope.

Mr Stalker

Lilith.

Lilith

If you don’t know what it is, then you clearly don’t need to be sending them.

Mr Stalker

Listen. You doubted me. I provided proof. Feel like you owe me an apology.

No way was I apologising. Not happening. Absolutely not. But… maybe two could play at this game.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips, a flicker of something sharp and devious curling in my stomach.

Without giving myself time to overthink it, I shoved up off the bed, walked over to my full length mirror, and turned slightly, letting the hem of my oversized t-shirt ride up just enough.

The screen glowed back at me, the frozen image clear—the curve of my ass, smooth, bare, framed perfectly. I might have hated my body, might have covered it with ink just to disguise the blemishes, the things I didn’t want to see. But my ass? That had been the one solid thing I’d kind of always liked.

Lilith

Here’s your apology.

My smirk faltered as the little typing bubble refused to appear.

A minute passed. Then another.

I chewed on my cheek, shifting, suddenly too aware of my own boldness. Had I gone too far?

Then finally, the notification appeared.

Mr Stalker

Is this a thirst trap?

Lilith

It’s whatever you want it to be. Did it work as an apology?

Mr Stalker

Yes. That ass is a damn masterpiece.

Mr Stalker

Interesting decor by the way.

Huh? I frowned down at my screen, then glanced at my bed, suddenly feeling uneasy, scanning for—oh,oh shit.

I sucked in a sharp breath, stomach dropping straight out of my ass as my fingers flew back to the photo I’d sent. Sure enough, there it was. Right in the centre of the bed. Bright. Obvious. Mocking me.

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