Page 88 of Ruin Me Gently

I was frozen. No idea why. But my limbs wouldn’t move.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “No. No standing there all brooding and mysterious. This is a regular thing now. Inside.”

I flexed my jaw as I forced my feet to follow her. Just one step, and then another, it really shouldn’t have been this difficult.

She was already halfway across the room, shrugging out of her coat and tossing it over the back of her couch without a second thought. “You gonna stand there breathing weird all night?”

“No.”

“You wanna give me my bag now then?”

“Yeah. Right. Here.” I handed it over.

“I’d ask if you want coffee, but I’m assuming the scarf isn’t coming down?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

She hummed, like she’d already known the answer, then turned and disappeared.

I scanned the room as I sank onto the couch. Soft blankets draped across the furniture, one folded neatly, the others in varying states of use. Stacks of books lined almost every available surface. Some were brand new, spines uncracked. Others were old, pages yellowed, dog-eared, lived in.

She’d love my penthouse.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining my walls, filled with first editions and well-loved copies, stories I’d collected like artefacts over the years. She’d run her fingers along the spines, pull one free, settle into my couch like she owned the place…

No. That was stupid. She could never go there.

Thiswas her space, her world, and I had no business trying to imagine her inmine. But it was getting harder by the second.

She reappeared, mug in hand, steam curling into the air as she settled into the other end of the couch, throwing a blanket over her legs with her free hand.

I should’ve left. Right there and then. But I couldn’t.

She was sitting barely two feet away from me, her hair a little messy from the cold weather, stray strands clinging to her cheeks. Her oversized sweater slipped down her shoulder—enough to show the soft slope of constellations across her collarbones. The lamp light hit her just right, catching in her eyes, turning the silver into something warmer.

And that smile.Fuck, that smile. Faint, tired, barely there. But it hit me like a fist to the heart.

I was drowning.

It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. God, she was. But it was more than that. It was the way she tucked her legs beneath her like she was settling in for the night. Like this moment was safe. LikeIwas safe.

And that terrified me.

I needed to leave. Right now.

Before I did something stupid. Before I leaned across the couch, pushed her hair back, and kissed her. Before I did something I couldn’t take back.

I flicked my eyes toward the door. “I should probably go.”

She took a slow sip, meeting my gaze over the rim of her mug. “Yeah?”

I didn’t move.

She smirked. “See you later, Mr. Stalker.”

Still, nothing.

“What?” she asked, shifting the blanket higher over her lap. “Having second thoughts about your dramatic exit?”

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