Page 93 of Ruin Me Gently

Then, he went down the steps, like he was about to leave, only to pivot right back around and climb them again, mumbling like a man possessed.

“What are youdoing?”I whispered, squinting at the screen.

I turned the volume up.

“No. It’s not right,” his voice crackled through the speaker. “I can’t do this to her.”

I frowned.

He stopped dead, one hand gripping the back of his neck, like he was physically holding himself together. His head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut.

“I can’t…” his voice caught. “I can’t—”

He dragged the heel of his palm into his brow like he was trying to ground the thought out of his skull.

My stomach twisted, my ribs fracturing in on themselves.

Shit.

I set my phone down and bolted for the door.

I cracked it open just enough to see him. “Hello?”

He froze, gaze flicking to mine, then down the steps.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned, fingers curling round the edge of the door.

He shifted, weight teetering between staying and leaving.

“Don’t you dare run away again,” I said, sharper this time.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, breath dragging slow and heavy like he couldn’t catch it.

“Say something.Anything,” I urged him.

Nothing. Just his eyes, wide and restless, flicking up to mine like he was bracing for a hit. Like he was calculating the distance between us, the steps it would take to get the hell out of here before I could stop him.

“Anything,” I said again, quieter this time. “For the love of God, just speak to me.”

“I want you, Lilith,” he said, fingers flexing at his sides. “I want you more than I should. I want you so damn badly it’s tearing me in two.” His eyes locked onto mine. “But wanting you and taking you? Those are two different things.”

“When I told you I wanted you, I meant it.” I stepped forward, barefoot on the cold wood. “I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

He shook his head again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was he warning me? Trying to scare me off? Or—oh God—was this some confession? Like,‘Hey, Lilith, just so you know, I’m actually a raging psychopath and you’ve made a huge fucking mistake trusting me’?

What if I’d screwed up? What if I’d really,reallyscrewed up this time?

I stared at him. At his half-covered face, his restless hands, his hood pulled low like he was trying to make himself smaller.

I didn’t know what this was. I didn’t know if I was supposed to feel scared, or angry, or sad, or whatever this awful pressure was, the one tightening low in my stomach and flitting down my spine, the one that felt a whole lot like frustration, and want, and everything in between.

Oh, I can’t do this. Diffuse, diffuse, diffuse.

“What, you got a monster cock under there or something?”

Nothing.

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