Chapter Sixty-Nine
Ruby
‘Okay.’ The word drops between us. It doesn’t fix anything. If anything, it makes everything worse. Because now there’s a shape to it. Rules. Boundaries. An arrangement neither of us is willing to name.
And I know exactly how this ends. Eventually Xavier will leave. And I’ll be the idiot standing in the wreckage wondering why I agreed to any of it.
No promises. No future. No labels. Just him. For now.
My stomach twists. Because that feels worse than before. The silence stretches. Neither of us moves. Neither of us looks away.
The space between us is too small. Too warm. Too dangerous. I should step back. Put distance between us. End this conversation before I do something stupid.
Instead, I stay exactly where I am. His gaze drops briefly. Not to my hands. Not to my mouth. Just enough to make my pulse stumble.
I hate that he can do this to me. I hate that I let him. Most of all, I hate that part of me is relieved. Relieved he doesn't want anyone else. Relieved he came after me and relieved that for one stupid second in that bar, he was as miserable as I was.
The realization should scare me. It does. Just not enough.
I let out a slow breath. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
His eyes don't leave mine. “Still not leaving.”
My heart does that stupid stutter step in my chest as the room goes still again. Neither of us saying anything. Neither of us leaving. The tension stretches tighter. And tighter. Like something waiting to break.
His jaw flexes. The silence becomes its own thing. A living thing. Demanding. Dangerous. I should walk away. I know it. He knows it too. But neither of us moves.
Not until Xavier takes a step forward. Small. Barely noticeable. Enough. The breath leaves my lungs. His eyes lock on mine. Question. Warning. Choice. All wrapped into one.
I could stop this. Right now. I don't. That’s the problem.
His hand finds my waist. Careful. Like he’s giving me every chance to pull away. I don't do that either. My fingers curl into the front of his shirt. The decision made.
The second his eyes drop to my mouth, whatever common sense I had left disappears. This doesn't solve anything. It doesn't change what he wants. Or what he doesn't. Tomorrow will still come. The complications will still be there. The hurt waiting down the road. All of it.
But for one reckless moment, I don't care. Neither does he. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
His hand shifts, sliding up from my waist to my jaw, fingers firm, not gentle, not asking and stopping me and holding me there.
He watches me, like he’s giving me the chance to end it. I still don’t take it.
The tattoo flexes as his thumb brushes along my skin. I run my finger along it. “I never asked what this is.”
He turns his wrist over. “Dad's property.”
I trace the lines. “It's a map?”
“Topographic survey.” He bites his bottom lip. “Every contour. Every hill.”
“You’ve got land tattooed on you..” How does he make a map sound like foreplay?
“Yeah.” His voice is rough, skating along my skin. The man is sinful. The heat in his eyes catches me off guard, causing a new wave of desire to curl low in my belly.
As if he’s had enough talking, his mouth lands on mine. The kiss isn’t soft. It isn’t slow. It’s immediate, like everything that’s been building breaks loose.
My breath catches against his mouth, surprise hitting first. Then something sharper. I push into it before I can think better of it, fingers tightening in his shirt, pulling him closer.
This is exactly what I shouldn’t want. But I do.
His other hand comes to my back, firm, steady, pulling me in like he’s not letting me step away again. The argument is still there. Under it. Between every breath. Between every movement. It doesn’t go away. We’re just ignoring it.
My hand slides up to his shoulder, gripping tighter, holding on. I need the contact because if I let go, I’ll have to think about what I’m doing.
He pulls back enough that I feel the loss of it immediately. My breath comes uneven. His too.
“This is a mistake.” The words come out rougher than I meant them to.
“I know.”
And that’s it. That’s the moment I should end it. That’s the moment I should step back and tell him this doesn’t work, that his rules don’t make sense, that I’m not going to let myself get pulled into something I already know is going to hurt.
Instead…. I pull him back in. And whatever control I thought I had over this….
It’s gone.