Because I can’t say it.
The truth is, I want the opposite. I want her so badly it physically hurts. She’s not just gotten under my skin—she’s carved herself into my ribs, dug in deep, made herself impossible to forget.
And then she does it. Her fingers ghost up the side of my face—my scar—the ugly reminder of everything I’ve done, everything I’ll never be. Her touch is soft, too soft.
I don’t deserve soft.
My hand snaps out before I can stop it, locking around her wrist. I tug her into me, close enough I can smell her sweetness. Close enough, I can feel her heartbeat pick up against mine.
“I don’t just want you, temptress. I want to fucking own you. You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
My voice drops, the words dragging rough across my throat. I take a step closer, crowding into her space, daring her to flinch—but she doesn’t. She lifts her chin like a challenge.
“If I fucked you,” I breathe, eyes fixed on her mouth. “It wouldn’t be soft. It wouldn’t be sweet. I’d ruin you.”
Her eyes flutter, but she doesn’t move.
“I’d use every single one of your holes for my pleasure,” I continue. “I’d mark you, over and over again, until your skin wore nothing but fingerprints and bruises. Until you couldn’t sit,couldn’t breathe, without remembering who you fucking belong to.”
My hand lifts, not touching her—hovering just a breath from her jaw. “I wouldn’t stop if you cried. Wouldn’t stop if you begged. You’d be mine. My perfect little fuckdoll. Used. Owned. Every night.”
Her lips part slightly, her chest rising as she sucks in a slow, unsteady breath.
I lean in, so our noses nearly brush. “I would break you, Ravena.”
It’s not a threat. It’s a warning.
Because outside the bedroom, I would try to be good for her—soft in the only ways I know how to be. But in that space, stripped down to the core of what I am… I'd ruin her.
And I wouldn’t be able to stop. She needs to understand that.
As much as I want her… we can never happen.
“I’m not scared of you. And you have no idea what I can handle.”
Her silver eyes shine with defiance, with knowing, like she sees straight through the layers I’ve spent years welding shut.
“I know you're trying to push me away,” she adds. “But it won’t work.”
I let out a growl and tear myself back, pacing a few steps away, my fists clenching. “You don’t get it, Ravena,” I snapped. “I’m damaged. Fucked-up in ways you don’t even know.”
I don’t look at her when I speak, because if I do, I might stop.
“All I ever saw growing up was a parade of men walking out of my mum’s bedroom after I had to listen to her scream and fuck them all night. They used her like trash, and she let them. She didn’t even look at me. I was invisible. And the first time anyone noticed me… it was women who wanted one thing. A good fuck. That’s all I’ve ever been good for.”
Fury simmers under my skin—but it’s not directed at her. It’s in every memory I can’t bury.
“Ronan's good for you,” I force out. “He deserves you.”
It guts me because I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Even alcohol.
“I won’t be the reason you end up hurt.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but her lips tremble around the words that never come. I don’t miss the shimmer in her eyes—silver, glassy, threatening to spill—and fuck, it tears through me. My body aches with it. With her.
So, I do the cruellest thing I can think of to change her mind.
