Page 193 of The Art of Ruin

Because I’m learning, but honesty is the only way I’ll convince her I’ve learned. “Because I don’t think I realized before how often I assumed your yes belonged to me.”

Emotion flickers across her face so quickly I almost miss it.

Pain.

Love.

Something softer.

“Adi…”

“You never owed me certainty just because you loved me.”

The words scrape something raw out of my chest because I understand now, with horrifying clarity, how close I came to becoming the kind of man I hate, entitled in quiet, dangerous ways.

Casey sets the plate down slowly before turning fully toward me.

Then, very carefully, she reaches for my hand. The contact nearly destroys me with how good it feels. “You’re learning,” she whispers.

I close my fingers around hers immediately, gently pulling her closer. “Yes.”

She studies me for another second. Then smiles. “Yes. You can kiss me.”

Christ.

I think I fall a little more in love with her every time she chooses me freely. I touch her like she’s breakable at first. One hand settling against her jaw while I lean down slowly enough to give her every opportunity to change her mind. She doesn’t.

The second her mouth touches mine, something inside me unclenches for the first time in weeks. Relief floods through me so hard it almost hurts. Casey makes the softest sound against my lips, and suddenly holding back becomes almost impossible again for entirely different reasons.

I kiss her deeper, carefully, my thumb brushing slowly across her cheek while she melts closer inch by inch until her hands slide into the front of my shirt like she’s missed this too.

God.

The feel of her against me after weeks without it nearly brings me to my knees.

I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against hers. “You came back,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

The words leave more exposed than I intended.

Casey’s expression softens instantly. “I told you I needed time,” she whispers.

“I know.” My hand tightens slightly at her waist. “I just wasn’t sure if time would lead you away from me.”

Then she kisses me again. And for the first time since the warehouse, hope settles properly back into my chest. Not because everything is fixed or magically healed. But because she’s still here.

“For the record, Adi, you never need to ask before you touch me.”

God.

This woman.

Later that night,I find her curled on the couch in the library wearing my sweater again while rain taps softly against the windows.

She glances up as I walk in. “I thought you were working.”

My lips quirk. “I was supposed to be.”

“And?”