Page 88 of Ruin (The Rhodes 1)


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I twist my neck to the side, trying to get a glimpse. What type of document got him into such a sullen mood?

My lips open to ask him, but I’m wise enough to clasp them shut. If there’s anything I’ve learnt during my stay here is that I should avoid Aaron’s fury.

Yet, I abandon the dull book and stand. He doesn’t look up. I take the chance. With a snail’s speed, I walk towards him.

I smile when I’m at an arm’s length and Aaron continues highlighting the document. I’m actually good at this sneaking game.

Instead of stopping in front of him, I tiptoe behind him. I keep about a metre’s distance for safety and look over his shoulder. The writing is too small.

I inch closer until his cedar scent envelops me like warmth in winter. Oh. God. He smells so good it’s unfair.

My eyes are involuntarily drawn to his back muscles. He discarded his jacket and he’s only in a dark blue shirt. It flatters his wide shoulders to perfection. The memory of being thrown over one of them sends heat through my body. A forbidden fire courses me at his nearness.

And his hair. His damn jet-black thick hair begs me to run my fingers through it.

Oh. My. God.

What the hell are these thoughts? Why am I so hot and tingly and... drawn to him?

No. This is wrong. This is a million per cent wrong. Aaron is the last person I should be attracted to.

Stop! I told you to stop! I scream internally at my body. Yet, my feet keep approaching him. My hand extends to touch his hair.

Do I even want to stop?

I don’t get my answer. Before my fingers make contact with his hair, Aaron clutches my wrist. With a speedy tug and a twist, I end up sitting on something warm. I yelp, closing my eyes. When my eyelids flutter open, I’m greeted with a sardonic almost-smile. Oh no. The warmth is his lap. I’m sitting on his lap.

“Did you honestly think I failed to notice your obvious spying, kitten?” He’s close, so close that his amused words fan my face like an overwhelming breeze.

I twist my wrist in his relentless hold. “L-let me go.” My voice wavers, unconvincing. Do I want him to let go?

You’re well and truly going mad, Mae.

“You should have thought of that before you came up behind me. It’s a dangerous thing to do. Do not try it again.” He tightens his fingers around my wrist. It doesn’t hurt. Or maybe I don’t feel the pain due to the heated look in his black irises. I drown in the grey flecks, diving deeper and deeper until reality hushes in the background. Only Aaron and his low magnetic voice exist.

“You’re provoking me, Mae.” He releases my wrist and gathers a thick strand of my hair in his palm before he lifts it to his face. His eyes flutter close as he takes a deep inhale before whispering from between them. “More than I can possibly tolerate.”

I should push him. Run. Lock myself somewhere far away from his sinful features and intoxicating scent. More than anything, I should remember his psychopathic deeds and loathe him to shreds. Yet, my sane part completely abandons me since I plunge my fingers into the top of his hair. My body erupts in instant heat, begging to belong in his arms. Why do I have to keep denying this? Since when do I run away from myself?

With a soft tug, I raise his head and stare into his lost gaze. I don’t know if it’s something he sees in my face, but his eyes instantly gleam with fieriness. Probably the strongest emotion I’ve witnessed on him.

“Kiss me.” My voice’s above a murmur, strangled with my flushed emotions.

Aaron’s lips part before he thins then in a line. “Do you realise who you’re asking that from?” His voice is plummy, struggling to keep his cruel nobility in check. But his eyes. Damn his eyes. They look at me as if I’m the most beautiful thing

in the world.

“Yes.” My voice is steady and calm. “I want you to kiss me.”

His jaw ticks, but he says nothing. My pulse quickens at the silence.

I’m not one to take silence for an answer.

“Aaron—”

Both of his hands grab my cheeks and his lips crash against mine. My heart almost leaps out of my chest as his soft yet bruising lips devour me. His tongue tears past my teeth, stealing my air, injecting an earth-shattering sensation into my veins, and forcing my lungs to saturate with his breath. He gives me more than a kiss. It’s a claiming. An animalistic need I never dreamt of experiencing. It erases the last bit of sanity in my brain. It makes me wrap my arms around his neck and wish I could forsake oxygen and survive on his breaths.

Screw right. I want wrong.

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