Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
I clench my fists at my sides, trying to keep my emotions in check. It’s a losing battle. I’m too aware of him—the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt, the intensity in his eyes when he looks at me. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him, but more than that, I hate how much I want him. The war inside me rages on, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting it.
Pope sets down his tools with a clatter, the sudden sound startling me. He turns to face me, his eyes burning with frustration, and I know the moment has come. “Ruby,” he says, his voice low and edged with impatience. “Are we going to keep pretending everything’s fine, or are you finally going to talk to me about what’s really going on?”
I stiffen, my defenses snapping into place. This is what I’ve been dreading. I don’t want to have this conversation, don’t want to admit how scared I am of letting him in. But Pope isn’t giving me a choice. “What do you want me to say, Pope?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend. “That everything’s fine? Because it’s not. You’re pushing too hard.”
He takes a step toward me, his eyes flashing with something deeper, something raw. “Yeah, I’m pushing because I’m tired of this back-and-forth with you. I’m not your ex, Ruby. I’m not going to hurt you like he did, but you keep treating me like I’m the enemy. What the hell are you so afraid of?”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel my control slipping. He’s right—I am scared. But admitting that feels impossible. The fear of getting hurt again claws at me, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. “You don’t get it, Pope. You’re just like him! You’re intense, possessive, always trying to protect me, but that’s exactly how it started with him.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. The hurt that flashes in Pope’s eyes is unmistakable, and it makes my stomach churn with guilt. I didn’t mean it—not entirely—but the fear clouded my judgment, and now it’s too late to take it back. I take a step back, my hands trembling as I watch his reaction, my heart aching with the weight of what I’ve just said.
Pope goes still, his body rigid with tension. For a long moment, he just stares at me, his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, and the silence stretches between us, thick and unbearable. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, strained. “You think I’m like him?” He takes a slow, measured breath, the hurt in his eyes replaced by something darker. “After everything we’ve been through?”
The tension between us crackles like a live wire, the anger and frustration transforming into something else—something hotter, more dangerous. I don’t answer his question, but I don’t have to. The silence between us is thick with unspoken emotion, and I can feel the air shift around us. Pope takes another step toward me, his eyes dark and intense, his voice dropping to a low, seductive rumble. “You don’t really believe that, Ruby. You’re just scared.”
My breath catches in my throat, my body reacting to the shift in his tone. I should back away, should keep my guard up, but the pull between us is too strong. My heart pounds in my chest as Pope steps closer, the heat of his body so close to mine it makes me dizzy. I look up at him, and the raw hunger in his eyes sends a jolt of desire straight through me.
Pope’s voice is a low growl as he reaches out, his hand cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lips. “You don’t have to be scared of me,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. “I’m not him. I would never hurt you.”
My knees go weak, my pulse racing as his words sink in. I’m trembling, torn between the fear of getting hurt again and the overwhelming desire I’ve been trying so hard to suppress. I know I should push him away, that giving in would be dangerous, but the way he’s looking at me, the way his touch ignites something inside me—it’s impossible to resist.
Before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us, my lips crashing against his. It’s not gentle—it’s desperate, filled with all the frustration and longing that’s been building between us for weeks. Pope responds immediately, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer, as if he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
The kiss is intense, raw, our mouths moving together with a hunger that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. My hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidness of him against me. His hands move down my body, rough and urgent, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.