Page 5 of Ivory's Ruin Romance
“Ah. Should’ve realized you picked up on that,” he hummed. “I don’t take girls home until they’re aware of the rules, what they’re getting into. That doesn’t happen on the first night.”
He tapped the end of his cigarette, then frowned. “If you don’t like the smoke, say something.”
“I don’t like it,” she admitted softly, torn between examining the outline of his slender fingers and fighting the urge to look back into his eyes. Her thoughts were hazy, tongue leaden.
He turned and blew the rest of the smoke downwind, a white stream curling into the night and spreading out in a ghostly wisp. She took a deep breath of clean air, mourning how obvious it made the difference between them.
Maybe their worlds couldn’t intersect, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to see into his.
“Wasn’t so bad, asking for what you want, was it?” he asked.
She met his eyes. “I want to know why you look empty. Like something took your soul, and you’re still searching for it.”
He stared back at her, brow furrowing. Then he looked away and smiled—a sad, forlorn curve of velvet lips. “Don’t waste your time on me, sweetheart. All you’d be is something to fuck.”
The force of a hammer hit her hard in the chest, and she slowly cracked from the inside out.
Dropping the cigarette on the wood, he smothered it with his boot and handed her a business card from the salon with a handwritten number on the back. “I can be professional, though. Call if you actually want your hair dyed.”
Then he stood and left, but she knew he wouldn’t come back.
This time, he really would disappear into the shadows.
THREE
There are certain things we shouldn’t want. She was one of those things.
The only reason he came to the Halloween party was to give Caspian, his ex-roommate turned friend-and-neighbor, a good kick in the ass to get over a broken heart. Stepping away from the playboy life was one thing, but sulking over a girl who took him for granted was another.
Caspian had become so pathetic that getting him outside had been worth going to Jace’s frat house—the pretentious prick whose family controlled one of the most violent biker gangs in town, Red Dragon. Jace was their spoiled heir, and he acted like it. Best to avoid the kid.
But like clockwork, she found him—cloaked in dark fabric that brought out her porcelain skin like a Halloween apparition, complete with vibrant, glittering green eyes and lips that begged to be kissed and bitten. Her witch costume had easily become his favorite of the night.
The first time he’d seen her, the brunette blended in like any average college student, albeit a cute one with a sweet laugh, but she did nothing to stand out. In fact, he wouldn’t have singled her out at all if she hadn’t locked onto him, almost as if a target had been placed on the center of his forehead.
Ever since he’d been a teenager sneaking into the club, he learned when a woman wanted to hook up. They each had their own way of preening their feathers, of highlighting the assets they thought would be most desirable. He found it amusing to see what they thought he liked, even though his interest had always been drawn to their eyes.
Most importantly, he learned to feel out their desire. Whether they sought immediate gratification or wanted to satisfy a deeper need. He made a point of picking up on what they wanted, what turned them on, and what they fantasized about. Things other men had obviously missed.
Yet when this girl studied him, he got the impression she’d want more than to be alone together in a dark room. As if she actually wanted to figure out who he was instead of sharing a quick moment of mutual indulgence.
She looked at him like she saw something more, and that’s why he wouldn’t return her gaze.
Whoever she thought he was—whoever she assumed he might be—he wasn’t.
They all found out one way or another.
But stubbornly, her eyes returned every time. Every night, when they ended up in the same place, she’d spot him. He wondered if she recognized him from somewhere or remembered his face from the news five years ago. The latter was unlikely since he long outgrew his boyish features.
Still, her attention unnerved him. So he started keeping tabs on her, developed the habit of sensing her before she noticed him, and picked up little details along the way. Like how she wasn’t keen on flaunting herself, the kind of girl who didn’t notice all the attention she got because she was too focused on everyone else, and how she liked to spend more time listening than talking.
Between glances at him, she would search out her friends. She hardly drank, whether out of preference or forbearance, he didn’t know, but she had an uncanny ability to be where she was needed the moment others needed her. More often than not, he’d catch her tending to a drunken friend and staying sober enough to drive them safely back home.
Above all else, she was kind. She deserved to be cared for as much as she cared for others.
So he handed her a business card and left. His heart wasn’t soft like hers; it was hard and jagged and would only cut into those who touched it. A fair relationship wouldn’t be something he could offer. Better that she moved on because he wanted nothing to do with her. Or that’s what he told himself.
He wanted everything to do with her.