Page 194 of Chasing Ruin
“They’re clean jeans.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
We watch the sun dip lower, her back resting against my chest.
“Why here?” she asks after a beat. “There’s plenty of trails closer to Whiterun.”
I go still. Of course, she’d ask that.
For a moment, I stare out at the horizon, my chest tightening, unsure of how she’ll take this.
“It’s…” I exhale slowly. “It’s a halfway point.”
She frowns slightly, turning to look at me. “Between what?”
“Craven Ridge,” I say quietly. “And Whiterun.”
Silence stretches between us.
“If you ever decide to leave,” I continue, my voice rougher now, “to go back to your life away from the club…” I gesture vaguely, like that explains anything. “I’ll visit, obviously.”
Her gaze sharpens.
“Or,” I add, forcing a small smile, “we could meet here sometimes. Halfway.”
She stares at me for a long second. And then, of course, she scoffs. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”
I grin at her. “Yeah?”
“Planning our future already.”
“Not planning,” I correct gently. “Just finally learned how to hope when it comes to you, my love.”
She snuggles closer the moment the endearment leaves my mouth. I don’t even know if she realizes it.
“There’s no stopping now,” I add.
She chuckles, shaking her head, but her eyes soften in a way that hits somewhere deep. Like she’s giving in. And all it does is make me hope even more.
“Idiot,” she murmurs. And drops a shy kiss to my lips.
Seven.
FIFTY-ONE
Ruin
It takes a special kind of restraint to pace things down and hit pause on lust. Especially when the love of your life is tugging at your shirt, pulling you down by your collar, and whimpering into your mouth about how she wants more of you.
I, Theodore Altman, don’t have this mythical ability.
After single-handedly ramping up our appetite—theotherkind—Charlotte insisted I spend the night again.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t already been planning that. But even the imaginary Charlotte in my subconscious didn’t sound that breathy or sultry when suggesting it.
I’m still scrambling, hands fumbling as I try to slow this down—somehow. I have no idea how we went from entering her apartment to practically mauling each other on her couch in a matter of seconds.
But my brain snaps on high alert when Charlotte freezes the second my hand pulls at the hem of her top.
