Page 411 of Ruthless Court
Very close.
There have been shirts on floors.
His.
Mine.
There has been one bra hanging from his desk lamp that Noah saw before I could retrieve it.
He did not let that go for nine days.
There have been hands.
Mouths.
Breathing that makes conversation impossible.
Moments where I have discovered exactly how much self-control Kane possesses.
And moments where I have discovered mine is considerably weaker.
Still, whenever I say stop, slow down, not yet—
he does.
No frustration.
No bargaining.
No wounded male performance.
He stops.
Every time.
That matters.
Enough that two weeks ago, I made an appointment at student health.
Not because Kane asked.
He didn’t.
I didn’t even tell him.
I sat through an appointment, answered questions that made me wish the floor would open, discussed contraception, side effects, effectiveness, and whether I felt safe in my relationship.
That last question caught me.
Do you feel safe with your partner?
I thought about Kane asking before touching me in the film room.
Waiting under the archway.
Stopping when I froze.
Putting on pajama pants because I was nervous.
