Sweet Retribution (Ruthless Games 2)

He closes the door behind him, and I realize he must’ve come alone. I keep my eyes pinched shut, but I’m still aware of his movement as he sinks into a crouch in front of me.

“What happened?”

His fingertips brush my face, and I let out a strangled noise, shoving myself harder against the wall as I cringe away from his touch. He pulls his hand away immediately, and I can hear a change in his voice when he speaks again. A hardness, as if he’s already guessed the answer to his question.

“Did someone hurt you?”

Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches, I nod slowly. My eyes blink open, and even though it’s still dark, I can see the outline of Theo’s face and the soft gleam of his eyes.

“Fuck.”

There’s so much fury and pain carried in that single word that it makes my chest ache. I’ve carried the fury and pain of my abuse in my heart for years, but I’ve never had someone feel those emotions on my behalf before.

It lightens the burden a little, somehow, giving my lungs space to draw in a little more air.

As they do, a sharp sob escapes me, and Theo reaches for me again before stopping himself. His hand hovers in the air between us, and I know he’s remembering the way I reacted to his touch a moment ago.

I stare at his outstretched fingertips through the tears that cloud my vision. I want him to touch me, and at the same time, I don’t. My body still tingles everywhere, an unpleasant sensation—like there are ants crawling just below the surface of my skin.

For years, I avoided touch. I avoided sex. It wasn’t until I met Marcus, Theo, and Ryland that something opened up inside me. The way I feel about them, the way my body seems to crave them, is something I never thought I would experience.

But now it feels like it’s slipping away.

I’m sinking under a heavy blanket of numbness, and my body can’t seem to distinguish between threat and safety anymore.

“What can I do?” Theo’s hand is still poised between us, and his shadowed face looks tortured as he gazes at me in the darkness. “Tell me how I can help you, Rose. Please.”

Tears track down my face, gathering on my chin before dripping onto my shirt. I feel like I’m falling, like I’m drifting away from myself, losing the person I’ve built myself into. And I don’t want that.

I don’t want to lose what I’ve found.

I don’t want to let Jordan take this from me too.

So I drag in a deep breath and unclench my fingers from where they dig into my calf. My hand shakes, and I feel like I’m forcing my limb to move through drying cement as I reach out for Theo’s hand. When my fingers close around it, I feel him react, but he lets me guide our movements as I slowly drag it toward me.

Straightening slightly, I press his palm against my upper chest, just above the neckline of my shirt. The prickling feeling in my skin intensifies, and I hiss out a breath. Theo tries to pull his hand away, but I cling to it harder, keeping it smashed against my chest even as my heart slams against it.

Nausea flips my stomach over, and I clench my jaw, trying to breathe through the conflicting messages bouncing back and forth between my mind and my body.

“Did he hurt you here?” Theo’s voice is rough but tender, his gaze steady on the place where his fingers splay over my skin.

I nod.

I tried like fuck not to let him, but he did. I never cared about Jordan McCabe in a way that should’ve allowed him to break my heart, but somehow, he managed to do it anyway. He broke my faith in people, and that cracked my heart open.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Theo shifts a little closer to me, his hand softening against my skin. Every part of his palm molds to my chest, and his thumb drags back and forth slowly, making little bursts of sparks erupt inside me. It still hurts, but I keep my grip on him, breathing in time to the strokes of his thumb.

When I finally let my hand fall away, he keeps his pressed right where it is for a while, the single point of connection between us as we gaze into each other’s eyes.

Then Theo removes his hand too.

My body jerks forward a little, unconsciously chasing his touch, and my skin seems to chill in his absence.

Watching me carefully, he drops his head a little, and an exhale of warm breath over my skin makes me shiver.

“We will never hurt you, Ayla,” he murmurs. “I will never hurt you. Do you believe that?”