Page 20 of Stryker's Ruin

Ruin practically has her nose to the glass as we make the first of the three rounds. Her soft oohs and aahs go straight to my heart. She asks for nothing, expects nothing, and the smallest things give her so much joy. So innocent and pure there isn’t a man I know who deserves her.

I want her with a need that’s almost debilitating. The realization just enforces how wrong I am for her. I’ve always single mindedly gone after what I wanted, what I desired. A gilded son even when I didn’t know it. I’ve had the backs of my brothers in arms and my family, but never once questioned my right to achieve or obtain.

She’s had nothing. The few clothes she had were little more than rags, the books for her studies were current but used. I’ve had dogs that were treated with more kindness and concern. I want… Hell, I don’t know what I want, but I want more, betterfor her than the piece of shit they want to marry her off to. She should be worshiped, cherished.

“How long do we get to ride?” she asks, still staring out the glass.

“We go around three times.”

“So, this is our last one.”

Damn, where’s my head been? “Yes.”

“What did he mean when he said don’t forget the kiss.”

I glance out the window and realize that we’ll be stopping at the top in a moment.

I shouldn’t. I have no right. I’ve done shit that makes me little better than Garvey.

If I do this, I can’t take it back. She deserves better.

The gondola rocks to a stop. I lean closer to her, placing my palm at the side of her neck and use my thumb to turn her face toward me. “It’s good luck to kiss at the top of a Ferris wheel.”

I press my lips to hers. So soft, so sweet. I’m gentle at first but when she places her hand on my shoulder I lose all control. I’ve wanted her, needed her, since I first laid eyes on her. She calls to me, fills me somehow and I want to be a better man for her. I want to be her man.

Wrapping my arm around her waist I shift her onto my lap and nibble her lower lip until her gasp gives me entrance. Gently, I run my tongue over her lip soothing my nip, grateful to have deeper access. Struggling, I hold back my need to thrust in, and break down her innocent barriers.

I should stop, let her go. I’m too old, too damaged. Too soiled.

She’ll heal you. She needs you.

I’m not good enough.

No. But she is your salvation, and you are her savior.

“Mine.”

“What did you say?”

I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud. Now that I’ve tasted her, sampled her I can’t ever let her go. “You’re mine. He doesn’t deserve you. Neither do I, but you’re mine. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Wide eyed, she shakes her head.

The gondola rocks into motion. “We need to talk. Not here, not now. Think about what I said. When we get back to the apartment, we’ll… talk.”

Now that I’ve tasted her, it’s a done deal.

I usher her home, fighting with myself all the way. All the shoulds, should nots, ricocheting in my head.

Once inside, I go to the liquor cabinet and grab the bottle of Jameson. Stopping before I pour, I place it back on the shelf.

“Str—Stryker did I do something wrong? I—I’m sorry.”

She’s standing across the room, arms clamped over her waist pulling in on herself. I shake my head and open my arms. “Come,mo stór.”

Once I have my arms wrapped around her my own doubts abate.

“What’s going on, Stryker? I’m confused.”