Page 127 of Ruthless Chaos

She uses the back of her hand to wipe the sweat that’s beading on her forehead. There are a thousand questions in her eyes, but she’s too winded to speak.

“I couldn’t resist,” I say with a smile, pulling myself up on my elbows. “You were too perfect, lying there all innocent.” I trail the back of my fingers along her thigh. She mewls. “I wanted you to enjoy waking up.”

I may have enjoyed it too. But, just a little.

She blinks quickly. “I-I thought I was dreaming.” She covers her face with her hands as if she’s embarrassed. “I had no idea that you…”

“Did you enjoy it?” It’s a rhetorical question. There’s proof of her enjoyment all over my lips and chin. I saw it, I felt it. But I still want to hear her say it.

Alize is quiet for a while, taking her lips between her teeth. She nods, bashful. “Yes,” she says. “It felt amazing, the perfect way to wake up.”

I smile. “Would you want me to do it again?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, for sure.”

“Perfect, sweetheart. I promise that I will.”

Alize’s smile grows wide, and I feel…satisfied to have made her happy. My chest swells with something I can’t place, and right after I’m reminded of what she told me last night–of her precarious situation here at Saint Frederic.

I won’t lose her.

Not to Keller or Cassidy, not to the school’s fucking Peace Treaty, not even to the maniacs trying to kill her because of her father.

Though there’s little I can do about the latter, I know what to do about the rest.

She needs me.

“We have the day to ourselves,” I say, moving to lie beside her.

She’s calmer than last night, which I’m grateful for. “I will take you back to your room so you can take a shower and get dressed. Then we’re going to do something together.”

Alize raises an eyebrow. “What will we do?”

She keeps biting her fucking lips, and it takes every inch of my self-control not to ravage her mouth right there and then.

“I’m taking you to the city.”

Alize’s eyes widen. “Like on a date?”

The hopefulness in her voice gives me pause, but I nod. I don’t do dates. “Unless you prefer we take things back to my room?”

A flush gathers on her cheeks. “No, I-I,” she says, stumbling over her words. “I like the idea of the date.” Then her voice lowers an octave. “Are you sure?”

“Do I look like a man who is often unsure?” I’ve fought with my feelings about her for so long. I’ve resisted her at every turn, but it’s no use.

There’s no other choice to be made now.

She plays with the fringe of her lingerie. I still want to rip it off her.

“I guess what I’m asking is, are you just doing this out of pity for me? I feel like last night was an emotional night, and I don’t know. I never thought of you as the dating type.”

Her last words cut deep. Why do I feel so offended by them?

She’s right, I absolutely am not.

“What do you want me to do then, Alize?” I ask.

Alize gasps at my use of her actual name. “I just want to know what I should do about my expectations.” She looks down at her hands. “I have never had a boyfriend before, much less been on a date. I don’t want to screw up anything.”