Page 124 of The Art of Ruin

The sound she made when I pulled her closer.

The way she looked at me afterward, dazed and flushed and trying very hard to recover enough dignity to speak normally while I stood there fighting every instinct telling me to kiss her again.

And again.

And again.

Instead, I kissed her forehead, went to my room, and spent the night reliving every sound, every taste until I’d had to get up and relieve the ache in my cock from thoughts of her.

A decision I now revisit daily with increasing levels of dissatisfaction.

“She smiled at me this morning,” Matteo says suddenly.

I blink at him. “What?”

“Casey,” he replies, far too pleased with himself already. “In the kitchen.”

Nico snorts quietly without looking up from his laptop. “Congratulations.”

“I’m serious. She voluntarily smiled at me.”

“That’s because she’s recovering from whatever temporary personality disorder made her tolerate you.”

Matteo points at him. “See? This is why women prefer me.”

“No,” Nico replies calmly, “women prefer you because you look like trouble and most people enjoy self-destructive hobbies in their twenties.”

“I’m thirty-two.”

“Physically, yes. Emotionally? Fifteen.”

Normally, I’d let them continue.

Today I don’t have the patience.

“We’re not discussing Casey.”

They go quiet for a second.

Too quiet.

Matteo leans back slowly in his chair, studying me with entirely too much interest. “That sounded territorial.”

“Get fucked, Matty.”

“It sounded like if I smile at her again, you’re going to throw me through the window.”

Nico finally looks up then, his expression more thoughtful than amused.

I hold his gaze evenly.

Matteo notices that too, because of course he does. “Oh, this is bad,” he says, grinning now. “You actually like her.”

“I like a great many people.”

“No, no,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Not in the human way. In theyouway.”

“There is nomeway.”