Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
The world around us fades away, the half-built library forgotten as we lose ourselves in each other. The scent of sawdust fills the air, mixing with the heat of our desire. Pope presses me up against one of the wooden beams, his lips trailing down my neck, his hands sliding under my shirt, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
But as the passion between us begins to ebb, my mind races, my heart still pounding in my chest. The physical connection between us was undeniable, but the emotional distance still lingers. I pull back slightly, my breathing heavy, my fingers still tangled in Pope’s shirt. I don’t know what to say, how to reconcile the intensity of what just happened with the fear still gnawing at me.
Pope looks down at me, his eyes filled with something deeper—something I’m not ready to face. My heart aches, but the walls I’ve built around myself are still there, still keeping me from fully letting him in. I step back, putting distance between us, my voice barely above a whisper as I say, “I can’t… not yet.”
Pope watches me, his expression torn between frustration and understanding. He doesn’t push, but I can feel the weight of his unspoken words. The tension between us remains, thick and unresolved, as we stand there in the half-built library, sawdust swirling around us, the heat of our desire lingering in the air.
Chapter Eight
Pope
The half-finished beams of the library cast long shadows across the site as I move about, trying to focus on the work in front of me. My hands are steady, muscle memory guiding me through each swing of the hammer, but my mind—hell, my mind keeps drifting back to Ruby. Last night keeps playing in a loop, and I can’t get the feel of her out of my head. The way she kissed me, like she’d been holding back for so long, and the way she melted into me, like I was the one thing she could rely on. I thought… I thought we’d crossed a line, broken through something real.
But now she’s pulling away. Again. And it’s eating me alive.
From across the site, I catch a glimpse of her. Ruby’s organizing her notes, pretending to be focused on the design, but I can tell she’s avoiding me. The fire I’ve grown used to—the one that usually lights her eyes when we argue about every damn detail of this project—it’s dulled. Her shoulders are tense, and she’s moving like she’s trying to disappear. What the hell?
Frustration tightens in my chest. I don’t get it. Did I misread everything? Was last night just a mistake to her? I thought… I thought it was something more. But now, she’s acting like nothing happened, like we didn’t share something raw, something that meant more than just… heat.
I grit my teeth and set my hammer down, wiping my hands on my jeans as I make my way over to her. I can’t keep doing this. This back-and-forth, push-and-pull—it’s driving me insane. Ruby’s got walls up, I know that, but damn it, I thought I was starting to break through. Now, she’s building them even higher.
She’s standing by one of the unfinished walls, her back to me, her head bent over those damn notes. I know she feels me coming—her body tenses, her fingers tightening around the edge of her notebook. I stop a few feet away, my voice gruff but softer than I intend. “Ruby.”
She doesn’t turn around, and that only makes my frustration spike. “We need to talk,” I say, the words rough in my throat.
Ruby finally turns, but the look in her eyes hits me like a punch to the gut. She’s pulling back, retreating into herself, and I have no idea why. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she says, her voice calm but distant. Too calm.
I take a step closer, my brows knitting together in frustration. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out like this.” My voice drops lower, too close to something that feels vulnerable, and I hate it. I’m not used to being this exposed, but damn it, I need to know where her head’s at. “Last night… that wasn’t nothing, Ruby. You know that.”
Her eyes flick away from mine, and she bites her lip, like she’s holding something back. “It was just… it was a mistake,” she says, but I can hear the tremor in her voice. She doesn’t believe her own words. “We can’t do this, Pope. You’re just—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head like she’s trying to find the right words. “You’re too much like him.”
The second those words leave her mouth, it’s like the ground’s been yanked out from under me. “Like him.” Her ex. Her abusive, manipulative ex. Those words slice through me, and I take a step back, my chest tightening. “You really think I’m like that asshole?” My voice is rougher now, disbelief mixing with anger. I can’t even wrap my head around it—the idea that she sees me as anything close to the man who hurt her. The man who messed her up so bad she can’t trust anyone.