failed miserably. “Pretty much.”
“You take advantage of their poor, innocent menfolk.”
“Something like that.”
He looked up, his gaze heavy. “Would you take advantage of me? If I asked you nicely?”
She smiled. “I think I respect you too much.”
“That’s funny, because I respect you a lot. But I still want to rip your clothes off.”
Ruth’s heart stuttered. She bit her lip.
“Tell me no, Ruth.” His fingers slid back and forth, over the inside of her wrist. “Or tell me yes. I need to know I’m not losing it.”
“I can’t do that.” She hadn’t realised the words were true until they came out of her mouth.
“You can’t say yes?” His fingers stopped.
“I can’t say yes. I can’t say no, either.”
He swallowed. Hard. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“No.” She’d never been less afraid of a man in her life. “I just…” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t give you permission to fuck me over.”
He smiled slightly. “That’s not exactly what I want to do.”
“But you will,” she said sharply. Was this really what she thought?
Yes.
“You will, and when you do, at least I’ll know I never gave you permission.”
He stared. She’d really fucked things up now, she realised; all the ways she was damaged had been neatly exposed in the space of five seconds, and he’d wish he’d never made her that bloody shepherd’s pie.
Then he said, “I can’t tell you I’ll never hurt you. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Even though she’d known it was coming, it hurt. It hurt like the time she’d sketched her favourite teacher and the teacher had crumpled the paper and thrown it in the bin because she was supposed to be doing fractions, except this time the paper was possibly, maybe her heart. Or something.
Evan grasped her hand firmly in his, drawing her attention back to him. “But I can promise,” he continued, “that I will always treat you as you deserve to be treated. That I will always respect you. That I won’t lie to you or betray your trust. I try not to say never, but I will say this: hurting you is something I would never choose to do. I swear.”
She felt unwelcome prickles beneath her eyelids, threatening tears. How embarrassing. She hadn’t cried in years, and she certainly wouldn’t now.
“I also know,” he said, “that I can’t make you believe me. I have to show you. I’m okay with that. But Ruth, you need to know that I won’t take this any further until you tell me what you want.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
“No,” he said. “It’s just, I want to do things with you. Not to you. There’s a difference.”
“Believe me,” she muttered, “I know.” And then, from the flash of concern in his eyes, she realised she’d said too much again.
His voice carefully calm—maybe too calm—he asked, “What do you mean by that?”
Ruth shrugged, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. But he waited patiently for her to find the right words, and she didn’t feel the pressure to speak that so often kept her silent.
Finally, she said, “I was with a guy. Kind of. Before. And once I agreed to be with him, I suppose that meant, in his mind, that I always agreed.”
Evan’s jaw tightened. “You mean—”
“I mean, he didn’t really care if I said yes. Most people don’t care about yes. A few more people care about no.” She shrugged. “So I have this new thing where, if I want someone to leave me alone, I bite their dick off.”
It was a joke. Evan didn’t laugh. She didn’t laugh either.
If she’d ever felt like she could actually do that—like she could fight someone off—maybe it would’ve been funny. Lighthearted. Even empowering. But she hadn’t.
She hadn’t even felt like she could scream, because, really, wouldn’t that be so dramatic? Wouldn’t she be attention-seeking, or causing problems? People said it all the time; if you’re in bed with a man, you’ve already said yes.
But she knew that Evan didn’t think like that. Evan didn’t think like that, and honestly, neither did she.
After a tense second, he spoke. “If I killed this guy you were... kind of with, would you come and visit me in prison?”
She bit down on her smile, but it spread anyway. “That’s funny.”
“I’m not joking, love.”
Ruth forced herself to roll her eyes, because it was easy and familiar and something other than crying. Why on earth was she so close to crying?
Pulling her hand from his, she said, “I should go.”
And he said