“You were going to catch a plane home without saying a word to me, weren’t you?” I swallowed. He knew I was planning to leave after the night I spent with him in my hotel room. For some reason, the knowledge contracted my chest with guilt. Ronan moved closer. His animosity wrapped around my body as his fingers gripped my face, forcing a ragged exhale from me. “Am I that easy to leave, kotyonok?” My breath shallowed at the angry vulnerability he let me see. The worst part was, I shared it: the fear of being abandoned; of not being good enough. This weakness of his twisted my chest. It forced me to change my view of him forever. Pd never again see him as the monster I’d once thought he was but as the hungry, abused boy the worst part of humanity had shaped into a cold-hearted man. My heart felt so heavy, it compelled me to frame his face with my hands and skim my lips against his scar. The soft action contrasted his rough grip holding me in place. He tensed like he wasn’t sure what I was doing; like he’d never been touched this way before in his life; like he was expecting pain to follow. His simple reaction was my undoing. “You wanted my misery, but Pm giving you my forgiveness,” I breathed, voice thick. “When you let me go, I won’t turn you in even though I should. I can’t be the person to send you back to prison... .” I inhaled raggedly. “Ill walk away when this is over and I won’t look back— though not because I hate you but because I don’t. Not even a little bit. . .” The words settled around us for a beat before he said drily, “This is getting too close to a Nicholas Sparks movie for me, kotyonok. I just wanted to convince you to let me fuck you again.” “I’m an emotional fuck,” I replied. “Get over it.” He chuckled roughly. When my thumb brushed over his scar, he nipped it hard between straight white teeth. I hissed in pain and pulled it free with a glare. “Tm a rough fuck,” he returned. “Get over it.” The look in his eyes turned turbulent. “If you want to turn me in, so be it. Pd go back to prison for you, kotyonok, but when I get out, there’d better be an ocean between us.” I suddenly couldn’t even imagine returning to The Moorings; to Carter and the lonely sounds of the Atlantic. A weight compressed my chest, forcing the word from my lips.