My girl.
My Georgia.
I take a breath I don’t really feel and step into the room. The light is dim, just the soft glow of the bedside lamp spilling across the walls, but it still makes her shine.
She hasn’t changed out of her yellow dress from the Bash—the one that makes her look like sunlight dipped in honey. She’s standing dead center, arms loose at her sides, curls falling like wildfire around her shoulders.
Georgia’s not crying, or fidgeting, and for once, she doesn't seem seconds from bolting. Her face is nervous, but sure, like she’s ready for whatever's about to happen.
Like she’s ready to fight… for us.
Swallowing thickly, I take a step inside our room and close the door behind me.
“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time.
I shake my head slowly and take another step.
“Why are you sorry?” My voice is soft, but my heart’s pounding like I just ran here. “I already told you, Georgia. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Her lip trembles, and her hands lift and fall at her sides like she doesn’t know what to do with them. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do ruin things.”
That stops me cold.
My stomach drops and I quickly close the distance between us.
“What are you talking about, darlin’?”
“You’ve been saying it from the beginning,” she chokes out, eyes shining. “That I ruin things. Your shirts. Your shoes. Your days. I didn’t want to ruin this too—us. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
God.
Fuck.
I’ve been a goddamn idiot. Thought I was being funny, flirting. Didn’t realize she was taking every word and twisting it in her trauma.
I cup her jaw in my hands, my thumb stroking her cheek as I tilt her face up to mine.
“No,” I whisper. “No, baby. There is not a single part of you capable of ruining a damn thing. I’m the one who’s ruined.”
She blinks, and her fingers curl around my hips like she’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“I was a shell,” I tell her. “Walking around pretending to be a man when all I was doing was surviving. Drinking too much. Hurting too quiet. Hating myself for not being the son my father raised.”
I move closer, so close I feel her breath on my lips.
“Then you walked in. All fire and fight. Lit the damn match. And now?”
My hand slides down, over the soft curve of her hip, my fingers dragging slowly up the slit in her dress until I find bare skin.
I trace the curve of her hip then slip between her thighs, letting her feel the weight of my words. “Now I’m the one who’s gonna ruin you.”
She gasps, lips parting. “You are?”
“Yes. Ruin you for all other men. Ruin your pretty little birthday outfit. Ruin your vocal cords as you scream out my name, begging me again and again for more. Ruin your makeup when I fuck your mouth, and hit the back of your throat.”
Georgia whimpers, shuddering against me.
“But mostly, baby? I’m about to ruin this.” I slide under her panties and cup her pussy possessively. “I’m gonna destroy this right here. With my mouth and fingers and cock. And then? Then I’m gonna make a mess out of your sweet little cunt with my cum.”
