“I don’t know what I was thinking. Tell me to leave,” he urged me desperately. I knew I ought to bid him farewell, yet my hands would not release his sleeve. “And if I do not?” After a long, tense moment, he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against the curve of my shoulder. “Then I will be yours,” he confessed, his voice a soft caress, “and I shall be your ruin.”
