Not with him in the house.
Dominic. My roommate's father. Forty-eight years of sharp jaw and rolled sleeves and a wedding ring that catches the light every time I look at him.
I've been burning for six months.
Tonight, I go downstairs.
Just a borrowed t-shirt and every bad idea I've ever had.
He's in the kitchen. Tie loose. Looking at me like he already knows.
You should go back to bed, Nina.
I should.
I don't.
I tell him what I am. What I want him to take. And I watch every good intention he's ever had crumble behind his eyes.
He warns me he won't be gentle.
I tell him I don't want gentle.
I want to be ruined.
And Dominic keeps his promises.
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