Lahat ng Kabanata ng Ruin Me, Blackwood: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

Amelia’s POVI’d never felt so alive and so terrified at the same time.Lying tangled in Dominic’s sheets, his scent still clinging to my skin, my heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to break free. The city stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, glittering like a thousand tiny promises I didn’t quite believe in anymore.I should have left.I knew that.It would’ve been smart — safer. To gather my clothes from the floor, slip back into the woman I was supposed to be, and pretend tonight hadn’t happened. Again. To tell myself I was only his assistant. That none of this meant anything.But that was a lie I couldn’t tell anymore.Because the way he’d touched me tonight… it wasn’t just about release. It wasn’t about control or dominance or shutting out the world. It was something raw. Desperate. And I felt it in every trembling inch of my body.I turned my head on the pillow, watching him as he lay on his back beside me. One arm was slung over his face, the other rest

Amelia’s POVI should’ve gone home.After everything that happened — after everything he said, the way he touched me, the way his words still echoed in my head — I should’ve gotten out of his bed, called a car, and left. That would’ve been the smart thing to do. The safe thing.But I wasn’t smart when it came to Dominic Blackwood.Not anymore.And definitely not when he looked at me like that, when his mouth crashed against mine like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him above water.Now I lay in his bed, the sheets still tangled around my legs, the ghost of his touch lingering on my skin. The room was too dark, too quiet, and yet my mind was screaming. Replaying every word, every look, every moment we’d spent wrapped around each other like it meant something.I knew better. I knew what this was supposed to be.A distraction. A mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment.But the way he held me before he slipped out of bed… the way his voice cracked when he called me Red… it

Amelia’s POVI woke up to the scent of him.It clung to the sheets, to my skin, to the air itself. A mix of something clean and dark — cedarwood, spice, and the trace of expensive cologne that never quite faded. It felt like falling into a memory, one I didn’t realize I’d been chasing until now.The apartment was quiet.Too quiet.I stretched out beneath the soft, heavy covers and reached for him instinctively, only to find the other side of the bed empty and cool. Disappointment pricked at me, sharp and unwelcome, but I shook it off. I shouldn’t expect him to be here. That wasn’t how this worked. Not with Dominic Blackwood.And yet, it stung.I sat up, the oversized black shirt I’d stolen from him slipping off one shoulder. My hair was a mess, strands tangled from restless sleep and his hands. The thought sent a rush of heat through me, remembering how his mouth had moved over my skin, how his voice sounded rough and unguarded in the dark.Last night had changed something between us.

Amelia’s POVI didn’t sleep much after he left the bed.I could still feel him everywhere. The press of his hands. The way his voice had dropped to a low, gravelly murmur against my skin. The weight of his body over mine like a storm threatening to swallow me whole.And still — I wanted him.It was reckless, impossible, and so far beyond anything I should be letting myself feel. But every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Dominic’s face in the dark. The way he looked at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this world.And it scared the hell out of me.Because I’d built my life around not needing anyone. Around staying untouchable, untouched, after everything I’d been through. After every disappointment, betrayal, and loss. I wasn’t the girl who fell for men like him. I wasn’t the girl who let herself want someone who could so easily destroy her.And yet… here I was.Wrapped in his sheets. In his apartment. In his life.I slid out of bed quietly, my legs still ac

Amelia’s POVI could feel the shift before I saw him.The air in Dominic’s penthouse felt heavier, charged with something thick and unspoken. And it wasn’t from the night before, no matter how much my body still ached from the memory of his hands on me, his mouth claiming every inch of my skin.This was different.This was the fallout.I lingered in the doorway of the living room, watching him. He was at the window, phone in one hand, tension radiating from his frame like heat waves off asphalt in summer. His shoulders were tight, suit jacket discarded somewhere hours ago, the sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, veins in his forearms prominent as he gripped the phone so hard I worried it might crack.I knew that stance. I’d seen it before in boardrooms. In interviews. In the few rare glimpses of him on the news.It was Dominic Blackwood in damage control mode.And I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly why.I cleared my throat quietly, not wanting to startle him. Hi