Ray's POV
I should let her go.
Let her walk away in that white fucking dress she clearly didn't pick. Let her run back to her father, wash her mouth out with good-girl guilt, and forget the way she begged for my mouth a few minutes ago.
But I don't.
I grab her wrist before she can vanish down the hall.
"Ray—"
"Shut up."
I pull her with me. She doesn't fight. Not really.
The rooftop's empty. Quiet. Just the city watching. The same place I found her the night everything flipped.
And just like that night, she's smoking. Again. With one heel kicked off. The dress askew. Hair wild.
"You done playing pretend?" I ask, voice low.
She flicks ash, blows smoke through perfect lips. "Fuck you."
I step closer. "You did. Twice."
"Don't flatter yourself."
I smirk and slam her back against the rooftop wall. Her gasp is everything. Her fight is addicting.
"You know what pisses me off?" I say, leaning in, hands on either side of her head. "You act like you hate this. You act like this isn't the only time you get to breathe."
She won't look at me. So I grab her chin.
"I saw you in class. Eyes glassy, legs clenched. My hand still marked you, didn't it?"
She shoves me. I let her. Only to grab her again—rougher this time.
"Say it," I whisper. "Say you want me."
"No."
I press my body into hers. She still doesn't break.
"You think your father's going to save you? You think if he knew what I did to his little princess—"
"Don't."
She's trembling now. Not in fear. In want. In rage. And it turns me on in ways I don't even understand.
I lower my voice, hot and dirty against her ear. "You wore white today. For him. But under it, I bet you still taste like me."
She slaps me.
Hard.
And then she kisses me harder.
Fingernails tear through my shirt. My hand fists the back of her hair. We crash into each other like war and want and all the wrong gods colliding.
She bites my lip. I let her. Bleed for her.
"You're sick," she breathes, panting.
"I'm your sickness," I growl. "And baby—there's no cure."
She moans into my mouth when I slide my thigh between hers. One leg lifts. She's letting me ruin that dress.
And I will.
Right here. Where the stars can watch.
Because I want the sky—and I want her screaming my name underneath it.