Chapter 15
Ellie
Ringo’s low rumble sent shivers through me. The way his eyes hungered as he scanned my face and body thrilled me. But it was the faith he had in those lies he used to describe me which undid me. “I’m not smart.”
“You are. Street smarts count. You have that in abundance.”
“I blame Kat for that.”
He shrugged, ceding the point. “You can’t blame Kat for you how pretty you are.”
Rogue. “May I kiss you? I promise to be careful and not pull your yo-yo string if you don’t want me to.”
Instead of replying, he swept me close, and his mouth met mine almost instantly.
His kisses were starved and overpowering.
I wanted sweet, so I met his force and took control of the kiss, allowing a moment of ravaging insanity, then drew back just a little and softened the kiss until only our lips pressed together. But in that movement I poured my heart.
Everything I felt for him, the insecurities and the longing, the wonder and the fear, was softened and rolled into something so big it dragged me toward the center of the earth, but also made me fly. When the kiss broke, his expressive eyes reflected my fear.
“I promise,” I repeated.
He drew a breath. “I want you.”
With deliberate caution, I loosened my grip on his shoulder.
But only with one hand. Once free, I slid it down his arm and found his fingers.
With only a little tug, I stepped back once.
He followed my lead. His eyes traveled to the arch behind me.
Immediately beyond the transition from family room to foyer was a door on the right wall.
It opened to the room we’d spent every night in since Johnny destroyed my bedroom. Ringo’s eyes fixed on that opening.
“Only if you’re sure.” I’d sleep somewhere else and deal with the nightmares. I’d managed that by myself for over two decades.
He bent and slipped a hand behind my back, and another under my knees. Barely a second later, I was in his arms and he was moving fast. He kicked the door wider with his foot and cleared the hallway and turn with ease. I clung to his neck afraid my weight was too much.
But he’d carried me before. Hell, full-on ran with me tossed carelessly over one shoulder, uphill. He was strong.
Another piece of my heart stripped free of the cage I’d put around it and soared toward the promise that I’d finally found a man who could protect me. I tried like hell to tug it back, caution it, and cajole it to return to its guarded fortress, but it wouldn’t listen. I was losing.
Worse? I would hurt Ringo if I let the rest of my heart follow. Then again, I suspected it was already in mutiny and had found the keys to the prison. It was only lingering behind to wait for my brain to catch up.
And that traitorous organ whispered, you love him. It knew. My heart knew.
Heck, my soul knew him the first moment we met in line at the airport in Vegas.
He’d overheard my argument with the airline staff and offered me cash to use Johnny’s ticket to Italy.
Since they’d informed me the window to get a refund was closed, I jumped on it.
And for the next twenty hours Ringo entertained me with stories, jokes, and even better, was a bulwark the outside world had to crash against to get at me. And nothing did.
He was a seasoned traveler. That made the transfers, customs, and other hoops breeze by. Not even Allie could have arranged things better.
In hindsight, the trip went almost too smoothly.
He waited at the edge of the bed. “You still with me?”
“How did you get through the gate with Johnny’s name on the ticket?”
His cheek grooved with a smile that quirked up only on one side. “Trade secret.”
I sighed.
He let me down. “And…I’ve lost you.”
“No. It’s…I’m still processing, but I do want you. I was thinking about how we met.” He deserved more honesty from me than that. “About how I recognized a kindred spirit almost instantly.” I met his eyes, so he’d see through the walls and know I was telling the truth.
“I was using you.”
His confession made me laugh. “I knew that.”
“You did?”
I nodded. “You said I’m street smart.” I let that dangle a little so he’d catch up. “Duh.”
An uncharacteristic blush crept up his skin. He licked his lips and tried to study me while also trying to hide the act. Eventually, he gave up and stared at the carpet. “Kindred spirits…”
I tugged on his shirt so he’d pay attention. “Yes. My soul knows yours. Deal with it.”
His mouth opened a little. I longed to kiss him again.
“Ringo?”
Something cleared on his face. “We’re even.”
It took me a moment to catch up. “Yes, we’re even. You used me, I might have used you to get over the wound of my ego getting bruised by Johnny’s bad behavior. We’ve even. Now, where do we go from here?”
His eyes drifted to the bed.
With a tug, I pounced onto the mattress, dragging him with me. The robe’s knot worked loose, and I snuck a hand up his shirt. We were both kissing the other deeply. His tongue twisted with mine, vying for control. It was messy and perfect.
I got one of his arms released from the sleeve, but the rest of his shirt tangled on his chest.
My robe pooled at my waist, and he wrapped his freed hand around my left tit. I glanced down, realizing this was moving fast.
Our eyes met.
Ringo tipped his head, as if to ask, are we going to talk or …not?
I shook my head and slipped my hands free from the fabric and stripped his shirt off. I tossed it on the floor before attacking the fastening of his pants.
But I couldn’t finish the job because he picked me up again and tipped me to my back. His body wedged between my legs and his shoulders kept them spread wide. I protested until his mouth met my pussy.
There were much better things to do than complain. I gripped his hair. Control or desperation drove my fingers to tangle there and dig in.
He growled against my clit. A shiver of ecstasy shot through my body, and I couldn’t stop the cry of delight that broke free.
That sound made him double his efforts to drive me insane.
His tongue flicked in maddening erratic circles, and he’d shifted his grip on my legs to press against the soft hinge of my hips.
His thumbs were free to caress my slick skin under his chin.
I squirmed as one thumb rimmed the opening. “Ringo, please.” I needed him inside me. I needed release. Hell. I needed him desperately.
His reply was muffled by his lips and tongue working me toward the edge. It buzzed against my skin. That made my eyes cross. “Do that again.”
His half stifled laugh blew across my skin. I moaned because I missed his mouth terribly. A second later he hummed and flattened his tongue on my clit.
I shot out of my head as my pussy clamped down on the finger he’d slipped inside me. My cries panted free as my body both came alive and shut out the world. It focused on the sensations shooting through my system, and tightened around his head.
He licked me again, and my back arched. A moan, unladylike and guttural escaped. I couldn’t even form his name as I panted in its wake.
“There you are,” he said as my eyes refocused.
His chin was wet and his eyes sharp. He’s a wolf. I thought. Casey’s warning almost made me giggle. “Get up here. Let me taste you.”
Ringo grinned. “You mean, taste yourself.”
Whatever. I dragged him by the hair so I could latch onto his mouth.
My legs wrapped around his waist to fit his covered dick against my sensitized pussy.
It felt good, but not nearly good enough.
I broke free and shoved him to his knees so I could finally unbutton those damn slacks and strip him bare.
“Ellie.”
I ignored him, getting the button free and attacking the zipper.
His voice sharpened. “Ellie.”
I froze, barely daring to meet his eyes. “I want you.”
A smile washed over his face. Sure, a little devious, and naughty, but also lighter than any I’d seen on his face before. “Let’s not pretend we don’t like each other, okay?”
He was a piece of work. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last few minutes?”
His grin deepened. “Hopefully enjoying the shit out of yourself.”
“Yeah. And now I want you to enjoy the shit out of yourself. Take. Your. Pants. Off!” I tugged the fabric with each word.
He leaned away from me. The smile morphing into something else. It wasn’t a frown, but it had changed. The glint in his eyes held fire.
My heart went all in. “I dare you.”
His nostrils flared. The colder, deadlier side leaked through his expression. “I told you, I’m a jealous man.”
“And?”
The expression on his face settled into that wall of determination and control I’d witnessed once.
It was right before he pulled the trigger of a wicked-looking rifle.
Barely a second later, up the slope, against the wind, and masked by a bank of scrubby trees, a man fell out of his blind.
Shot directly between the eyes. This was the assassin staring at me.
It thrilled me. I must be sick to want him so, but maybe that was my shadow? Or maybe it was the shadow I created to laugh in the face of authority. It grew inside me to protect me from the monsters that lurked in the dark. I leaned into that villain they created. “And?”
The devil he joked about grinned at me. “And you will never leave me. Understand?”
“Like I want to?” I reached for his pants to slip the garment down his hips.
He trapped my fingers. “Do you? Do you want to be free of me?”
Never. “I’ll let you know if that surfaces again, okay? And I’ll be nice about it.”
“Fair enough.” He lifted one knee, then the other and wiggled free from his clothing. His cock hung heavy and stiff. The tip glistened with precum. I licked my lips, imagining how good that would taste.
Or better yet, feel between my legs.
He held it in place with one hand. “Ladies’ choice, Ellie. Which set of lips are going to kiss this first?”
Damn. I felt those words in my pussy. But I crawled to him and licked the tip, torturing myself for a few minutes longer.
His fingers tangled in my hair. “Babe.”
That groan was all the encouragement I needed to suck him deep and curl my tongue against his flesh. I traced the nuances of him from tip to root and back. He tried to hold in place, but his hips rocked toward me every time I took him deep.
“Ellie.” There was a note in his voice. It begged me to stop. Or maybe it begged me to finish him.
I did neither immediately. Instead, I worked him, played with him, toyed with him at the edge of danger. I could do no less because it was who I was.
When his fingers tightened their grip, I let him pop free.
My breath came in gasps and I yearned for him to fill me up.
He released my hair and dragged my lips to his for an echo of our previous kiss.
The next thing I knew I was on my back. He’d flipped me there without hurting me, and before I could register that I’d been man-handled expertly.
His cock fitted against me. He gave me a breath, maybe two as he dragged the tip between my lower lips. Then found home and sank deep.
This. This was where heaven started. I groaned his name. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want.”
My encouragement made him smile. “Say it again. Say my name. Tell me who owns you.”
I panted. “Ringo.” It was a warning, but also a plea. “You fucker.”
He planted deep. So deep, I pulsed around him once. It wasn’t an orgasm, but it might have been a warning. “My name, baby.”
I met his eyes. “Say mine.”
“Ellie.” He stroked out and then resumed his deep penetration and held there. “I l—”
His eyes were hooded. Even as we hung there, listening to the echoes of his near mistake, I knew.
“Ringo? I love you. I have since you left me in Venice. Remember? You were such a gentleman that you told me to enjoy my vacation. And you left.”
His eyes closed, but his grip on my hips tightened. “I remember.”
“And then, you came back.” My voice quivered a little. “And I loved you a little more. Each time you come back, it happens whether I want it to or not. I love you.”
The anguish on his face was real. “You shouldn’t.”
I grabbed his hair. “Shut up and fuck me.”
“Baby…” His body curled into mine and he whispered my name against my skin. “Ellie, you own me. I don’t know—”
“Shhh…” I arched so he’d move and he did. Each stroke held promise, lies, and the intriguing sharpness of two souls who knew the other intimately, thoroughly, and completely. While the memories weren’t there, the recognition was. We fit.
He pumped harder, digging for that light we both knew once but had lost. I clung to him, tearing at him to plead silently for help to rip down the walls we’d built. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I said his name over and over.
Ringo dug deep, a cry on his lips and his heart in those echoes. And I followed him with a final mental swing like a sledgehammer crashing inside and bursting forth with agony.
As the flutters quieted, he kissed my shoulder. His voice was barely a whisper. Maybe even softer than that. A breath. A secret?
“I love you.”
Why did his whispered confession make me want to cry?