Chapter 24 Tierney
Our mingled panting filled Ramsay’s bedroom as we came down from our energetic sex and subsequent mind-blowing orgasms.
I’d felt his sexual tension all day, to the point where he’d avoided me the rest of the festival, and then practically dragged me back to his boat like a caveman.
As soon as we stepped inside his house on Stòr, he was on me.
I didn’t even get a chance to ask to see the dresser he’d apparently built for me.
Now, my inner muscles wouldn’t stop quivering from the strength of my climax.
“Oh God,” I moaned, pushing my hair back from my damp hairline.
The bastard Scot had brought me to the brink of orgasm so many times before pulling back until I was begging the asshole to make me come.
When he eventually did … holy fucking fuck fuck.
Yeah, I was ruined.
He’d ruined sex with other men for me for the rest of my goddamn life, and I didn’t even care. The experience with him was worth it.
Turning my head on the pillow to look at him, an aching pang lit across my chest. His eyes were closed, one arm flexed above his head on the pillow. He’d trimmed his beard so I could see all his rugged angles.
Ramsay McRae was the most beautiful man I’d ever met.
He’d scoff at that descriptor. Other people might even raise an eyebrow.
But to me he was beautiful.
And safe.
I thought of that Welsh dresser in his barn.
Maybe he wasn’t as detached from me emotionally as he’d like to make out. I threw myself out of bed and chuckled at the way I swayed a little. There was a familiar throb between my legs, and I thought of that Ariana Grande song “Side to Side” as I crossed the room to pull on Ramsay’s T-shirt.
“Where are you going?” His voice rumbled from the bedroom. He sounded relaxed. Content.
I loved that I could give him that.
“To check out my Welsh dresser.”
Ramsay groaned. “Can it not wait?”
“Nope.” I wandered out the door and stopped by the couch to pet Akiva who was now very used to our shenanigans. She kept out of the way but always looked at us when we reappeared as if to say Again? in what I imagined was beleaguered disgust.
She did, however, buss into my petting and when I crossed to the door, she hopped off the couch to follow me.
“Wait.” Ramsay strode out of the bedroom, pulling up a pair of joggers.
My cheeks flushed at the sight of his gorgeous half-nakedness, his hair mussed from my fingers. Seriously, I was insatiable for him.
“Shoes.” He pointed to my feet.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Shoes. There are wood shavings and pieces of metal in there. Shoes. Or I carry you.” He pulled on his own boots with a warning, bossy glare that really should have pissed me off.
Instead, I felt warmed by his concern. I didn’t show him that, though. I huffed, muttering about him bossing me around as I pulled on my boots.
“You love it,” he grumbled, stalking out the door.
“Only when you’re inside me!” I called back.
He flicked me a heated, amused look over his shoulder before marching to the barn to open the door.
Suddenly nervous, hoping for both our sakes I loved the dresser, I hurried with Akiva to follow him.
Ramsay hit the lights and gestured toward the back of the workshop. “Here.” He guided me across the barn.
“It needs either a stain or paint, but I wanted you to choose that.”
We stopped in front of it, and I gasped.
“No. No paint,” I opined immediately. “Can I touch it?”
“O’ course.”
I smoothed my hand along the top of the sideboard.
Like a traditional dresser it had a countertop and mounted to that was open cabinetry.
Except Ramsay had added drawers between the top and the bottom to match the cupboards in the sideboard.
There was space to display belongings on the countertop, maybe even put out breakfast items. And shelving on top to display the more elegant pieces I’d inherited from my grandmother’s crockery collection.
What made it modern were the clean lines, sharp edges, no fancy frills. And the legs, which were slanted at an angle with a midcentury modern vibe.
What made it beautiful was Ramsay had created it using small planks of wood to give the effect of herringbone.
It was cool and contemporary while still being beautiful. Exactly what I wanted.
“It’s stunning.” I opened the cabinets, inhaling the rich scent of the wood.
“I’m glad you like it.”
Turning to him, I slid my hands up his strong pecs and entwined my fingers behind his neck. It forced our bodies flush since I was quite a bit shorter than him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Seemingly uncomfortable with my gratitude, he gave my ass a little pat. “You’re welcome. Now, what color of stain to seal it?”
My lips twitched at his gruff subject change, and I studied the dresser. I couldn’t wait to see it in the dining room. “It matches the dining table we chose as it is.” He’d clearly paid attention to my overall design. There went my heart beating a little faster.
“So, a clear stain?”
“Yes. Please.” I bit my lip against a giddy grin as I stared at the piece of furniture.
Maybe … maybe he did care about me. Just a little.
Of course, I had to thank him properly.
A little while later, after I’d ridden him hard, we collapsed onto the bed again.
I knew we were done for the night because Ramsay whistled for Akiva.
We heard her pads hit the wooden floors before she appeared in the bedroom door.
Ramsay’s bed was huge, so it accommodated the large Malamute.
She jumped onto the foot of the bed and spread out to go to sleep.
Before Ramsay could roll over to switch off his light, I asked, “What was your life like before you came here?”
There were a million questions I wanted to ask him.
About his past. His life. If he’d ever been in love.
We’d steered clear of how he knew about Hugh, what he knew about Michelle, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to know more.
To give him the chance to confide whatever information about himself he was happy to share.
Ramsay was silent for a few seconds, and I shifted onto my side, tucking my hands beneath my cheek as I stared at him. Waiting.
He flicked me a look before staring at the bedroom ceiling. “I was in the marines. I moved around a lot.”
“Why did you retire?”
“It’s a young man’s job.”
“You were only thirty-four when you retired, though, right?”
“I was done.”
At his flat, almost snippy response, I sighed internally. “Where did they deploy you?”
“All over.”
My God! Frustration roared through me. It was like we were back at day one when he’d barely string three words together. I kept my frustration to myself. “Did you … did you inherit your books from your birth parents? You mentioned before they were an inheritance.”
His head whipped toward me, cutting me a narrowed-eyed look. “Silver.”
The word held a gentle warning.
Ramsay’s eyes spoke for him too.
The hope that had been building since he’d shown me the dresser turned cold and brittle and crumbled into dust. I clamped my lips shut.
He turned onto his side, giving me his back, and reached out to switch off the light.
As the room descended into darkness, I turned from him, not wanting to see his back in the shadows.
We’re not that, his eyes had said.
Tears burned in mine, and I cursed myself for letting my emotions go there in the first place.
Ramsay was merely escapism.
Yes, the sex was phenomenal.
But it was only sex.
He wasn’t a safe place to land after a couple of years of hell.
He was just … a distraction.
The bed suddenly moved and I tensed, thinking he was going to get up and disappear into his barn like he always did when I tried too hard to get close to him.
It was such a shock, then, when I felt his grip on my hips.
He pulled me into the middle of the bed, curling his body around mine.
Spooning me. His strong arms held me close, and he leaned in to confess in my ear, “I don’t like to talk about them.
My parents. If … I’ll talk about them when I’m ready. ”
This time the tears that burned my eyes were from relief. I nodded and whispered, “Okay.”
“You ever want to talk about yours, though … I’m here.”
“Ramsay …” I was confused. So confused. One second we weren’t that and now …
“I … it’s not just sex,” he murmured gruffly.
I squeezed my eyes closed, emotion thickening my throat. “No, it’s not.”
And for now, that was enough. I wiggled closer to him, covering his arm with mine and relaxing into sleep.
He seemed to understand.
Ramsay pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder and settled his head on the pillow behind me.
Just like that, I was safe again.
Problem was, I wanted to feel safe with him all the time. Not sporadically. Not only when we were having sex.
I wasn’t sure Ramsay McRae could give me that kind of certainty.