52. Blair
52
BLAIR
I stare out the window as Ransom guides Dad's truck down the familiar dirt road. The radio hums in the background, a whisper of sound that can't break through my spinning thoughts. My hands twist in my lap, fingers tangling and untangling.
The fields stretch out around us, endless and green. Ransom pulls into our old spot and cuts the engine. The silence wraps around us like a blanket.
"You meant it, right?" My voice cracks. "What you said to Maggie?"
Ransom turns to face me. "About Max?"
"Yeah." I swallow hard. "Because this isn't... it's not playing house. When she's gone—" The words stick in my throat. "Max will need stability. Structure. A home."
"Blair—"
"No, let me finish." I press my palms flat against my thighs. "He'll need someone who understands that some days he won't want to talk. That he might get angry, or sad, or both at once. Someone who won't push him to 'get over it' or 'move on.' Someone who'll just... be there."
"Like Robert was for us." Ransom's voice is soft.
"Exactly." My chest tightens. "And I'm terrified that I won't be able to be as good as my dad. I'm so scared that I won't have the patience. Or I'm going to fuck him up so bad he'll grow up to hate me."
Ransom doesn't say anything. He just tugs me across the bench seat until I'm tucked under his arm. And he lets me talk.
"Maggie read so many books. She still does. All these books on raising strong, happy kids. Yeah, I'm there, but I don't do any of that heavy emotional stuff. I like being the fun aunt. But I can't be the fun aunt when I'm nagging him about homework or bedtimes. He's going to hate me."
"He won't hate you. Not for long, anyway."
I snort-laugh and wipe my sleeve across my face. "Not for long, huh? That's comforting. You're so good at this cheering people up thing. I feel all better now."
Ransom chuckles at my sarcasm, his chest rumbling under my ear. He feels good. This feels good.
"I don't know if I'm up for this," I admit.
He makes a low humming sound. "I thought I was done raising kids. But between the two of us, Baby, we can handle anything. And we won't be doing it alone. We'll have this town and my family there to help every step of the way."
He's right. I know he is. But I still wish it wouldn't come to it. "I want her to be okay. And I want her to stop being such a stubborn asshole and do what I want. For once in her fucking life." She's always been the leader, and I've gone along with her. Most of the time, anyway.
"I know," he says, humming as his arm makes a slow stroke up and down my back. "I want her to be okay too."
"So you don't have to parent a six-year-old child who came home from school yesterday with crushed-up snails in his pockets?"
He laughs and grins down at me. "Not gonna lie, that was gross." It was gross. Ransom had to pick them out of the fabric and throw them away. He only gagged once. Honestly, it was really impressive and makes him even sexier in my eyes. We didn't even ask him to do it. He volunteered. That's a real man right there.
His smile dies, and he uses one finger to brush my hair off my cheek. "I liked Maggie when we were kids. I care about her. But I'll be honest, I didn't put that folder together for her. I did it for you."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that I will do anything in my power to make you happy. If I could snap my fingers and make her magically better just so that you wouldn't lose your best friend, I would. Putting that file together is the next step in my plan."
"The next step? And what happens if she won't look at the folder?"
His mouth twists, and he looks away. "Let's not go there."
"Um. We're going there."
He sighs and gives me a sheepish look. "We have a plan involving a chartered jet and some chloroform."
"Ran! Are you insane?" He just shrugs those big shoulders. He's not joking. He was seriously thinking about kidnapping Maggie. "You're not going to kidnap her."
He side-eyes me but doesn't say anything. I slap my hand on his chest, right over his pec, then start digging for his nipple. "You are not going to kidnap her! Promise me!" Do I want her healthy? Yes. Do I want anyone going to jail to make that happen? No. Do I want this man to do anything that might take him away from me? Not a fucking chance.
He squeaks and grabs at my hands before I can get a grip and twist. A nurple is a perfectly acceptable way to extract a promise. And it used to be really damned effective on him.
Apparently, it still is.
"Promise me," I demand, still trying to get at his chest while he holds my wrists. "No kidnapping. No arranging kidnapping. No helping with kidnapping."
"Fine! I promise!" Ransom yelps, squirming away. "No kidnapping or kidnapping-adjacent activities."
"Say the whole thing."
He rolls those dark eyes at me. "I promise I won't help, participate, or arrange for anyone to take Maggie to treatment against her will."
"Thank you." I relax my hands in his grip.
The laughter fades as I realize how we're tangled together. My knee is pressed between his thighs, chest against his. His hands are warm around my wrists, and I can feel his heart pounding against mine.
"Blair." His voice has gone deep, rough.
I look up and get caught in his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, leaving just a thin ring of brown. His breath catches as I shift against him.
"You feel so fucking good," he hisses out, shifting his hips under me.
Rolling my hips, I lean in closer until our lips are almost touching. "I dreamed of you last night. And what we'd feel like. I want to know." Our timing has sucked all the way along. There's always something coming between us.
But I'm done letting everything else be more important than us and what we want. Am I scared for Maggie.
Yeah.
But right now, I’m going to shove it down. Because I’m feeling all kinds of other things too, good things. Things it’s okay to feel.
"I want you," I tell him. "I want to feel every inch of you. I want to know what making love feels like because I've never done that with anyone. Because I've never loved anyone but you. You're my first in all the ways that matter."
He groans and closes that last inch between us. His mouth crashes into mine, desperate and hungry. He tastes like coffee and mint and something uniquely him that makes my head spin. His hands release my wrists to tangle in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
My whole body feels electric, like every nerve ending is firing at once. I press closer, wanting more, needing more. His tongue slides against mine, and I whimper into his mouth.
One of his hands slides down my back, pulling me tighter against him. Heat pools low in my belly as his teeth graze my bottom lip. I've been kissed before, but he’s the only one who’s ever kissed me like this. Like he's trying to consume me, like he needs me to breathe. I do my best to wedge myself in his lab, my ass pressing against the steering wheel. It’s a very tight fit.
I fumble with the bottom of Ransom’s t-shirt, my fingers suddenly thick and useless. He's not faring much better, his hands trembling as he tries to unhook my bra. It's like we're teenagers again, all eager limbs and no finesse. I can't help but laugh as my ass hits the horn, the loud honk echoing through the quiet field.
"Shit!" Ransom mutters, his knees banging into the dash. He curses again, rubbing his leg, and I dissolve into giggles.
"This isn't quite how I remembered it," I say, wiping tears from my eyes.
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "We were a lot smaller then."
“Yeah, we were. But we’re two intelligent, grown adults now. We should be able to figure this out.”
He grins, and his lips crash against mine in a passionate kiss. His tongue slides against mine, and I moan, my laughter forgotten. I try to wrap my arms around him and end up tangled in the seatbelt.
He pulls back, breathing hard. "This isn't working."
Before I can protest, he tosses me across the bench seat. I land with a soft "oof," my head spinning. He shoves the driver's door open, the cool afternoon air rushing in. Then he's climbing over me, knees between my legs, his hands braced on the seat behind me.
"There," he says, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Much better."
I raise an eyebrow. "Better for who? I kinda liked being on top."
He grins, leaning down to nip at my bottom lip. "Both of us, I hope. And trust me Baby, you can be on top any time you want. Later."
He kisses me again, his body pressing against mine. I can feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and I buck my hips, desperate for friction. He groans, his hands sliding up my sides, taking my shirt with them.
He pulls back just enough to tug the fabric over my head, leaving me in my bra. His gaze drops to my chest, his eyes darkening. "God, Blair," he breathes, his fingers tracing the lace edge of my bra. "You're so fucking beautiful."
I blush, squirming under his intense gaze. I've never been good at taking compliments. I know he means it; I can see it in his eyes. "My boobs are starting to sag," I say, reaching up to push his shirt off his shoulders.
He chuckles, helping me remove the shirt. "I have five grey chest hairs. And I have to hold paperwork at arm's length to read it."
Smiling, I run my fingers through his chest hair, searching for the grey strands but getting distracted. His chest is a work of art, all hard muscles and smooth skin. I run my hands over his pecs, my fingers tracing the lines of his ribs. He's so much bigger than he was, the slabs of muscle packed on strong bones. He shivers under my touch, his breath hitching.
I lean up, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. He groans, his head falling back. I take advantage, trailing kisses down his chest, my hands exploring every ridge and valley.
He lets me play, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But when I reach for the button of his jeans, he grabs my wrists, stopping me. "Not yet," he says, his voice rough. "I want to touch you first."
He pushes me back against the seat, his hands sliding up my thighs. He reaches the edge of my jeans, his fingers toying with the button. I squirm, my breath hitching as his fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing against my sensitive skin.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his eyes locked on mine as he undoes the button, and eases the zipper down, making room for his hand. Thank fuck I like my jeans loose.
I give a nod, my heart pounding like a drum. "Yes," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "Everything's okay, as long as you don't have any strange fetishes, like wanting to pee on me. But anything else you want to do is a-ok."
He lets out a chuckle, his fingers sliding further, finding the heat of my desire. I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily as he begins to stroke me, his touch gentle yet firm. I can feel the calluses on his fingers, the rough texture sending shivers down my spine.
He leans down, capturing my mouth in another kiss, deeper and more passionate than before. His tongue moves in time with his fingers, a slow, sensual dance that has me writhing beneath him, my body responding instinctively to his touch. I can feel the pressure building, my body tensing as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.
He pulls back, his breath hot on my cheek. "Come for me, Blair," he whispers, his voice low and urgent. "Let me see you fall apart."
For a moment, I fight it. I want this to last forever. But everything feels too good, too hot, too big. But then, his hips push against my core, pressing his hand harder against me, and with a low moan, I give in, letting myself fall into the abyss.
I tumble over the edge, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure wash over me. He continues to stroke me, his touch gentle now, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.
When I finally come down, I find him watching me, a soft smile on his lips. "That was..." I trail off, unable to find the words.
He chuckles. "Yeah," he says, his voice hoarse. "It was."
"I didn't know," I murmur, staring up at him. Pretty sure he has a halo. "Nothing's felt like that. Not ever." Adam who? Seriously. He's a good guy, but I never felt even a tenth of this heat with him.
God. What if I'd settled for Adam? What if I'd married him and thought that was love? That feeling good was all there was?
With Ransom, it's so much more. More everything. Too much more. I want to hang on to make sure I don't fly away.
So I do.
I reach for him, pulling him down for another kiss. This time, it's slower, sweeter. But the heat is still there, simmering just beneath the surface. I can feel it in the way his body presses against mine, in the way his hands tangle in my hair.
I reach for his jeans again, and this time, he doesn't stop me. I flick open the button, sliding the zipper down. He helps me push the fabric down his hips, his breath hitching as I reach into his underwear and wrap my hand around him.
He's hot and hard in my hand, and I stroke him slowly, my thumb brushing over the tip. He groans, his head falling forward, his forehead resting against mine.
"Fuck, Blair," he breathes, his hips moving in time with my hand. "That feels so good."
I smile, my heart swelling at the raw honesty in his voice. This is Ransom, my Ransom, the boy I fell in love with all those years ago. And now, here we are, fumbling and laughing and loving each other in the front seat of my dad's old truck.
"Do you think Dad knows we're defiling his truck?" Shit. Where did that come from? Way to kill the mood, McKenna.
Ransom rears up, giving me a startled look. "Did you seriously bring up your Dad?"
"Nope. Never mind. I never said anything." I start wiggling out of my jeans and underwear. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Thankfully, he’s completely distracted by and busies himself tugging my pants down. My slip on sneakers are tossed somewhere in the footwell, then he falls into the cradle of my hips. Our parts line up perfectly, making both of us groan.
"Holy fuck. Dammit, Blair, I had a fucking plan. But I feel like I'm going to get inside you and that will be it. I feel like a fucking teenager."
I run my hands down his back, squeezing his ass. "No, you really don't. Trust me. You are all man and very grown up."
Laughing, he drops his forehead. "I didn't know it could be like this. I didn't know we could laugh. And tease each other. And all of it would be so fucking right."
"I didn't either. But I really like it. It feels like it's exactly the way it's supposed to be."
He sighs with his whole body, sinking further into me, his hardness pressing right against my pussy. I want him in me now. When I tell him, he groans, breathing heavily against my cheek.
"We need to have that conversation. The one where I ask you if we need a condom."
Right. That conversation. "I wish I could say we didn't. But this has happened so fast. For today, we should." I don't say the rest of it, because we both know. We've had other partners. And in a matter of a week, all of them are in the past. But I love this man too much to put him at risk of anything. So we'll use a condom, and when life gives us a fucking break, we'll do the tests.
I'm worried it might be a mood killer, but he just nods and wiggles in a way that makes me very happy as he fishes his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulls a condom out, then tosses the wallet on the floorboard.
I snatch the condom from Ransom's fingers, impatient and way too eager. The tension between us is thick, electric, and I'm enjoying drawing this out, making him squirm. His eyes, dark and hungry, follow my every movement as I tear open the packet.
"You know," I say, my voice low and teasing, "I've never been very good at this part. Always fumble and make a mess of it." I pause, the condom poised at his tip, watching as his breath hitches. "Maybe you should give me a hand?"
Ransom's chest rumbles with a low growl. "Blair," he warns, his hands gripping the seat beneath us. I can see the restraint in his muscles, the effort it's taking him not to take control.
I lean in, my lips brushing against his ear. "Or maybe," I whisper, "you should just sit back and let me figure it out."
He groans, his forehead dropping against mine. I take my time, my fingers tracing the length of him, feeling him pulse beneath my touch. I roll the condom on, slow and deliberate, my eyes locked on hard length. His jaw is clenched, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"There," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "Now, where were we?"
Ransom's hands are on me in an instant, gripping my hips, pulling me against him. I can feel the heat of him, the hardness, and it sends a shiver down my spine. His mouth finds mine, his kiss hungry and demanding. I press against him, my body aching for more.
That's when we both realize I still have my bra on. There's no fumbling this time. He unclips that thing like he's done it before. And all of a sudden, a memory pops into my head, and I dissolve into laughter.
Ransom nips at my chin. "You're hell on my ego. What's so funny?"
Giggling, I peer up at him. "Do you remember when you stole my bra and," hiccuping, I bury my face in his chest. When I look back up, his ears are red. "And you strapped it on that chair. And I walked in on you trying to unstrap it one-handed?"
"Nope. I don't remember that. It never happened. Must have been someone else."
"Oh, it was definitely you. You jerked away from that chair so fast you fell over and cut open the back of your head. How did I forget that?" Maybe it was easier to remember the bad stuff. Maybe the way we ended colored the way I viewed everything else. But there were good times. A lot of them. And I want to remember them, and talk about them.
"I wish you would," he groans. "That wasn't my finest moment."
"It was adorable. And I liked taking care of you after."
"I expected you to give me shit about that, but you never did. Why?"
I widen my thighs, reaching down to guide him into me. "Because I hoped you were practicing for me. Even then. And if you weren't, I didn't want to know.”
He smiles, and it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "It was always you." And then he's pushing into me, slow and steady, his eyes never leaving mine. I gasp, my body stretching to accommodate him. He feels so good, so right.
He begins to move, his hips rocking against mine. I meet him thrust for thrust, my hands clinging to his shoulders. The gear shift digs into my thigh, but I barely notice, too lost in the sensation of him inside me. "This is so weird," I whisper, arching up and gasping. "If you stuck your finger up my nose, I'd have a problem with it. But you can do this to me anytime you want."
He's laughing as he leans down, capturing my mouth in another kiss. His tongue slides against mine, and I moan, my body tightening around him. He groans, his pace quickening, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I never imagined it this way. I didn't imagine laughing so much our first time."
"Are you disappointed?"
"Not even a little bit. This is perfect. You're perfect."
Then his hips pick up speed, and his jaw gets tight. "Blair," he breathes, his voice hoarse. "I'm close, baby. I'm so close."
I nod, my own body teetering on the edge. "Me too," I gasp. "Ransom, please..."
He reaches between us, his fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. He strokes me, his touch firm and sure, and I tumble over the edge, my body convulsing around him.
He follows me, his body tensing as he finds his release. He collapses on top of me, his breath hot on my neck. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as our hearts pound together.
We stay like that for a long moment, our bodies entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal. Then he pulls back, a soft smile on his lips.
"Well," he says, his voice rough. "I've been dreaming about going all the way with you in this truck since I was fifteen."
A startled laugh escapes me. "All the way? You sound fifteen again."
Ransom nuzzles into my throat, his voice a low rumble. "Don't feel like it. Got a cramp in my ass cheek, but I'm too lazy to move. Gonna ride it out."
I laugh, the sound echoing in the cab of the old truck. I try to shift, to rub the offending muscle, but I feel him growing inside me again. "Ransom..." I whisper, a smile playing on my lips.
He groans, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. "Maybe I am fifteen again. My dick is at least."
Pure happiness bubbles up from my chest, and I press a kiss to his shoulder. "Is that so?"
He nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Seems like it's got a mind of its own around you."
I shift beneath him, feeling the truth of his words. "Is it weird that I'm kinda proud of that?"
He grins, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. "No. You should be proud. It's all you."
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I like that you want me that much."
His eyes darken, and he leans in, capturing my lips in a soft, tender kiss. This time, there's no urgency, no desperation. It's just us, rediscovering each other, taking our time.
He pulls back, his breath hot on my cheek. "You feel so good, Blair. Like coming home."
My heart tightens at his words, and I press a kiss to his jaw. "You feel like home to me too, baby." I've never called anyone that. I can't decide if I like it. Maybe I'll try a few other endearments out before I settle on one. Though he likes it just fine, judging by his reflexive thrust.
His eyes are warm and so, so soft as he shifts, his hips moving slowly against mine. I gasp, my eyes fluttering closed as he fills me completely. He takes his time, each thrust deliberate, each touch tender.
I open my eyes, finding him watching me, his gaze soft. "What?" I whisper, suddenly self-conscious.
He smiles, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. "Just you. You're so beautiful, Blair. Always have been."
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, and I press a kiss to his thumb. "You're not so bad yourself."
He chuckles, his hips never stopping their slow, steady pace. "I'm glad you think so."
I run my hands down his back, feeling the muscles shift under my touch. "I do. I always have."
He leans down, capturing my mouth in another slow, deep kiss. I moan, my body arching into his. He swallows the sound, his tongue sliding against mine, his body moving in time with his kiss.
He pulls back, his breath ragged. "I love you, Blair. I never stopped."
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close. "I love you too, Ransom. I never stopped either."
He presses his forehead to mine, his eyes closed. "I'm so sorry, Blair. For everything."
I shake my head, my voice thick with emotion. "No more apologies. No more looking back. Just us, just this."
He nods, opening his eyes to meet my gaze. "Just us."
He starts to move again, his body rocking against mine. Each touch, each kiss is a promise. I meet him thrust for thrust, my body in sync with his.
I can feel the pleasure building, a slow, steady burn. I cling to him, my breath coming in gasps. "Ransom..."
He kisses me, his tongue sliding against mine. "I'm here, baby. I'm right here."
I tumble over the edge, my body convulsing around him. He follows me, his body tensing as he finds his release. We cling to each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths ragged.
As we come down, he presses soft kisses to my face, my neck, my shoulders. I laugh, squirming under the onslaught. "Stop, stop. That tickles."
He grins, propping himself up on his elbows. “I love that you didn’t grow out of that. I’m so glad some things never change."
I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs, capturing it in a quick nip. "Some things do, though. Like this. Like us."
I nod, my fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Like us."
He carefully rolls us until he's underneath me and pulls me into his chest. He tugs off the condom and deals with it. It’s probably somewhere on the floorboards. My ass is out, the cool breeze from the open door brushing over it. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. We lie like that for a long moment, our bodies entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal.
"We're going to be okay," I murmur. It's not a question anymore. It's a statement. "I want Maggie to be okay. I want her to be around for a long time. But if the worst happens, we'll be okay."
Ransom cups my cheek and runs his thumb over my lips. "Yeah, baby, we'll be okay. No matter what."
A crunch of gravel breaks through our blissful haze. My head snaps up. "Shit! Car!"
Ransom's eyes go wide. "Where's my shirt?"
I scramble for my clothes, nearly kneeing him in the groin. "Floor! I don't know! Where else could it be?" I yank my jeans on, wiggling around on the seat.
We bump heads as we both dive for my bra. Ransom rubs his forehead, laughing. "Ow! Your skull's made of fucking concrete."
"You were more coordinated when you were fifteen!" He gasps, looking betrayed. Biting my lip, I yank my shirt over my head, inside out.
Ransom hops on one foot beside the truck, trying to pull his jeans up. He slams into the door. "Jesus! Fucking hell!"
I'm still looking for my other shoe when headlights sweep across us. We freeze like deer, then burst out laughing. Through the windshield, I spot an old Chevy truck, not unlike Dad's.
Two teenagers peer at us from inside, looking mortified. The boy behind the wheel has his mouth hanging open.
Ransom, finally dressed, gives them a knowing look. He makes an exaggerated motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key.
"Oh god," I snort, crawling across the seat and hiding my face in his shoulder. "We're those people now. The old perverts at makeout point."
"Speak for yourself, grandma. I'm in my prime." He waves at the kids as we resettled ourselves in the cab.
I tug on my shoe, still giggling. "Your shirt's on backwards."
"Your hair looks like you stuck your finger in a socket."
"At least I found both my shoes."
He glances down at his feet. "Ah, hell."
After unsuccessfully scrambling around to find the missing shoe, we pull away, leaving the teenagers to their evening. Ransom's hand finds mine across the seat, and I can't stop smiling.
"Worth losing a shoe for?" I ask.
He brings my knuckles to his lips. "Worth losing both shoes, both socks, and my dignity."