Chapter 28 Ramsey
Ramsey
I've never understood the concept of peace until this moment, watching her chest rise and fall in the soft glow of dawn streaming through my bedroom window.
Her black hair is spread across my pillow like spilled ink, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other—the one with my mark on it—resting on her bare stomach. There are bruises forming on her hips where I gripped her too hard, fingerprints that mark her as mine.
She's fucking ruined me.
I trace the curve of her face with my eyes, memorizing every detail like I'm afraid it'll disappear.
The slight part of her lips as she breathes.
The tiny scar behind her ear from when she fell ten years ago, before I was there to be her shadow, her phantom.
The flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks.
I should be exhausted. But I can't sleep. Won't sleep. If I close my eyes, I might miss something. Or worse, wake up to find this was all some fucked-up dream my desperate brain conjured up.
My fingers hover above her skin, not touching, just feeling the heat radiating from her.
I took her virginity. That thought keeps circling in my head like a fucking shark.
Her blood was on my cock. Inside her is my cum, probably still leaking out of her.
The most primal part of me is fucking thrilled at the idea of her walking around tomorrow with my seed dried on her thighs.
But another part is spiraling.
What the fuck did I do?
I've spent years keeping my distance, fighting against every instinct to claim her, to ruin her.
And in one night, I gave in to all of it.
I marked her body and her soul permanently.
That shit changes a man. Rewires his fucking DNA.
She's in my bloodstream now, an addiction I have no interest in kicking.
I've ruined her. Perfect, bright Reese who dances like she's made of fucking starlight—I've tainted her with my darkness.
She deserves someone gentle, someone who doesn't think about bending her over and fucking her ass until she cries.
Someone who doesn't get hard thinking about choking her until she's on the edge of consciousness while she comes on his cock.
Not me. Not this fucking monster who stayed awake all night watching her sleep like some kind of psychopath.
But I love her. Fuck, I love her so much it physically hurts, like someone's carved out my insides and replaced them with broken glass. I haven’t said those words to anyone since my mother died, but they're there, stuck in my throat, threatening to choke me.
A small noise escapes her throat as she shifts in her sleep, one leg thrown over mine, her face burrowing into my chest. My cock twitches against her thigh, already wanting her again. Fucking insatiable for her.
She moans softly, her lips forming my name in that half-conscious state between dreams and reality. The sound goes straight to my dick, making it throb against her warm thigh. I freeze, not wanting to wake her, but fuck if I don't want to slide inside her again.
"Ramsey," she whispers, her voice thick with sleep as she rolls over.
I hear the sharp hitch in her breath, watch as she clenches her thighs together. A tiny wince crosses her face, even in sleep. She's gotta be fucking sore as hell after what I did to her.
"Jesus Christ," she mumbles, eyes still closed, "you drove a Mack truck through my vagina."
A bark of laughter escapes me before I can stop it. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."
Her eyes flutter open, hazel irises still cloudy with sleep as they focus on my face. Her lips curl into a small smile that hits me like a fucking sledgehammer to the chest.
"Hey," she says, voice raspy.
"Hey yourself." I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. "How bad is it?"
She stretches, wincing again. "Like I've been split in half. Your dick should come with a warning label."
"Sorry," I mutter, not feeling sorry at all. In fact, some primitive part of me is fucking thrilled that she'll feel me between her legs all day.
"No, you're not," she says, reading my mind like she always does. "You look way too pleased with yourself."
I smirk, feeling like the fucking king of the world. "You're right. I'm not sorry at all. In fact, I'm pretty fucking proud of myself." I lean over and press a kiss to her forehead. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast."
She groans but doesn't protest when I pull away and grab a pair of sweatpants from my dresser. I don't bother with a shirt.
Ten minutes later, I'm in the kitchen mixing pancake batter, still riding the high of having Reese in my bed. I’m so lost in my head about what we did last night I almost don’t hear her come in.
Turning around, my jaw nearly hits the floor.
She's wearing my black Nike hoodie—my brand new one that I just fucking bought last week—and nothing else from what I can tell.
Her hair is wet, slicked back from her face, and her legs are bare, showing off the bruises on her thighs from where I held her down.
"You had to grab my new hoodie?" I ask, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. She looks fucking edible, drowning in my clothes.
She shrugs, the movement making the hoodie slip off one shoulder. "It's the least you could do after putting my lady bits out of commission," she says, limping dramatically to one of the barstools at the kitchen island. "Now feed me, you monster."
I laugh, turning back to the stove to pour the first pancake. "Monster, huh? Didn't hear you complaining last night when you were begging for more."
"Shut up," she mumbles, but I can hear the smile in her voice. "I was delirious from the orgasms I didn’t have to give myself."
"Delirious, my ass. You loved every fucking second of it."
I plate the first two pancakes and slide them across the counter to her. "Want some ice for your poor abused pussy?"
"Ramsey!" she yelps, looking scandalized but laughing.
"Oh, don't act all innocent now," I say, flipping another pancake. "Not after the filthy shit you were moaning in my ear last night."
She snorts, mouth full of pancake, and gives me the finger. Even that looks fucking adorable on her. Christ, I'm so far gone for this woman it's pathetic.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
I can't stop staring at her—at the way her wet hair drips onto the collar of my hoodie, at how she licks syrup from her lips, at the octopus peeking out from the too-long sleeve. I make a mental note to clean it for her as soon as we’re done with breakfast.
"So," she says finally, pushing her empty plate away. "About that bucket list."
"What about it?" I keep my voice casual, but my eye starts twitching. I can feel it—that telltale spasm that always gives me away when I'm about to lose my shit.
She takes a sip of orange juice, looking at me over the rim of her glass with those big hazel eyes. "Well, I was thinking..."
My jaw clenches so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. I set my fork down before I stab something with it, and the only thing I can stab is a pancake or myself.
"You were thinking what?" I prompt, voice tight. I swear to fucking hell if she says that she can do the rest on her own, or that she doesn’t want to do it anymore, or that she can cross the biggest one off her list…
"I was thinking we should add some more stuff to it." She grins, completely oblivious to the mental breakdown I'm having. "Like, a lot more stuff."
Wait, what?
"What?" I say out loud, blinking at her like a fucking idiot.
"The bucket list," she continues, stealing a piece of pancake from my plate. "I was thinking we could expand it. Make it our bucket list. Things we want to try...together."
The relief that floods through me is so intense it's almost painful. I actually have to brace my hands against the counter to keep from sagging.
"Oh yeah?" I recover quickly, raising an eyebrow at her. "Like what kinds of things?"
She shrugs, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I don't know. Maybe...things like what we did last night, but more."
"Like?" I ask, my voice a low rumble.
A wicked smile spreads across her face. "Well, I've never had sex in a public place."
Jesus fucking Christ. This girl is going to be the death of me.
"That so?" I lean against the counter, trying to look unfazed while my cock stirs in my sweatpants. "Where exactly did you have in mind?"
She shrugs, with an innocent look on her face that I know is complete bullshit. "I don't know. The library stacks? The dance studio after hours? The football field?"
"The field? Really?" I shake my head. "You'd get grass stains on that perfect ass of yours."
"Maybe I want grass stains," she counters, eyes gleaming. "Maybe I want you to bend me over right on the fifty-yard line and fuck me so hard I forget my own name."
And there goes my dick deflating. "While I would love to do that, Iris and Lincoln did that a few years ago and I still have bleach in my eyes from having to scrub the security footage for them so pick a different field please for the love of my sanity."
The smirk that crosses her face is sinister. I’ve never seen it before, almost beautifully demonic in nature.
"Well it would seem fitting that we follow in the footsteps of the only other people keeping it in the family, wouldn’t it?"
She’s been spending way too long with fucking Penn because my sweet star would never say such a thing. My goddamn cousin and his smart ass mouth have corrupted her.
"Omg, you should see your face right now. Gobsmacked is the best word I can use right now. Don’t worry, pretty boy. I’m only fucking my cousin, not my brother."