Chapter 38
Ramsey
My tattoo's still stinging when I pull into my driveway, but all thoughts of irritation vanish when I see her. Reese is out of Reagan's Suburban before I can even kill the engine, sprinting toward me with that fucking smile that makes my chest feel like it's being crushed.
"Ram!" she shouts, launching herself at me the second I step out of my car.
I catch her automatically. I always fucking catch her and her legs wrap around my waist like they belong there. My hands grip her thighs to steady her, and I try not to think about how easy it would be to slide them higher, to grab her ass and pull her against me where I'm already getting hard.
"Miss me?" I ask, voice rougher than I intended.
She buries her face in my neck. "Always."
The horn blares, making Reese jump in my arms. I tighten my grip on her, glaring over at Reagan, who's rolling down her window.
"Hey, asshole!" Reagan yells. "Come say hi to your niece before she gets a complex that Uncle Mini-Me doesn't love her!"
I roll my eyes. "Your sister's a pain in my ass," I mutter to Reese, who giggles against my skin.
"I heard that!" Reagan shouts.
I don't put Reese down as I walk over to the Suburban. She clings to me like a koala, and I'm not complaining. With one hand supporting her weight, I pull open the back door to see my niece strapped in her car seat, kicking her little legs.
"Hey, Rebel," I say, and the baby breaks into a toothless grin.
Something about the interior of the SUV catches my attention—the worn leather, the specific pattern of the door panels. Recognition hits me like a punch to the gut.
"Shit," I say, looking at Reagan in the rearview mirror. "Did Penn ever tell you this is the same fucking car? The one we used when he kidnapped you?"
Reagan's face goes from confused to horrified to murderous in about two seconds flat.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she snarls, twisting around in her seat. "This is the goddamn getaway car?"
"The very same," I confirm, unable to help the smirk. "Sentimental value, I guess."
"I've been driving my baby around in the same vehicle you Blackwood psychopaths used to kidnap me?" She's practically foaming at the mouth. "I'm going to murder your cousin in his sleep!"
Reese is shaking with laughter against me. "Oh my god, Penn is so dead."
"Penn knew exactly what he was doing," I say. "He's got a twisted sense of humor."
As Reagan launches into a full-blown rant about my cousin’s twisted sense of humor and what she's going to do to his dick when she gets home, I tune her out.
I've heard enough of Reagan's creative threats over the years to know she'll cool down by the time she sees him.
Besides, I've got something much more interesting to focus on.
I lean into the backseat, Reese still clinging to my side, and get a better look at little Rebel. She's grown since I saw her last week, her chubby cheeks even fuller, those eyes—just like her mom's and aunt's—wide and curious.
"Look at you, little bat girl," I coo, completely forgetting to be a hardass for a second.
She's decked out in this tiny pastel purple onesie covered in black bats. It's got this ridiculous little tutu attached and a matching headband with bat wings.
"Nice outfit," I say, reaching in to let her grab my finger with her tiny hand. "I'm surprised she doesn't have fishnet stockings to match her mother's."
Reagan pauses mid-rant to flip me off. "Fuck you, Ramsey."
I lean in and press a soft kiss to Rebel's forehead. She makes this gurgling sound that does weird shit to my chest.
"We'll catch up later, my little bat princess," I murmur, then close the car door.
Reagan stopped her tirade, staring at Reese and me with this weird expression. Her eyes move from where Reese is still wrapped around me to my face.
"It's still so fucking weird seeing you guys like…together together," she says, shaking her head. "After all the years of you being a creepy stalker."
"I wasn't a stalker," I protest.
"You absolutely were," Reese whispers in my ear, then nips at my earlobe.
My dick twitches.
Reagan narrows her eyes at me. "Don't fucking marry her unconscious, and don't knock her up, for fuck's sake," she warns, starting the SUV.
She backs out of the driveway, tires squealing slightly. I flip her off as she goes, and she returns the gesture through the windshield.
I walk us right through the front door, kicking it shut behind me before dropping both of us onto the couch.
Reese still clings to me, but she shifts, adjusting herself so she’s straddling my lap.
I feel her thighs flexing on either side of my hips, and I love when they do. My girl is strong as hell.
Her ass settles right against my cock, and I have to bite back a groan.
"So how was your day with Reagan and the kids?" I ask, trying to distract myself from how badly I want to rip her clothes off.
Reese shifts her weight, grinding against me slightly. The little tease knows exactly what she's doing.
"It was good," she says, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. "You should've seen Penn in the backyard. He was building this massive princess castle for Rebel, but kept insisting it needed to be—and I quote—'badass enough for a Blackwood.'"
I snort, my hands sliding up her thighs. "Let me guess, he's painting it black?"
"Yup." She shifts on my lap again, and fuck if I don't nearly groan. "Complete with a working drawbridge and these little turrets where he says she can 'rain down hell on her enemies.'"
"Jesus Christ." My cousin is fucking certifiable.
"He's fully embracing girl-dad life," she continues, her fingers now trailing down my chest. "Even said he's starting to teach Riot and Ransom some of his tricks of the trade. Says the twins need to be prepared to defend their sister’s honor when they're older."
I could laugh, but honestly it’s not that absurd, although I don’t think three-year-olds need to learn about castrating someone just yet. Thank fuck they have a semi-normal mother to hopefully put that off for a few more years.
She keeps talking, and I just let her voice wash over me, soothing the frayed nerves from earlier being away from her. I hate being away from her.
"Mhm," I murmur, only half-listening as I watch her lips move. Her mouth is fucking perfect—plush and pink and always saying shit that makes me either want to laugh or bend her over the nearest surface.
Right now, it's definitely the latter.
I lean my head back against the couch and pull her toward me, capturing her mouth with mine.
My hand threads through her hair, gripping the silky strands at the back of her head while my thumb finds its place at the center of her throat.
I can feel every little vibration, every swallow, every catch in her breath as I deepen the kiss.
She moans into my mouth, and I can feel it pulse through my touch, down my arm, straight to my cock. I tighten my grip in her hair, angling her head exactly how I want it, taking complete control of the kiss.
When I finally pull back, her pupils are blown wide, just a thin ring of hazel around the black. Her lips are swollen, and her chest rises and falls rapidly.
"You weren't listening to a word I said, were you?" she asks, but there's no heat behind it.
"I was listening," I defend myself, stroking the delicate skin of her throat. "Penn's building a bitchy-badass-Blackwood castle and teaching the twin heathens to be little murderers. I got it."
She rolls her eyes but smiles. "You're impossible."
"And yet here you are," I say, pressing my a little more firmly against her throat, just enough for her to feel it. "Sitting on my lap, getting wet for me."
Her breath catches, and I know I'm right. I can feel the heat of her through her leggings, against my pants.
"Don't be so fucking full of yourself," she says, but her voice has that breathless quality that tells me exactly how turned on she is.
I slide my free hand from her thigh to cup her ass, pulling her more firmly against me. "Why not? You're the one who's going to be full of me later."
She smacks my shoulder and narrows her eyes. "Knock it off. You'll get nothing if you don't show me your new tattoo."
"What new tattoo?" I try to play dumb, but she's not having it.
"Don't bullshit me, Ramsey. You literally have your hand wrapped." She shifts back on my thighs, crossing her arms. "It's also rude as fuck that you got it without me."
I can't help the slow grin that spreads across my face. "Baby, you caught the itch, huh? Wanting more ink now?"
"Maybe," she admits, her fingertips tracing the visible tattoos on my forearms. "But that’s not the point."
"I promise, not another one without you." I squeeze her thigh. "It was just spur of the moment after I helped Nico with something else."
She raises an eyebrow, waiting.
Sighing, I pull my hand back from her ass and carefully peel off the thin wrapping from my wrist and hand.
The skin is still red and slightly raised, but the design is clear—a friendship bracelet tattoo with her name inked precisely where I always wear the one she made me four years ago.
Next to it, extending into the web between my thumb and index finger, is the North Star constellation, tiny dots connected by delicate lines.
Her breath catches. She traces her finger just above the irritated skin, not quite touching.
"Rams..." she whispers, and there's something in her voice that makes my chest tighten.
"The bracelet you made me is falling apart," I explain, feeling suddenly exposed. "I wanted something permanent."
She looks up at me, eyes shining. "And the constellation?"
"You're my north star," I say simply. "Always have been."
The words hang between us, heavy with everything I'm not saying. That she's the only thing that guides me, keeps me from becoming the monster I sometimes fear I am. That without her, I'd be fucking lost.
"Ramsey." She says my name like a prayer, then leans forward to press her lips gently against the tattoo.
My cock throbs in my jeans at the soft touch of her mouth on my skin. I thread my fingers through her hair, tugging her head back so I can see her face.
"I like seeing my name on you," she says, voice low. "Marking you as mine."
I like the way that sounds, how it sounds coming from her. The way her sweet voice claims me, better than any other high I’ve experienced before.
"Is that right?" I ask, tightening my grip in her hair. "You think you own me, baby girl?"
"I know I do," she says with a confidence that drives me fucking wild. "Just like you own me."