29. Ransom
29
RANSOM
I can’t tell if I’m the luckiest guy around or the biggest idiot to follow Claire up to her room.
Both, maybe.
The second-floor hallway is a long stretch of wood-paneled walls with a red carpet that stretches out like a tongue.
Every floor feels haunted. I expect Mr. Preacher’s hollering to kick up any minute now. The quiet, somehow, is even worse.
Claire has showered. Changed. She’s standing on the other side of a huge four-poster bed. The moon is high, peeking through the trees in the window behind her. She’s got a soft glow on her from the lamplight as she threads a knot into the cream-colored robe that hangs around her form.
The robe clings to the perky lift of her tits. The slim curve of her hips.
A knot of want tightens around my throat.
Settle down, boy .
Just as I’m backing towards the door, without looking up from her robe, Claire states, “Where do you think you’re going?”
I fit myself in the entrance, leaning against the doorway. “I’m just…not sure if I should be here.”
Claire looks in the mirror. Her mouth dives into a tight frown. “Four men tried to kill me tonight. My fiancé may or may not be an assassin. As much as I’m loath to admit it, you’re the only one I trust right now. You’re not going anywhere.”
I can’t help it. A bitter chuckle climbs my throat. “You sound like your father.”
Her eyes sharpen. “What do you mean?”
“He used to say, ‘ Ransom, you’re the only one I trust. You’re too damn stupid to kill me .’”
“You’re not stupid,” she says plainly. “You’re earnest. To a fault. There’s a difference.”
She reaches to the back of her head, tying her hair back.
The sheer fabric lifts, and I can damn near almost see the outline of her small breasts.
“Can you handle sleeping in the same bed as me?” Her eyes swoop to my groin and then back to mine, and her voice takes on a condescending edge. “Or is that too much for you?”
A heat rises in me. I cross my arms. “I can handle it,” I tell her. Maybe too forcefully.
“Good. There’s a man’s robe in the bathroom. Help yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I go into the bathroom, closing the door. Their bathroom is bigger than my trailer. Big soaking tub, a tall shower, a row of mirrors and sinks. I kick up the shower and drop my clothes. My belt hits the tile hard, and mud on my shoes leaves smudge marks on the white floor .
I get in the shower. It’s like a damn sauna. The hot water pelts down on me, and for a second, I let myself get submerged in it.
But that’s dangerous because the second I get comfortable, all my dumb brain can do is think about Claire.
Claire, in bed. Waiting for me.
Needing me.
Wanting me .
She chose me. That thought alone is enough to make my cock swell up.
I’ve gotta settle down if I’m gonna be any sort of comfort for Claire tonight.
The temptation to stroke one out to relieve this building pressure is strong, and I curse myself for it. So I flick the water to cold, shiver under it until I’m less riled up, and then hop out and towel off. I find the robe—a matching beige, satin thing—and I toss it on, feeling a little silly in something so decadent.
When I get back in the bedroom, Claire is quiet. She’s lying on her side in bed, facing the window. I slip into the spot beside her, pulling up the blankets, which puff up like marshmallows.
“Shower’s nice,” I tell her.
“Mmhm.”
Silence creeps in.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She rolls onto her back. She looks up at me. She’s taken off her makeup and taken down her hair. Now, she just looks like—Claire. My Claire.
“I want to go to sleep,” she says plainly, “and wake up and find out that all of this was a strange, bizarre nightmare. And…why are you smiling?”
“Sorry. It’s nothing. Strange nightmares. ”
“No, you first. Tell me what’s funny?”
“It’s not funny. It’s just…this is the first time we’ve ever shared a bed together.”
Slowly, she blinks at me. A small smile touches her own lips. “I suppose it is.”
“Is it exactly how you imagined it?”
She reaches forward. Her fingers tickle down my bare chest, playing with the hair there. “No.”
I draw her hair underneath her ear.
“I wanna kiss you,” I tell her. I draw my hand down and press my fingers into the soft skin above her breast. “Right here.”
Her fingers curl in my hair. She nods. “Then do it.”
I tilt down and press my lips to her skin. I inhale her smell—buttery and vanilla. I want to lick every inch of her, but I refrain.
Instead, I touch her cheek. “And here.”
Those eyes flit over mine. “Yes.”
I nestle against the side of her face. I draw my lips over the softness of her cheek. Her small gasp patters against my ear.
I draw back just enough to bump my nose against hers. Our lips are so close now. The heat of her breath hits my mouth and makes my skin tingle.
“And here, most of all.”
Dark eyes meet mine. She leans in and brushes her lips against mine.
That’s all the permission I need to lose control.
I scoop the back of her head in my grip and close my mouth over hers. She exhales a muffled moan against my lips, her shaky breath pattering on my cheek. She parts her lips, and I dive in, my tongue sweeping along the heat of hers. Her fingers coil in my hair, tightening .
It’s happening. We’re here.
I’m kissing the woman I thought I’d never see again.
Her lips on mine feel like a gift from God, and I’m going to savor it.
Claire isn’t passive or submissive. Her lips push back. She slides her tongue over mine. She’s curious and bold, and I let her.
I want her to invade me.
I want to be hers.
We can’t get close enough. I hold the back of her head up from the pillow and kiss her as deep as I can. Her back arches. Her robe has come loose, exposing her breast, and I can feel her hard nipple graze my bare chest.
I wanna enjoy her. But it’s hard when her nails dig into the back of my neck. It’s hard when she peppers my mouth with tight, frantic kisses. It’s hard when she dances the tip of her tongue skillfully against mine. I grunt, and my hips pull forward.
She’s gripping me hard, and her kisses are coming too fast. She sucks, heatedly, at the sensitive skin of my throat, right under my jaw.
“You’re wild,” I tell her. I damn near don’t recognize my voice with all that roughness in it.
“So tame me.”
She rakes her claws down my chest, opening my robe. She finds my nipple and works the sensitive spot under her thumb as she pulls my earlobe between her teeth.
“Tie me down,” she pants in my ear. “Take me. Make the headboard rattle.”
“ Claire .”
My voice is tight. My head is spinning. My need is so swollen, so full, one more kiss might make me burst .
She’s breathless. Her lips are so close to mine I can feel each shudder.
“Make me scream your name,” she says. “Let him hear it.”
Him.
James. Everett.
Her fiancé.
Fiancé .
Downstairs. Listening.
Fuck. Fuck .
Reality hits me like a horseshoe to the head.
I peel away from her and get out of bed. I need distance. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to think.
“I can’t do this,” I say.
Claire sits up in bed. Her hair is a wild tangle. Her robe hangs off one shoulder, small breast exposed, pink nipple peaked. My ache tightens, and I pace.
“What are you saying?”
I shake my head. “This ain’t right. You don’t want me. You just want to punish him.”
Her mouth twists into a scowl. “Jesus Christ, of all times not to think with your dick, Ransom.”
I pull my fingers through my hair. “Trust me, both my dick and my heart are screaming at me right now.”
“What are they saying? Ransom, you’re an idiot ?”
I stop pacing at the foot of the bed. I wrap my hands around both posts and look Claire dead in the eyes. “They’re saying…when you love a woman that hard, you can do better by her.”
Claire stares at me. Her nostrils flare and then subside.
She whips herself out of bed, yanking her robe around her chest. “Go to hell. ”
My mouth tastes like metal. “Classic Claire. The second I open up, you shut down.”
“You don’t get to use those words with me.”
“What? I love you ? Well, I do! I loved you back then, and I love you just as hard now. Trust me, I tried to get you out of my system. I tried it on every goddamn woman in Belleflower. But no one could hold a lick of a candle to you.”
She gets in my face and snaps, “Then why is it that every time you say I love you , it sounds like I win ?”
“Claire?”
“ What ?”
Her eyes are blazing, her cheeks flushed with pink fire.
I tell her, “You win.”
This time, when she kisses me, she’s all mine.
He may have her heart. Her ring finger. The last few years of her life.
But, goddammit, I’ve always had her anger.
I yank the tie on her robe. It hisses as it comes free. I pull her in my arms and we both fall to our knees, and then I push her down so her back hits the floor. Her breath catches, splayed out on the rug underneath me, her eyes wide and wanting.
I wrap the tie around my fist. “You want me, princess?”
Her thighs part. “Yes.”
I get low, my knees around her hips. I take her hand. With my gaze on hers, I suck her ring finger into my mouth. Her diamond catches around my teeth, and I slide it free from her hand.
I spit it out. The metal hits the carpet.
“Then show me your hands.”
She knows what I want. She puts both her wrists together, holding them up for me. I take the tie from her robe and wrap it around, crossing the satin, binding her in a tight, clean knot.
Her tied wrists fall back above her head. I stand up over her. I drop my robe. Claire’s eyes drop to my briefs. There’s a dark patch where I’ve leaked, and she wets her lips. “What a mess you’ve made already,” she says, goading.
I kick her legs apart. She gasps. Her bare, pink cunt is swollen, and it glistens for me.
“Pot calling the kettle wet,” I tell her.
Her cheeks go red, but her thighs part a little wider.
I snap my briefs off my legs. I relieve the tight ache in my groin by wrapping my hand around my erection and giving it a squeeze.
Claire would never beg for me. But she doesn’t have to.
Her body does all the begging.
She bites her lip. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard.
“This is what you want?” I ask. I stroke it. Slowly.
Her mouth parts. “Yes.”
I lower myself to meet her body. Her hips arch. I drive my cock into Claire. She chokes on a gasp, and when her eyes meet mine, there’s a flash of surprise in them.
I know: she’s remembering.
She remembers now what it’s like to be claimed by Riley Ransom.
She remembers how much she loved it.
How much she loves it.
Engulfed in her tight heat, I’m already up against my edge, but I’m going to hold on to this feeling as long as I can.
She’s going to remember how good it feels to be in love with me.
“Look at me,” I tell her.
Her bright eyes lock on mine as I hook her knee in the crook of my arm and push in all the way so our hips kiss .
Her gasp is shuddery.
Those pretty little hands turn into fists, splay open, and fist again. Wanting to touch, clenching nothing but air.
Those eyes close. That’s when I see it. A wet streak slides down from the edge of her eye to her ear.
“Bear? You with me?”
“Don’t stop,” she begs. “Fill me. I want to feel it inside.”
I slip my hand into her bound fingers. She grips me back, entwining her fingers with mine.
Something switches in me.
Our palms together, I feel the energy of her. We connect, entwining together. Body and soul. “I’m here,” I tell her. “I’m right here.” I kiss her. I taste the heat of her. The warmth of her. Those soft, small whimpers.
I pull our bodies together. Riding her. Driving deep. Over and over, until she’s trembling. She breaks our kiss to throw her head back and gives the smallest, tiniest whine as her body clenches around me…
Pleasure floods through me and into her. I moan and I fill her, torrents of want. Her hips roll upward, encouraging, riding every wave of it until I’ve got nothing left.
There’s nothing of me that’s not hers.
We collapse together on the floor. We pant, catching our breath.
“Claire?” I say after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“We were so close to finally fucking in a bed.”
She laughs, a small sound.
I tilt her chin toward mine. Her lips are soft now, delicate as glass when I kiss them. I kiss her mouth and each of her eyes, tasting the salt of her tears.
“Don’t pull out,” she says. “Not yet.”
“Okay,” I say, thinking, I’d stay here forever if she just asked.