Chapter 6
Ranger
Soft kisses across my shoulders wake me, and I open my eyes. A warm hand glides across my back, and a familiar voice says, “Good morning. You got home late.”
I smile and turn onto my back. Denver straddles me, grinning.
It’s been three days since the ceremony, since I almost lost her, and she seems to be getting better.
She took my advice and turned off her phone, letting me deal with any emergencies, and has spent these last few days trying to relax.
She’s been antsy, staring at her dark phone screen, chewing her lip, peppering me with questions when I deal with an issue at her clubs or coffee shops.
Remarkably, I haven’t had to do much. Denver’s businesses work almost seamlessly without her, with provisions and people in place who could step in on short notice, knowing exactly what they need to do.
She runs a tight fucking ship, and although that makes me proud of her, it also makes this decision easier.
She isn’t needed by them, but she is needed by me.
I brush her hair back, and she smiles but avoids my eye as she leans down for a kiss. “What’s wrong?”
She freezes. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” I cup the back of her neck gently. “Tell me.”
She sighs, shifting on top of me. “You know Colt called?”
I resist lifting my lip. “Yes.”
“He mentioned some land that could be good for another casino. It’s been on my mind.”
“You’re taking tips from Colt Harland now?”
She sighs. “No, but it’s made me think that I shouldn’t just give up.”
Not happening.
I’ve had a few days of the old Denver back, and she can’t slip into these habits already.
I grip her hips gently, making small circles on her skin.
“We agreed less work, didn’t we?” She nods quietly, once again avoiding my eye.
“Denver, you need this break. You need to take time. You went through something fucking traumatizing.”
“I’m okay.”
“Land can wait. Casinos can wait. They’ll always be there.”
“But if the McEwans sell—”
I drop my hands, my concern for her twisting into a heated snake in my chest. It curls around my heart as it desperately tries to beat.
I’ve avoided the McEwans my entire life.
Finn McEwan has been the head of that family for decades, and his brother, Rory, is—was—my father.
I was the result of Rory’s affair with my mom, and I knew from a young age that my dad wasn’t a good man—it was fairly fucking obvious by how he treated us.
While Rory was playing the doting father to his other kids Ronan and Danielle, I was forgotten and so was my mother.
We had nothing. The McEwans had everything.
There were days we didn’t eat. Months we couldn’t pay rent. Life was fucking hell.
When my dad died, Finn tried to worm his way into my life, but I knew by then that all McEwans had an agenda.
So even when my mom passed shortly after, I didn’t go to them for help.
I was sixteen and had a newborn to feed and a girlfriend I didn’t like, but I vowed never to ask a McEwan for a fucking thing.
There’s also their vested interest in Denver, and that’s a Pandora’s box I refuse to open again.
I wrap my arm around her waist and move her onto the bed so I can stand. My blood feels hot. Uncomfortable.
“You’re not going near the McEwans.” I stride to the en suite, aggressively brushing my teeth as she sits in silence and no doubt tries to work out a way to manipulate me into this decision.
I rinse my mouth out and wait, and sure enough, she appears in the doorway.
“Don’t fucking ask me again, Denver. I said no,” I rage, facing her.
“I do not trust Finn McEwan. Not after what he did to me, to my mother—”
She holds her hands up. “Okay, okay. I understand—”
“No, you fucking don’t!” I boom and she falls quiet.
“You have no idea what it’s like to not eat for days, knowing the rest of that family was living the life of luxury.
To live in a damp, mold-filled apartment, coughing your fucking lungs up, while your half-siblings were on vacation.
We were forgotten, Denver. Left to fucking rot.
So no, you do not get it, you will never get it, and I forbid you to associate with that fucking family! ”
Silence falls. A heavy shroud of it. My throat burns from raising my voice, and something feels dislodged in my chest. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten so close to her, that her back is against the doorframe, her eyes wide. I’m gripping her wrist, but I don’t remember taking it.
Denver glances to where I’m holding her, then back at my face. “You’re right.”
“Yes, I’m fucking right,” I say, and back away from her. My skin is hot, my breathing unsteady, and I look at my shaking hands. “I’m right.”
“You are.” Denver wraps her arms around me, pressing her cheek to my chest. “I’m sorry.”
I envelop her in a hug, crushing her to me, focusing on everything I love about being this close to her. The smell of her shampoo. The warmth of her body. The way she fits into me.
The way she always has.
“I love you,” she whispers. “I won’t bring it up again.”
It’s only when I close my eyes that I feel the tears clinging to my lashes and pray to God she didn’t see them.
The McEwans can’t have her. They can’t. She’s mine. Not Nico’s. Not Wyatt’s or Ethan’s.
Mine.
I pull back and kiss her. I kiss her because I need to feel something other than what I’m feeling right now, and she kisses me back. As I pull off her T-shirt, she stops me.
“Are you sure you want to do this now?”
“Yes.” I kiss her again, and she leans into it and doesn’t object as I strip her. “Get in the shower. I want to watch you.” She searches my face, brow furrowed, and I fucking hate it. I don’t need her pity, or her concern. I’m the one with the strength, not her. “Now.”
She steps away and switches on the shower, the partition that runs down one side of the bathroom steaming quickly.
I watch with hungry eyes as she moves under the stream of water, her hair darkening to a blood red as it soaks through.
She tips her head back, water spilling over her ass and legs, her eyes closed as she lets the spray warm her.
She’s always been incredible. Smooth skin and soft curves, long legs that I’d be happy to die between. She’s beautiful. So beautiful it makes my heart ache. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve fought for, and I’ve pulled myself apart for years needing nothing but this.
I slide my arms around her waist, pulling her back to my chest, and she angles her head so I can kiss her. It’s soft, slow, and a kernel of warmth glows in my chest that she’s here. It calms me. Centers me.
I’m okay because she’s here.
She’s not going anywhere.
“Tell me I’m safe,” she whispers, and the stab of guilt only worsens the pain of my past. She’s been through hell, and I’m adding to it. She angles her head to search my face, her eyes wide and unsure. “Tell me you’re in control and I’m safe with you.”
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers, relishing the pain as it ebbs away in favor of caring for her. “You always get the final say, my love. The moment you feel anything other than safe, we stop.”
She nods and turns in my arms, breasts pushing against my abs, and she chews her plump bottom lip. “Where do you want me?”
“Let me take care of you.”
“No.” She shakes her head, a small, almost unperceivable action. “I trust you.”
She does trust me. She trusts me with everything, despite the things I’ve lied about. The things she knows I’ve done are unforgiveable, but here she is, standing in front of me, trusting herself with me.
If she ever discovered what I’ve hidden …
“Ranger,” she whispers, and I shove the thoughts away. “Don’t be gentle with me. I’m fine.”
I don’t think either of us is fine. We’re far past it.
But talking about it would destroy the fragments we have left.
I stroke my hardening cock. “On your knees.”
She obeys, and I close my eyes as she slides her tongue along my length, my thoughts fading into the background as she wraps her lips around me and takes me deep.
The warm tightness of her throat eases my taut muscles, and the reasons not to do this ebb away as I open my eyes and admire her choking around me.
“You can take more,” I tell her.
She breathes slow and deep and swallows my cock, her eyes watering, one hand pressed into my thigh, the other gripping the base of my dick and squeezing.
“More,” I demand, my voice rough against the falling shower water, and her eyes widen as she feeds me deeper, her throat quivering around me.
“Good fucking girl. That’s perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.
” Her eyes glisten at the praise as I slowly fuck her throat, her eyes never leaving mine as I pick up my pace.
She takes me perfectly, her fingers sliding between her legs to tease herself as I fuck myself in and out of her mouth, one hand gripping her hair, the other stroking her jaw. But I need more. “Up.”
She pulls her mouth from around me, a string of cum and spit connecting her lips to my dick. She stands and I turn her, pressing her hands against the shower wall as I kick her feet apart.
“Be rough,” she says, and my hand snakes around her neck. A small gasp escapes her lips as I pull her back against me.
“Who’s in control, Denver?”
“You,” she breathes.
“Then why are you telling me how to fuck you?”
She swallows, her throat shaking against my palm. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you are,” I whisper against her, my other hand drifting down. I pinch her clit, and she cries out. “Are you sorry?”
“Y-yes,”
“What for?”
“For telling you how to fuck me.” I pinch her again and her head lolls back, and she grinds against my hand. “Please, Ranger—”
“Give me another instruction, Denver, and I’ll tear you in fucking half,” I growl against her ear, squeezing her throat until her lips part.