Chapter 25
Ranger
I meet Joker and Daniel at the gallery with Jorge and Elle the morning after the wedding. Elle’s nursing one hell of a hangover, wearing sunglasses as big as her head and paint splattered sweats. Jorge gives her the once over and rolls his eyes before pulling out a bottle of extra strength pain meds and handing her a couple with a bottle of water.
I mostly avoid Daniel all day, instead, following Elle around as she adjusts things in the outer studios and resets for regular opening. Joker asks her to go up to her studio after him and Daniel do their thing, and I slowly follow behind her, Jorge hot on my tail.
“What did you do to her?” he murmurs when we’re out of earshot.
“I didn’t do anything. She had a little too much fun at the wedding.”
“Nope. This is more than hangover Elle. What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t say a fucking thing.”
“Whatever you did, you need to fix it.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” I defend.
“Keep telling yourself that, but you know you did. That shoulder she’s giving you is damn near freezing. Bet if you think about it a little more, you’ll remember. You’re a smart guy.”
He passes me and hits the landing to the studio while I stare after him. I have no idea what I did, but I’ll be damned if I don’t figure it out.
The destruction of her studio hits me every time I walk into the room. All of her easels have been broken, all the paint poured out of cans or squeezed out of tubes all over the floor. The paint brushes are all laying in the puddles, the bristles cut clean from the handles. The canvases, painted and untouched, are all slashed beyond any chance of salvage. Even her pottery corner wasn’t left untouched. All of her clay is smashed to pieces on the floor around the kiln. It looks like whoever did this tried to break the thing, but that’s not happening.
And all of that destruction doesn’t worry me as much as the words written on the wall. Who thinks Elle’s life should have been theirs? And what will it take to get them to stop?
“We found some black hair.” Daniel is talking to Elle when I make my way to the center of the room. “Do you know anyone with black hair?”
“Well, I know you now,” she looks at the top of Daniel’s head, which is indeed almost midnight. “But, no. No one I can name offhand.”
“We’ll take it and run some tests on it. Hopefully, we get something from it.”
“And what if we don’t?” Elle asks, the lost look in her eyes again.
“You won’t be alone, Tink.” I step up to her, gripping her shoulders, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her soft skin. “Someone will always be there with you if I can’t be. And whoever is doing this will fuck up, and we’ll get them.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel better, Mr. Cross,” she quietly says, shuddering before going stiff beneath my fingers.
I share a look with Joker, shrugging my shoulder, but I don’t miss the quickness she removes herself from my touch and into Jorge’s arms. Jorge gives me a ‘told you’ look, and I have to admit, he might be right. Well, fuck that. I haven’t done anything to get the cold shoulder, and I don’t do well with miscommunication. I’ve read enough of Trish’s romance books to know that’s where the third act breakup happens and then the guy has to grovel for forgiveness before they live happily ever after, and that’s not going to happen here. A simple conversation would have solved almost every one of those breakups and I might be an asshole, but I don’t like not knowing why someone is pissed off at me.
Daniel and Joker stay behind with Jorge to call the local cops and I put Elle in my truck and drive her back to her townhouse. The plan is to head back to Boulder Canyon tomorrow, and a part of me wonders if Elle is going to change her mind and decide to stay here. I don’t force her to talk, and she doesn’t offer any words of wisdom, and by the time we make it to her garage, I’m on edge and itching to show her why she’s mine.
As soon as we’re through the door, Elle tries to escape. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Hold up a minute.”
“No, really, I just—”
“I asked you to hold up a damn minute. Can you do that for me, please?”
“Look, you don’t have to—”
“I don’t have to do shit, but I want to know what the fuck is going on in that gorgeous head of yours that you’ve decided I’m a pariah.”
She spins on me, her eyes shiny and her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know, Ranger. Why would I decide that? Maybe to protect myself.”
“From what?”
“From you!” she explodes. “You make me feel all the things, Jonathan. Things I don’t necessarily want to feel, but I can’t help it when you’re around. When you look at me. Touch me. But you feel nothing for me, and that’s fine. I’m not the person to talk you into doing anything you don’t want to do or feeling anything you don’t want to feel. But don’t expect me to just become a fucking emotionless robot!” She wipes under her eyes before throwing her head back and growling. “And damn these fucking tears. I’m not sad. I’m angry!”
As soon as she’s finished, the lightbulb goes off in my head. “Elle,” I try, but she shakes her head. “Elenore,” I try again, to no reply. “Tink. Look at me,” I demand. I wait until she finally makes eye contact. “You heard me tell Joker I felt nothing, but not who I felt nothing about,” I tell her in a softer tone.
“Wha—what do you mean?” she whispers.
“I mean, Joker was asking what I felt when he said Vanessa’s name. Not yours. I feel nothing when I hear her name now.”
I cup her face, my thumbs wiping the angry tears away.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I smile at her. “And the next question you have is what do I feel when I hear your name?” She slowly nods her head. “When I hear your name, my heart beats. That thing has been dead for so long, it still scares me sometimes. My palms twitch with wanting to touch you when we’re in the same room.” I lean closer, my lips on the edge of hers. “And when you look at me, I feel like I could climb a mountain. I feel like you’d be worth trying for again.”
“Jonathan,” she breathes against my lips. “Kiss me. Please?”
It’s not a declaration. It’s too soon for that. But it’s a request I’m more than happy to fulfill. “My pleasure.”
I do exactly as she requested and bring her lips to mine, pulling her to me and angling her head just where I want it. My blood boils with want. Her hands roam my arms, my back, squeezing my ass. I pull back and swing her up into my arms.
“What are you doing?” she squeals.
“You said you wanted a shower. I’m taking you to the shower.”
“What?” she laughs. “No, we don’t have to—”
“If my girl wants a shower, a shower she will get.”
“Your girl?” she asks, all laughter gone and a seriousness about her.
“Mine,” I growl into her ear. “You’ve been mine, and now you know it.”
“Yours.” She nods, a small smile tilting up the edges of her lips. “But we really don’t need to go to the shower.”
There she is, my Tink with the attitude.
“Oh, I disagree,” I tell her, sitting her on the sink and kissing her again. “I plan on getting very dirty with you, and a shower is just what we need.”
I watch as her eyes widen and dilate with desire. Want. Pure carnal need. Her gaze is firmly ogling me as I strip off my shirt.
“Like what you see, Tink?” I smirk at her.
“Very much.” She eyes me up and down. “Very, very much.”
“Your turn,” I whisper in her ear before sucking the lobe into my mouth, encouraged even more when her whole body shivers.
“Take my clothes off. Please.” It’s the please that gets me every time. I’d give her the world with just one word if I could.
I reach over and flip the shower on before moving between her legs, my hands running up and down her thighs. Over her hips. Up her sides, bringing her shirt with me, until I’m pulling it over her head.
“No bra?” I ask, and even I can hear the husky tone in my voice.
She smirks, her lips quirking up in a sly smile, and shakes her head.
“Well, when opportunity knocks.”
I lean forward, pulling one of her nipples into my mouth, hearing her gasp and moan, feeling her squirming beneath my touch. She runs her hands up and down my back, her fingers dipping into the waistband of my jeans, under my boxers.
“The room is steaming up,” she says before licking my neck.
“You have no idea, Tink.”
I pull her off the sink and undo her jeans, my hands cupping her ass as I remove the next barrier between heaven and myself. Dropping to my knees, I help her step out of them and then I lower her panties. Unable to resist, I lean forward, my nose at the apex of her thighs. Her scent is my kryptonite. I spread her legs enough to flick my tongue against her entrance and circle her clit. Just a taste.
“Jonathan,” she sighs, letting her weight fall against the sink.
I allow myself only a minute to lap up her taste, her flavor in my mouth. It’ll have to be enough for now. I need to be inside her.
“Shower,” I gruffly command. “Now.”
I shuck my own jeans and boxers before picking her up and wrapping her legs around my hips. Our lips crash together as I walk us under the water. Elle squeals when it hits her back, but I quickly turn her away from the spray and up against the wall, recapturing her lips. She slides down my body enough that my cock has found wonderland and is rubbing through her slit, getting coated in her arousal.
“Need you,” she pleads through desperate kisses. “Need you now.”
“Your wish, my pleasure.” I nip at her lips.
She grasps my cock at the base, adjusting her body to take me, sliding my head from her clit to her opening and back again.
“Tease,” I grumble, which earns me a melodic giggle from Elle.
“I promise to always follow through,” she replies, taking me inside her body.
Both of us groan with the pleasure. My hands immediately grip her ass, holding her up and helping her move. Up and down her body moves as her nipples rub against my chest. We aren’t going fast. Or being aggressive. That’s not what this is about. It’s about feeling each other. Paying attention to what each of us responds to, something we haven’t done before. Every previous encounter has been about getting the need out, not paying attention. This might be sex in a shower, but it’s so much more than just sex.
“Why do you feel so incredible?” I ask, burying my face in her neck and licking her skin.
“It’s just because it’s us,” she replies, gripping my hair and pulling my head back to kiss me again.
“How did I resist you for so long?”
“Did you really?” she laughs, which does something to her pussy, which does even more to my cock.
“I tried.” I smile. “I failed.”
“I’m glad.”
After that, there’re no more words, just the sounds of our lovemaking. Because that’s what it is. I might not have said the words yet, but I love this woman. Her attitude. Her zest for life. Her talent. Her ability to love.
Both of us lose control at the same time, Elle speeding up her motions with me thrusting from below. I reach between us and put my thumb on her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure with an adjustment to my stance and she goes off in my arms like a rocket.
“Jonathan!” she screams my name as her body seizes up, her inner walls squeezing the orgasm out of me, and I go over the edge with her.
“Elle,” I breathe into her neck, holding her tight against me as we both ride out the waves of pleasure.
I don’t know how long we stand in the shower before her legs unwrap from my hips and I stand her on her own two feet. Could be two minutes, could be twenty. But eventually, we wash off, each taking turns with the other’s body.
“I think we’re clean now,” she laughs, hiding her face from me.
“Why do you do that?” I ask, tipping her chin up to look at me. “Why do you hide your face when you laugh?”
Her cheeks go red, and she shakes her head.
“Tell me, Tink.”
“Barty told me when I laugh I look like a horse and it was ugly.”
“What a fucker. He was full of shit. You are beautiful when you laugh. The way your eyes crinkle and your mouth moves. Every time you laugh, it eases whatever bad mood I might be in. Never hide it from me. Please.”
She moves into my arms, wrapping her arms around me. “Thank you,” she quietly whispers into my chest.
I wonder when the freak out will happen. After years of avoiding all women and all emotions to keep from getting hurt, here I am standing in the shower of a woman who is completely out of my league, letting myself feel. And maybe her life hasn’t been as perfect as I first judged. Maybe, just maybe, we need each other.
I turn off the shower and step out, pulling two towels off the heated towel rack. Because of course she has one of those. I wrap the first one around her, giving her the sad eyes as I cover up her glorious tits, and the second one around my hips. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she has a bit of sad eyes herself when I cover myself. I then pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. I’d love to tell you we spend the rest of the night buried in each other but it’s not five minutes after I cover us that Elle is curled up in my arms, softly snoring.
And maybe that’s the biggest emotion. Being someone’s safe place.