Freed (10 page)

“I just bet you do,” he bites out playfully, dragging me to the end of the bed by my ankles. “I have homework to do, you little walking temptation. I’m going jump in the shower first. Meet me in the living room?”

I can only nod since his lips are firmly pressed against mine. He grabs some shorts and leaves me sitting breathless on his bed. I throw myself back for a minute and focus on breathing.
That man.
I can’t believe he made me orgasm just by playing with my breasts. That’s incredible. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I laugh at myself before sitting up and throwing my clothes back on. I wonder if I should stay. My homework is all caught up, but I could catch up on some pleasure reading while he works, I guess.

I hear his shower cut off, so I quickly make my way to the kitchen to put on a pot a coffee, since I know that’s his evening routine. He’s such an old man in some aspects, but then completely innovative in other ways. I wonder again who Karen is. I’m scared to know the answer though. Austin and Pete had only mentioned a Victoria before, but that doesn’t really mean anything. I frown at the coffee pot as though its slow perking is the reason my idle brain drifts to troubling concepts. I busy myself, opening the cabinet to grab a couple of mugs.

“You’re staying?” I jump a little at the question, completely lost in my own head.

“If that’s all right?” I ask, without turning.

His hands fit over my hips, and he kisses the top of my head before reaching over me to grab the cups. “I’d like that,” he replies quietly.

After filling two cups, we make our way into the living room. Ransom sets his coffee on the end table and grabs his laptop before situating himself on the couch. I take out the notes from my history class and debate over whether I should run through them one more time or read my romance novel. After a minute, my hot little book wins out. The cover of this one isn’t so bad, so I should be able to escape unnoticed while reading it.

Grabbing my coffee, I walk back toward the couch. I decide not to be a distraction, because if it’s one thing I’ve learned about Ransom, he takes his studies seriously. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise from my intense cowboy. Setting my cup beside his, I lower myself to sit on the floor between his legs.

Chapter Eight

Ransom

M
Y FINGERTIPS HOVER
over the keyboard for a few minutes, waiting for her to say something or move or … something. But nothing. She cracks her book open and begins reading without a care in the world, sitting Indian-style at my feet.

I try to speak, but I have no words. Does she even get what that little action says about us? Probably not, which makes it all the more intriguing. She’s just naturally that way with me, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I clear my throat. “Comfortable?” I finally ask.

“Yeah,” she tosses over her shoulder. “You good?”

“Yep, all good. I thought you liked to read from your e-reader.”

“I do, but sometimes there’s just nothing like the feel and smell of the real thing.”

I grin. “Smell?”

“Yep,” she says without elaborating.

I get back to work for a while. The sounds of her flipping pages, me typing, and us stealing sips of coffee are the only things that fill the air. When she leans her head against my knee, shifts, and curls her legs around mine, all activity in the northern region of my body comes to a slamming halt. She must sense something, or the absence of something, because she tilts her head back and examines me for a minute.

“My mom’s sick,” I blurt out. Her face falls, and I feel like a moron. I didn’t mean to tell her that way. This afternoon’s activities, and our comfortable silence, have lulled me into a peaceful place—one where I can finally talk to her about things I wouldn’t with many others. “Umm … she has cancer, and for a while there, it wasn’t looking good.”

Denver rises and places her book on the table before moving my laptop over to the couch. She comes to rest on my lap, her legs on the couch. Wrapping her arms around me, she squeezes me before finding me again with her eyes. “Ransom, I’m so sorry. You said
wasn’t
looking good. Is she better now?”

“Well, she’s stronger and things are looking good, but she’s still got a ways to go. I wanted to tell you sooner, but with everything going on, it just didn’t feel right.”

“You mean, you let my problems take center stage,” she admonishes with a shake of her head. “I didn’t want to push, but I figured things were rocky with both of your parents from the few things you said. Ransom, you have to know that you can talk to me. Anytime. Don’t let my stupid bullshit get in the way of what you need.”

My laugh is strained. “Stupid bullshit? I think it’s a little more than that. You deserved to have my full attention.”

Her eyes instantly mist over. “Thank you for that, but it has to be a two-way street. I want to be here for you too. Tell me something about your mom.”

“Ah … Karen Ransom … where do I start?” She grins big.

“What?” I ask, mirroring her grin.

“Your tattoo. It’s for your mom not some … ”

“Girl?” I finish, and she bites her lip. “You could’ve asked. Would it have mattered?” If she feels possessive over me, that’s real progress. Despite the fact that she used Greer for sex, she’s never really taken anything for herself. The thought that she wants me all for her own, spreads throughout my limbs like a drug-induced euphoria.

“Yes, I’m thrilled the irises are for your mom and not some other girl who’d stolen into your heart and may still have a hold on you.” She blows out a breath. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

I waggle my eyebrows at her. “Were you jealous, Denver?”

Her hands tighten on my biceps. “Undeniably.”

“I like you all territorial. But I can assure you, there’s no one to be jealous over.”

“All right. My ego has been stroked. So, tell me about your mom.”

“Well, I got the irises the day after we got her diagnosis. I came home all taped up, and she was rantin’ and ravin’ about me tattooing my pretty skin. Besides my father, it’s the only thing we’ve ever really fought about. But I told her I thought she’d like this one. ‘Oh, no. Your charms won’t work on me, Johnny. I won’t like it. I can assure you,’ she promised me. I whipped off the bandage and told her they were her
forever
irises. No matter the weather, they would always be there, as would I. I told her all of my tattoos were important, but this one was the most important of all.” I laugh as I recall her guarded expression. “‘Well, I just feel sorry for your future wife is all,’ she said, unimpressed. I asked her if that’s because the poor thing would be stuck looking at my body art forever.”

I pause, thinking how this is really a story more about me than her. Denver’s eyes glow with interest. “What did she say?” she prompts, almost giddy.

“She shook her head and said, ‘No woman stands a chance against your charming self.’ And that if I can convince her, the woman who’s hated all my tattoos to date, but now sees them in a new light, I could charm anyone into anything.”

Denver runs her hands over my sleeves and follows one of the scrolls with her fingertip. “What did she mean by new light?”

I release a deep breath and scrunch up my forehead. It’s something I’ve been trying to figure out for a while. “I think she finally understood that I wouldn’t mark my body with something that didn’t mean a great deal to me. Not to mention that once something is meaningful to me—it matters forever. Like she finally got it, and once she did, she respected me even more.”

She traces the number eight on my forearm before bringing it to her lips briefly. “That’s beautiful. And for the record, I think your tattoos are beautiful too. They’re a part of who you are.” Her eyes twinkle when she looks back to me. “And you can trust me to tell the truth because I’ve never been much for tattoos either.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to describe a man’s tattoos as beautiful, Denver,” I joke, hoping to bring a moment of levity to our conversation.

“And your scars,” she whispers, kissing the healed gash on my chin. “I think your scars are beautiful too. All of that has worked to make you who you are, which is one beautiful man.” Weaving my fingers through her hair, I bring her mouth down to crash on mine. Her surprised gasp works in my favor, as it has her opening up to me immediately, and I waste no time in taking advantage of that. My teeth clash against hers for a moment because I feel like I can’t get deep enough. I feel a surge in her as she gives in and opens fully, letting me devour her. When I pull back, she releases a breath that I work hard to take into me. I want all of her. Every breath. Every tremble. Every sweet word.

Long, quiet moments pass between us, where it seems like we communicate more to each other than if words had been spoken. I run my hand over her hair, and she runs her hand over my skin, exploring it and learning it.

“Your mom sounds wonderful. Loving and forgiving. I love how close the two of you are. How you wanted to give her a piece of your forever, however you could. The fact that you’d want to do that for her speaks volumes about the kind of person she is.” She releases a shaky breath.

“She’s gonna love you,” I reply, because somehow I know that’s eating at her. Like she can’t be loved, and that my mom not loving her would sway the way I feel about her. But I know my mom better than that. And my mom knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t waste my feelings on someone who didn’t deserve them.

Denver tenses in my arms but doesn’t respond to that declaration. “I should let you get back to work, and I should get back to my book. I probably won’t have time to read it for another week after today.” I glance over her shoulder and grab the book, spinning it around to read the cover. “
The Magnificent Rogue
,” I read, and she gasps.

“Hey! Give it here.” She twists trying to take it, but I hold her down easily.

“Is this what I think it is? A romance novel?” I flip it open with my thumb, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head. “‘His quivering member’? Seriously? And you give me shit about my movies?” I can barely breathe between my laughter and her palms striking my chest as she tries to dislodge herself from my lap. I toss the book on the couch and hug her tight.

“A badass barrel racer with a secret penchant for romance novels? Who knew?” I continue in my torment of her.

“Yeah, she’s only outdone by her badass bull rider with a not-so secret obsession with romantic comedies.”

I pull back swiftly. “What do you mean ‘not-so secret’? No one knows but a select few.”

“Not anymore. It’s on the Fun Facts about Your Favorite Rodeoers on our Facebook page. You didn’t tell them?”

“Fucking Austin. I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“I guess that’s better than him telling everyone you’re a kinky bastard,” she jokes.

I don’t bother to deny the accusation, but I do find it funny that she’s calling me that already. She has no idea how deep my kink runs. “Austin doesn’t know about that.”

Her brow furrows. “I thought you said two people knew. I just assumed you meant Pete and Austin.”

I laugh at her expression. “Yeah, Pete is one and the other is definitely not Austin. ‘Cause you could sure as shit believe it would’ve been listed on the page, and he would make constant innuendoes about it too. I’d never hear the end of that shit.”

She narrows her eyes at me, and I see mischief playing there. “Wanna get him back without getting physical?” I nod. “Ever heard of an apadravya?”

Chapter Nine

Denver

“
A
RE YOU DRESSED?”
Ransom’s voice thick with need seems to stretch across the few blocks from his apartment to my dorm.

“Umm … ” I glance down at the short shorts and cami that I usually sleep in. “No, it’s not even light out. I still have my pajamas on.”

“What are you sleeping in?” If possible, his voice gets even heavier.

After I tell him what I’m wearing, he mumbles
red
with a grin in his voice and asks, “Think you can throw something over that and come down real quick?”

“Uh … yeah. Be right down,” I croak. I disconnect, hop up, throw on my long coat, and slide my boots on, all the while wondering what he’s up to. I make a stop in front of the bathroom mirror and brush my teeth quickly.

When I exit my building, I spot him immediately across the parking lot, leaning against the back of his truck and looking relaxed. His only tell are those luminous eyes, burning with desire. Tightening my coat around me, I cross the short distance to him. “Hi,” I breathe.

He doesn’t utter a word, just pulls me to him and kisses me desperately. I cling to the flaps of his corduroy jacket. His fresh scent and spicy-flavored kiss make quick work of my senses, and I’m rubbing myself against him. A low moan escapes me as he tilts his head and grasps my hips tight. The need to breathe overwhelms me, so I pull back a little and place little kisses on his open mouth, pulling in much-needed oxygen.

“Mornin,’” he whispers against my lips. The corners of his mouth kick up into a lazy, heart-stopping grin. He pulls my head to his chest and runs his hands over my back in a sweet movement, making me feel treasured. I hold on tightly to his shoulders to keep my balance.

“Why, yes, it is.” Now that I’ve had my fill of him, I’m able to take in the majestic morning. The bluish-gray sky directly contrasts the gleaming white puffs of white clouds, and my favorite—the mountaintops. The tips kissed orange with the promise of the rising sun never fail to bring tears to my eyes. We haven’t had a good snow in a few days, but the colder air has kept the snow frozen in the crevices of the mountain, giving it the appearance of little rivers running down them.

Ransom nuzzles against my neck, his breath warming me all over. “I wasn’t gonna be able to see you until tomorrow,” he whispers against my ear. “I couldn’t stand it.” I squeeze my eyes tight with his confession. I’d felt the same way, but since I’d made my move last night, I hadn’t wanted to seem desperate.