Hate That I Love You
She sat up in bed, watching as he tugged his black pajama bottoms on. She didn't want him to leave her. She never did. One would think she'd stop watching as he dressed himself so it wouldn't hurt her as badly.
But he had to leave. If they were ever discovered…Ronny wasn't sure what the consequences would be, but she knew it wouldn't be pretty.
"I'll see you in the morning," Will told her quietly, brushing his hand across her face, cupping it for a brief moment. Ronny subconsciously bit her bottom lip; his touch always left her with goose bumps. She wished he would at least kiss her good night, but that wasn't his way. She would be content…for now.
When he had gone, Ronny buried her face in her pillow, thinking hard. This whole thing was so damn confusing; she hated it.
It had started about four months ago, after the yellow and black rangers had gotten into a stupid, pointless argument. She didn't even recall what the fight had been about, it was that unimportant. What was important was that Ronny, while Will was yelling, had suddenly covered his lips with hers…and was surprised when Will responded just as intensely.
Their relationship had never been the same again. How could it have been, when they'd somehow ended up in her bed with all their clothes off?
Ronny had always treasured her independence. She liked being able to do what she wanted when she wanted. She liked her life in the fast lane.
She never expected to fall in love with the handsome black ranger. It had just happened.
But he didn't love her. Not the way that she loved him. And it broke Ronny's heart, loving him so much and knowing that all Will really wanted was sex. All guys ever wanted was sex.
At first she tried to resist it. After that first time with Will, Ronny had tried to ignore him. She had tried to pretend she didn't want him, that she never wanted what had happened to happen again. This tactic worked for all of five seconds, and they'd ended up sleeping together again.
She was always careful though. Always. Being a ranger had taught her that. The hard part was when he left. Sometimes it hurt so much that she cried, something she hadn't done since she was four. Why couldn't he just love her like she loved him? Was it really too much to ask, to be loved?
Why did she always let him hurt her?