I guess I see Ranger as a darker soul, more as he is in the books. He isn't really an a, just a troubled soul. ( Anyone know a good therapist?)

Please leave feedback, as it helps me write better.

Acceptance-Part 2

Ranger's POV

Stephanie thinks I am asleep, but I see the tears in her eyes, the trembling of her hands as they stroke mine. Whenever she thinks I can't see, she allows the emotion to escape from her tightly held persona. I told her not to do it. I told her not to get emotionally involved with me. I told her all it was- all it was ever going to be- is sex. She said she's ok with that , but I can see the barely suppressed tears in her eyes, hear the quivering of her voice as she desperately tries to keep it steady. She tries not to let on that she is feeling, but it is obvious that she is. She tries to hide it, but it is written all over her face, it glistens in her eyes. She tries to pretend that she has accepted that we will never be anything but what we are. She tries to keep conversation light, tries to make jokes , tries to keep me at a distance that is much farther than I really am from her heart. I want to push her away, because the sadness and longing in her eyes makes me feel guilty for not giving her something that I can't. A few times now, I have pushed her away because I felt guilty because she loves me. I actually ended it , once for three months, whenever she expressed any feelings. It gets too intense for me.

The trouble is, I don't want her love. I don't want anyone's love. I don't have room in my life for love, or romance. She said she understood that, she said she would accept it. I told her I wanted sex, and I always give her amazing sex, so she should be satisfied. I am a good lover and I love to pleasure her with my tongue, sometimes for hours. I love feeling her writhe under me in the throes of orgasm. I love and worship the curve of her face, the shape of her breasts, and the hotness of her vagina as I slide inside it. I hate seeing the love shining in her eyes, so I try not to look at them. It makes me feel guilty for not loving her back. I can't love her back. Even if I wanted to, which I don't.

I can't give her my heart, because I am not sure that I still have one. I have suppressed it for so long, its like I never had one. Even before I entered the military, I was very stoic and kept my emotions in check. I knew how powerful they could be, how they could sweep me away if I left them. Emotions do you no good in war zones, where weaknesses can be fatal.

The only time I ever let myself feel was for a woman who left me while I was captive in Columbia. I loved her more than anything, she was what kept me going through the torture and pain. When I got back to the States and went to her arms, I found them around my best friend, whom she'd fucked two weeks after I was captured. Then, I lost my father, the one who had been my everything as a child. I thought the pain of those two events would kill me. They hurt worse than the pinchers they used to take off my fingernails in Columbia, more than the strap they would flay my flesh with, more than the scalding burns I received at the hands of guerillas. The pain of it almost stifled me. My emotions threatened to maim me the way no physical injury ever had.

Since I left the military, I have kept my life orderly. I am a powerful, strong , physical specimen. My life has continued in many ways, to be as regimented as the military. I still run every morning, lift for hours every day, and eat the same foods. I turned out to be an astute businessman in addition to being a badass, so I have quite a bit of money and security. My apartment is orderly and neat. Everything is right where it should be, in my closet, my bathroom, and my refrigerator. Even my sleek black cars are easily interchangeable. Life is easier when I am in control of my surroundings and my thoughts.

Stephanie is the absolute opposite of orderly. Her life is chaos, reckless abandon. How she has survived this long is beyond me. She has exploded many of my fancy cars, but I don't care about the cars. How can I let myself love someone I might lose so easily? Letting her into more of my life than my bedroom, would be disastrous.

I cannot let myself love her or anyone else.

I have a daughter, and I am not an asshole loser, so I make sure to do my duty to her as a father. I send support checks, birthday and Christmas presents, top notch security measures, and occasionally I make a half hearted visit to her in Florida. But I have deliberately kept a distance even from her. If I let myself love something as precious as a child, a part of me, it would probably be my undoing. So I have never built a relationship with my daughter, either. Loving a child. loving anyone is upredictable disorderly,it makes you vulnerable. I cannot allow myself to be vulnerable. Those who are vulnerable don't survive.

I hear Steph sniffle as she comes back from my bathroom. I know what she wants. Once she asked me how I felt about her. That freaked me out. I can't even think about letting myself love her. I will protect her, I will loan her an endless amount of cars, give her money, and give her pleasure. I cannot give her my heart. She wanted me to tell her that I love her or even that I care about her. I can never care about her. I told her that she is entertaining and amusement for me and my men. That hurt her. I could tell by the wounded look in her eye. I don't want to hurt her. I never want to hurt her. But she wouldn't be hurt if she didn't have feelings. So, its her fault for feeling. I never lied to her about what I wanted.

I have tried to share as much of myself as I could with Steph. In some ways, I have been more intimate with her than I ever have with a woman. But I cannot give her what she wants, and I know that hurts her. But it would hurt me more. And I am nothing if not a survivor.

Steph sits back on the bed and caresses my face. I feel guilty that I can't give her my love and I'm angry at her for wanting more than I can give her. She smiles and tries to hide the deep sadness in her eyes. I pull her gently under me and caress her face as I slide myself into her. My mouth can never say the words she wants to hear. My mouth can only give her one thing that she wants. It will have to be enough.