A/N: Your reviews are music to my ears, thank you so very very much! Also this story is fully written, will post daily or every other day.
PREVIOUSLY:
"You'll owe me," he said softly, silkily.
She closed her eyes, gathered her strength, then opened them to tell him to go to hell, but he shifted again, that thigh moving between hers, rubbing against her, and all that came out was a whimper.
Chapter Three
Ranger waited for Steph's answer with a hard-earned patience. He still had a tracker in her purse and another on her current piece of shit car, and Hal had alerted him to the fact that she'd left town.
As was protocol.
Curiosity had driven him out here to Point Pleasant.
Now Steph stood before him like a tempting, forbidden treat with her long wild curls playing peek-a-boo with her torso and shoulders, her clear blue eyes full of the wanting neither of seemed to be able to admit to, and then there was her mouth. God, that mouth, with the full, pouty lips that could give a grown man a wet dream, damp from her own nervous tongue.
His first response had been a resounding fuck, yeah.
But then they gotten to the part of her story where she'd been manhandled into this vulnerable position, which had both terrified and infuriated him because one day she was going to get herself killed.
Which would take his only light, the very heart of him, away forever. His heart clenched good and hard over that. He didn't want to change her, but he wanted her to care about her own safety as much as he did. He wanted to be able to trust her with herself. Annoyed by the both of them, he pulled a universal handcuff key from his pocket and released her. As she shook her arms, probably to bring feeling back into them, he took her wrists in his hands and rubbed gently, watching her face.
"I'm okay," she said softly. "And thanks."
They were standing toe to toe. She could have told him to go to hell. She could have backed away, skirted around him, and walked out of the bathroom.
She didn't do any of that. Instead, she remained exactly where she was. She did squirm a little, clearly unnerved about his silence. She had reason to be unnerved because his pulse was still racing from her near miss.
And her closeness.
He's missed her. Suddenly no longer willing to be the aggressor in their twisted little dance, instead wanting her to come to him for once, he shifted back an inch. If she wanted him, she was going to have to make the move this time.
She was playing with the edge of her towel, possibly trying to tighten it, and he couldn't blame her, but her movements had things shimmying and shaking, mostly her glorious breasts. She had tan lines, which dissolved his bones right then and there.
"Are you going to say anything?" she asked.
"I believed I asked you a question."
She bit her lower lip.
"All you have to do is answer," he reminded her.
"Fine," she snapped. "I don't want y—" As before, the words apparently caught on her tongue and she closed her eyes.
He realized he'd been holding his breath, but something surged through him now. It felt like triumph, but also a bone quivering relief.
She still wanted him. He wasn't sure when that had become a question for him but now he knew. He didn't know whether to kiss them both stupid or demand to know why she couldn't tell him how she felt. "Finish it, one way or another," he said.
She drew a deep breath. "I . . ."
Looking into her huge baby blues took his mind off the body he wanted to drop to his knees and worship, but it didn't matter. Her dazzling, lush curves had imprinted itself on his brain years ago. Had he thought he was merely exacting a little revenge by playing with her? Like hell. More like sinking his own ship here. Please don't sink into Denial Lane, babe, not this time.
"Okay, but you'd better listen," she warned him. "Because I'm only going to say this once." She stared at a spot just over his shoulder. "I. Don't. Want. You. Anymore." She shot him a shaky smile. "There."
"Uh huh." She was gorgeous and smart and funny, and everything he'd once upon a time wanted, but she was a horrible liar. And she was lying, he had no doubt, a particularly fascinating fact.
Also fascinating, against him her body was screaming the opposite. Her heart raced, her nipples bore two hard points through the towel and into his chest, and her skin radiated a heat that had nothing to do with the warm evening. It caused a surge of excitement through his own body that he hadn't felt since . . . since he'd last been with her.
"I said it," she whispered into his silence, lifting her head slowly, which had her out of control hair tickling his chin and throat, in agonizing little butterfly kisses. Her nose just barely glanced along his throat, and all of it combined, slamming home memories of the times they'd spent together.
He shook his head. "Cheating doesn't count."
"Prove I'm cheating," she said. Her eyes were still wide, dilated nearly black. Her breathing was shallow, and he knew damn well that wasn't fear. She wanted proof? No problem. He slid his fingers along her jaw until they sank into her hair.
Her eyes drifted shut again, slowly. She'd always loved when he'd played with her hair. "Don't," she whispered.
"You can't catch your breath." He dipped his mouth to the spot beneath her ear which he knew was incredibly sensitive to his touch.
She shivered and the towel dropped.
Neither of them caught it.
Now he was the one cheating and he didn't care. He danced his other hand down her free arm, then squeezed her hip before skimming up along her ribs. He spread his fingers wide, so they rested just beneath her breast as he let his gaze once fall over her, his entire body clenched hard and throbbing. "God, Steph."
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, and he wanted to do the same. He wanted to gobble her up whole. "You're trembling." He glided his thumb along her highest rib, just barely brushing the curve of her breast. "Tell me you want this."
She nodded.
"I need to hear the words, babe."
She had her face planted against his throat like she was trying to inhale him. "I want this," she murmured in that same shuddery voice that told him she was having as much trouble controlling herself as he was.
Finally. "I want you, too." Always have, always will. His knees nearly buckled at the realization. His thumb slid over her nipple, catching on the very tip.
And both of them quit breathing.
Steph's head fell back and thunked against the wall. He leaned in, mouth open, to nibble at her throat, affection and heat making it impossible to speak.
"Ranger." She was trying to get his clothes off. "Now. Please, now."
"I'd do just about anything for you. Except that." He glided his fingers down her belly, her muscles quivering at his touch.
"Ranger," she choked out as he stroked a finger over her mound, then into her pedal-soft folds.
Letting out a half whimper, half sob, her free hand fisted in his shirt she'd gotten half off him. Definitely not a sound of distress, he noted, but of arousal, and he groaned as he sank into that creamy heat.
Her eyes went opaque. Her fingers dug further into his chest, pulling out more than a few hairs which made him wince but he kept up the torment.
"Stop," she gasped. "I'm going to go off like a rocket."
Yeah. And he wanted to see it, feel it. Cause it. Wanted to remind her exactly what she was missing out on. He really try not to do anything stupid, but when it came to Steph, his brain played second fiddle to his dick. He kept stroking her.
"Ranger." A few more chest hairs were lost. "Stop."
Damn. The only word he hadn't wanted to hear but wouldn't ignore. He dropped his hands from her.
She dropped her head to his head and gulped for air, the only sound in the room being their combined heavy breathing.
"I told you," she finally said, head still down on his chest. "I told you want you wanted to hear. Now you need to go."
He didn't want to, but there was something in her voice, and he was deathly afraid it was tears. "Okay," he said quietly and stroked a hand over her long wild hair. She was trembling, and his heart wrenched. "Okay," he murmured again softly. "I'll go." The truth was, he'd do whatever she needed, even if it meant ignoring their relationship.
And yeah, they had a relationship. They'd always had a relationship. He'd been waiting for her to see that as well. But he wasn't sure that would ever happen.