Page 21 of Ripper's Redemption

Her kindness is disarming, leaving me vulnerable in a way I'm not used to. “It’s not a big deal. I wasn’t about to take your father’s shit.”

“You’re really selling the whole worrying/caring about me thing. Like someone who stands up for what’s right,” she answers simply, applying a bandage to the cut.

This might be a ruse, but I do give a shit if she’s getting walked on.

Hell, and I’m not about to stand here and let someone do that to her.

“Maybe,” I concede, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through my chest.

It’s been a long time since anyone saw past the rough exterior I’ve used as a shield.

“Hold still,” she murmurs, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead.

Her fingers linger for a second longer than necessary, and I can’t help but lean into her touch.

“All done,” she announces, standing up and wringing her hands nervously.

“Thank you, Tara,” I say, my voice husky with gratitude. “But you really didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Anytime,” she replies, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just...try not to get punched next time, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises,” I joke, but the sincerity in my tone betrays how much her caring means to me.

“Figures,” Her laugh is light, infectious, and for a second, I forget about the pain throbbing under my skin.

For a moment, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time—love.

The last time I felt like this was when my mother would patch me up after getting hurt as a kid. I’m not comparing Tara to my mother, but the caring feeling underneath it all.

“You’re impossible,” Tara murmurs, shaking her head.

She takes a step closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off her body.

Her eyes meet mine, searching, questioning.

“Ripper, would it be wrong if we just…” she begins, but whatever she was going to say fades into silence as I close the distance between us.

My hands find her waist, pulling her against me.

Her breath hitches, and I can feel her heart pounding in sync with mine.

“Just sex, no feelings,” I whisper, my lips brushing against hers.

It’s a declaration, a boundary set to protect ourselves from the chaos of emotions we're both trying to outrun.

“Just sex,” she agrees, her voice trembling slightly.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me down until our mouths collide in a fierce, desperate kiss.

It’s a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for control that neither of us wants to win.

Her hands are everywhere, skimming over my shoulders, my chest, tracing the lines of muscle and the scars that tell stories from my past.

I lift her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed with a sense of urgency that leaves no room for hesitation.

“Ripper,” she gasps as I lay her down, my name a plea on her lips.

I strip away her clothes with practiced ease, revealing the soft curves and smooth skin I’ve thought about for the last few months.

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