Page 89 of Ruthless

Chapter 33

Ginger

I was in Della's kitchen making dinner when I heard the knock at the door. I turned to glance at Skipper, hoping that he would get it, because I was in the process of dropping pasta into a pot of boiling water. He made eye-contact with me as he got to his feet. We exchanged a smile, and I turned back to the stove. I liked Skipper. At first I'd worried that he was moving too fast with Della, not giving her the time to mentally heal from her ordeal, but after seeing how she had responded to his patience and gentle manipulation I decided that he was just what she needed. He didn't give her time to sit back and feel sorry for herself.

Men were different when it came to situations like this. Women let their hearts rule their actions, while men tended to take the bull by the horns and do what they needed to do to get things done. I unwillingly acknowledged that, had it just been me and Della, she would probably have still been bedridden. Skipper had gotten her up and out of bed on the first day, giving Della a reason to move forward. Ever since then, she'd taken the time to do her makeup and dress nicely before his arrival. I only prayed that he was spending so much time with her because he was serious about pursuing a relationship with her, and not just because he felt sorry for her.

I'd watched him closely. He was very sincere in how he was treating Della. The fact that she seemed comfortable around him, happy even, revealed that she was on the same page as he. Whatever was happening between them was a good thing.

I heard mumbling at the door, but didn't turn around, stirring the pasta until it was covered with water. Next, I stirred the sauce that I'd made earlier, bringing the spoon up to my mouth for a careful taste. Satisfied that it tasted good, I set the spoon aside and covered the sauce.

"Smells good."

I gasped and turned around, surprised to see Rebel standing behind me. I looked beyond him, to the living room, to see that Skipper and Della were heading toward her bedroom. She cast me a smile, her face all but healed from the beating that she'd received. I reluctantly returned my gaze to Rebel, afraid of what I'd see there. So many things went through my mind at once, all of them having to do with him not being in my life. God, I'd missed him so much. It had been almost three weeks since I'd last seen him, and texts hadn't been enough. I drank him up.

As sexy as ever in his head-to-toe biker gear, I noticed that his hair was a little longer than it had been when I’d last seen him, and the scruff on his chiseled jaw was a little thicker. He was bad ass all the way, yet he looked at ease standing before me, content almost. I realized that he was waiting for me to say something.

"Hi." I felt my heart jump, remaining where I was, unmoving. What I really wanted to do was jump into his arms and kiss him all over. A small smile curved my lips upwards. "How have you been?" I heard the nervous tremor in my voice.

"I've missed you like hell," he said, surprising me. His sharp gaze moved over me like a slow caress, causing my nipples to harden immediately against the soft material of my tee. Only he could elicit this instant, intense reaction from my body.

"You're the one who stayed away," I pointed out, hearing the slight bitterness in my tone.

"I had shit to take care of," he replied in a hard voice. He took a step closer, yet kept the small island between us. "I lied to you."

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"You don't owe me thirty grand."

What? That was the last thing I had expected him to say. I wanted to be angry at him, but I couldn't muster up the emotion. The money seemed so unimportant now.

"I've known from the beginning that you didn't take the money. I used it as an excuse to stay close to you."

"You needed an excuse?"

He released a harsh breath. "Yeah. I didn't want to accept that you were different from all the other women, but from the very beginning I knew that you were. You crawled inside my soul until I needed you like I needed air. And I fought that feeling every step of the way."

I didn't have to ask him why, I already knew why. "I should be mad at you," I said, still unable to bring forth any emotion. Instinct told me that our conversation was going to be instrumental in my future happiness.

Our future happiness.

"You should." His crooked grin sent a sharp jolt of awareness through me. "There are a lot of reasons that you should be mad at me." He hesitated. "That you should hate me."

I couldn't let that comment go. Even though love and hate was a marriage between every couple, I'd never hated Rebel, not even in the beginning. He hadn't been the only one who had sensed that there'd been something between us. "No." I shook my head. "I can accept anger, but I'll never hate you." Why couldn't I say the words that I wanted to say? That I loved him?

"I want to explain why I stayed away the last three weeks."

"You had a job."

"That wasn't the only reason, angel. I was a bastard for taking off right after the ordeal you suffered. I should have stayed to take care of you, to help get you through the aftermath. But the fear of what I was feeling sent me away."

"You, afraid?" I tried to make light of it to ease the hardness of what I sensed was coming. Rebel was tense, every muscle in his body locked with the emotion of what he was admitting to. He looked like stone, except for the tic in his strong jaw. It was the only sign that he was trying to hold on to his composure.

"Baby, if you only knew."

"Then tell me," I encouraged softly.

He snorted. "It's hard for a man to expose his weaknesses, and, angel, you've always been mine. The intensity of how much I want you is crippling. I've never wanted another woman like I want you."

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