Page 83 of Ramsay

With a snarl, I change my direction and, after a twenty-minute drive, pull up to Ramsay’s fucking mansion, spying the SUV parked outside. With my heart in my throat and self-righteous indignation burning in my veins, I stop at the door with my hand raised to knock before pausing.

Shit. It’s Christmas fucking day.

What if his parents are here?

Biting my lip, I stand undecided until the decision is made for me when the door swings open and a middle-aged man appears on the other side. He’s tall with dark hair, cool brown eyes, and crow’s feet. He’s handsome for an old dude, and even though Ramsay’s a dead ringer for his frosty as fuck mother, I recognize the same demeanor from this guy. He’s the missing puzzle piece from Ramsay’s picture, his dad.

The problem is, I know him. From before…Does Ramsay know his dad is a fucking creeper who likes to pick up girls?

“Who’re you?” he asks brusquely, looking me over with a frown.

Thankfully, he doesn’t recognize me. Why would he? I was the strung-out girl always in the background when he made his deals with Jagger and Crush.

“I’m Willow, Ramsay’s f-friend.”

Of course, I trip over my lies, but I can't exactly tell him I’m his son's fucking enemy or whore as his mother called me. Besides, I’m two seconds away from rushing to my car and getting the fuck out of here. Once again, I’m confronted by my past and eventually my nine lives are going to be fucking zero.

“Hm,” he says, stepping back and speaking to someone over his shoulder, before turning back to me. “You can wait in the study. Janson will escort you.”

Janson? Apparently, Janson is the butler or some shit because he gives me a short bow and gestures for me to follow. The pretense floors me, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Even though I’ve seen no butler in the few times I’ve been here, I recognize the privilege oozing off of Ramsay every time I’m in his presence.

Despite my misgivings, I follow Janson, who deposits me in the room where Ramsay first crushed my heart. Uneasily, I move to the window overlooking the expansive backyard, which by the way, is too huge to be classified as a yard. From this room, there’s the pool to my right, a grand patio beside it covered in various comfy couches and chairs, beyond which is rolling green grass as far as the eye can see, interspersed with neatly trimmed greenery and statues.

This is stupid. What am I doing here?

What started as a burning need to prove Ramsay’s the dick who planted the rabbit's foot has turned into a dangerous situation. Not only that, but I probably should've picked a better time to intrude, if at all because Christmas is clearly a bad time.

Resolved, I turn to leave, stopping abruptly when I find Ramsay looming in the door with a speculative look on his face. He’s dressed in a black suit, with a stark white shirt and matching dark tie. He looks fucking ridiculous and good enough to eat. I guess the Yates family celebrates the holidays in style.

“Hm, love. I didn't expect to find you here,” he says silkily, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him.

I have a serious sense of deja vu when he locks it before leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“I should have waited,” I mutter, strangely embarrassed to have invaded his home today. I mean, Ramsay would have no such qualms if the situations were reversed, but...

“Why?” he asks, raising his brows.

Gesturing at his formal dress, I say, “Christmas.”

He smiles one of those genuine smiles that lights up his face in beautiful relief, and my breath catches in my throat before I turn away. Avoiding my reaction, I run my fingers over a large desk sitting in the middle of the room, opposite a fancy sofa facing a crackling fire.

“Ah, Christmas. Well, here in the Yates household, Christmas is just another excuse to fucking hate each other,” he says with a shrug, stalking toward me.

“That’s sad,” I whisper, and I only have time to gasp before he’s dropped his mouth to mine.

I’m frozen at first, while he clutches my face in his hands and laves me heatedly. But eventually I whimper as he swirls his tongue wickedly around mine.

He chuckles against my lips before lifting me, so I’m seated on the desk. Stepping between my legs, he deepens the kiss once more, rubbing the length of his erection against the seam of my jeans.

Arching into him, I meet his dick with my core, and grind desperately as tingles erupt across my skin, creating a trail of fire leading straight to my throbbing clit.

With a groan, he pulls back and looks me over with heated eyes. I hold my breath, waiting for him to back off, as he always does, but to my relief, he gives me a wicked smile and reaches for the edges of my sweater.

When I raise my arms, he tugs and pulls it free with a flourish.

His nostrils flare as he takes in my breasts through the thin lace of my bra before he attacks my nipples, licking one through the material and biting down gently. I can’t contain my moan at the zing of pleasure as heat fills me up so badly, I arch into him, begging for more.

He switches to my other nipple, sucking it inside his mouth and twirling it around his tongue while he pinches and pulls the other with his devilish fingers.

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