Page 133 of Beautifully Wounded

I nod, even though by all, he also means my dad.

It’s been a week since Ringo kidnapped me, and now that I’m away from that life, it’s even clearer to me how wrong and crude it was.

Why would my dad stand by and let them treat me that way?

Why didn’t he ever fight for me?

As if he can’t bear to hold himself back, Ringo shifts, cupping my face before pressing his lips to mine.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” he rasps between nips, and I kind of forget what we were talking about as his entire presence wraps around me like a security blanket.

Finally, I feel safe. Even after everything that went down in the last twenty-four hours, I feel safe just being in his presence. Safer than I have in years.

With each nip of his lips, heat builds between my legs, that familiar ache that’s been building for days returning. I can’t believe how horny I am. I never felt like this with dickhead Daniel. I thought I did, but this… this is something else.

Breaking the kiss, Ringo eases back just enough to press his forehead to mine, our eyes locking as we stare at each other.

“I can’t seem to control myself around you. But I’m trying really fucking hard to.”

His admission means a lot. It reminds me that he, for some reason, wants me too, but also that he won’t press for more.

But more is what I ache for, yet I’m too terrified to let him touch me more than this.

“I don’t have to touch you.”

He told me that yesterday, and honestly, those six words have been bouncing around in my head ever since.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, slowly drawing back to get a better look at my face.

I open my mouth to tell him, but the words lodge in the back of my throat.

I can’t talk about this.

“Angel,”he says in warning, yet still I don’t say anything because I need him to demand it. I hate that I need that, but it’s the only way I can accept revealing what’s going on inside my head. I need the choice to be taken from me.

He studies me for a long beat, his dark eyes dancing between mine before his jaw ticks and a low growl rumbles in his chest.

“Tell me, now,” he demands, and just like that, the heaviness that was holding me back somehow lifts and I cave.

“What did you mean yesterday when you said you don’t have to touch me?”

His brows furrow at my question, but then lift as realisation sinks in.

“You want to know how I can help ease that ache without touching you?”

I nod, biting my lip as heat flushes my cheeks. Ringo must notice because his thumbs start stroking over the searing apples of my cheeks as he holds my face in place.

“The other night out in the courtyard, you liked watching me, didn’t you?”

I nod, remembering how he looked sitting with his legs parted wide, his hand fisting his thick, hard dick as he stroked himself. I’ve thought about that a lot. Like what would have happened if I had gone to him?

I want to tell him that, but the words won’t come, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth, not wanting to say the words, and he smirks.

“Did it turn you on, Angel?”

I nod again, and he sucks in a slow, deep breath.

“Did you see how hard my cock was?”

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