Page 65 of Beautifully Wounded

“Name givers? Is that whatyou call your parents?” Wendy sneers, like she’s about to cause trouble, but I simply shrug.

“The people who gave me life aren’t worthy of being called parents,” I declare before glancing up at Ringo, offering him a smile. “I might change my name to Angel, since that’s what you like calling me.”

Oh damn.

Who am I right now?

Even though Ringo grins, his tone oozes seriousness.

“I thought I told you that name was just for me.”

I shrug innocently, but then let loose my devious expression, feeling playful. “I thought you liked calling me your sex goddess. At least that’s all you managed to mutter last night when I—”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Ringo snaps, his lips tugging at the corners at my sudden, mischievous playfulness as he leans closer so only I can hear. “You’re playing with fire, Angel.”

I know I’m only acting a part, but I’m pretty sure I’m playing it a little too well right now. I’m almost convincing myself.

Smitty and a few of the other men are chuckling, while Darla is smiling, and Wendy is scowling.

“Ahhh, Beatle, weren’t you going to show me where the laundry is?” I ask, since I’m already playing with fire, I may as well toss fuel on the flames.

“Oh, he told you how he got his nickname, did he?” Smitty chuckles as Ringo glares at me. “Who would have thought this fucker was in a band back in the day?”

So that’s where the nickname Ringo comes from.

I nod like I have a clue when really I’m just making up crap as I go. “I know, right? It’s hard to believe he has a musical bone in his body with his inability to dance.”

Smitty loses it then, clutching at his chest as Murf approaches us wearing a huge grin, while Ringo shoots daggers in every direction of laughter.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us,” he states so everyone can hear. “She wants to see the laundry room, and not for the purpose of washing our clothes.”

I frown, unsure of his meaning before he reaches down and grabs a handful of my arse, giving it a squeeze until a squeak flies from my lips, shock widening my eyes.

“What did you say earlier, Angel? You want me balls deep inside you as you sit on the washer during the spin cycle?”

Roars of laughter fill the air, as well as hoots as Ringo scoops me up in his arms cradling me to his chest, and with purpose in his strides, heads straight for the laundry room across the courtyard.

16

My arse hits the washing machine, a gasp flying from my lips as Ringo sits me on the cool surface. My frantic gaze darts around the dingy space, shock and a little fear seeping in as I realise my mistake.

I poked the bear.

“I’m sorry. I was just going along with things. I didn’t mean to make you look bad or…” I stop blabbering as Ringo steps closer, shaking his head as a smooth chuckle floats from his lips.

“You didn’t make me look bad, Angel.” His large hands come to rest on the tops of my thighs, and a jolt of something I don’t want to admit shoots straight between my legs, startling me.

What the hell?

“What I said about dancing… I have no idea if you can dance or not. I’m sure you’re a great dancer.”

Oh hell. Why is his smile so… sexy?

Wait.

No, it’s not.

It’s definitely not.

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