Fuck me.
Her hair is a soft pink shade now. It’s pretty on her. Really makes her dark eyes pop. She’s wearing black boots. A knockoff version of Docs. The grey skirt hugging her hips stretches over her bump stopping just above her knees. And her top, a red, white and black tee, is tied in a knot at the front, sitting below tits that are fuller than I remember.
Fuck.
Itdoesn’t really look like her style, but considering she’s been hiding out at Leather and Lace, I bet these clothes came from the girls there. They are the type of clothes that despite her condition, would have helped her blend in.
But fuck, I’d spot her in a heartbeat. My Angel doesn’t blend in.
Not to me.
When my eyes find hers again, I take a step forward, moving close enough that she has to tip her chin up to hold my gaze.
“You fucking ran.” My voice is rougher than I mean for it to be.
But I can’t help it. Being here with her after all that time apart. All the fucking doubt and frustration and sleepless fucking nights.
And here she is. Just standing here.
Safe.
Whole.
Looking at me like she’s not sure if she wants to run again, or stay.
Hooking my finger under her chin, I lean down, hovering my lips achingly close to hers as my voice drops, low and firm.
“What did I tell you about running from me?”
6
The deep gravel of his voice sends a tremor through me, and I’m not so sure it’s from fear. The pull to launch myself into his arms is demanding, but I don’t know where I stand. I don’t understand what happened back in his motel room three weeks ago.
So instead of falling into him, I force myself to step back.
“You said there was nothing I could say that would make you turn your back on me.” I remind him of the words he spoke that night when I was scared to admit the heinous things that had happened to me at the hands of Daniel and his friends. “You said nothing would stop you from wanting to protect me.”
“That hasn’t fucking changed, Angel,” he snaps, and I take another step back. “Stop. Don’t take another fucking step. You know I’ll never hurt you.”
Won’t he?
Maybenot physically, but we both know physical pain is nothing compared to the damage emotions can do.
“You were angry when you saw…” My voice falters, a lump forming in my throat as I gesture to my bump.
“No… Yes… Fuck!” His whole body tenses before he spins, giving me his back.
Tension sparks in the air between us, like it’s alive. A cell or being that you can feel and see.
Ringo shoves his hands through his hair, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking apart.
The muscles in his shoulders strain through his tee, his leather vest hiding the rest of his back.
I’ve never really studied his vest before. But now, with the hue of the city lights glowing over us, it picks up the white design on the black leather, and I’m surprised at the beauty in it.
The skull is anything but perfect, and I think that’s where the beauty lies.
It’s imperfection.