Page 56 of Beautifully Reckless

“I don’t expect anything from you, Angel.”

I raise a brow, and he chuckles softly, dropping his finger.

“Okay, so maybe I expect you to wash.”

“Oh… do I smell?”

He shakes his head. “No. But if I have to keep looking at you in nothing but my t-shirt, I’m gonna need some alone time in here.”

Even as my cheeks heat, I can’t help but smile. I love how he makes me feel wanted without making me feel pressured.

“Just so you know, Idohave undies on under the shirt.”

His eyes narrow. “Not undies, Angel.Panties.”

Shit! Now my cheeks are on fire.

“Panties,” I breathe, agreeing without thought, and just like that, I’m almost ready to let him touch me again, the way he did in his bed that night. Letting me use his hand. His fingers.

Ringo’s whiskeyeyes drop to my lips as he leans in closer, caging me in against the wall with one hand braced on the tiles above my head.

“Tell me to leave the room, Angel,” he rasps, his breath warm against my ear.

Oh dear lord, how am I meant to do that? I’m aching, probably worse than I was at the Western, and that scares me because I’m not ready to take another man into my body.

As much as I crave that connection, I know I’m not mentally there yet.

Still, I can’t find it in me to tell him to leave.

Steam fills the room from the shower I completely forgot was running, making my skin sticky and damp.

“I don’t want you to leave, but…”

“But?” he asks, easing back to lock eyes with mine.

“I’m not ready for you to see me naked.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, grazing the backs of his fingers down my cheek and along my throat. “I’m not ready for that either. When that happens, it’ll be somewhere we can’t be disturbed.”

My heart flips.

“But I want you to know, it wasn’t just my heart that ached when you ran from me, Angel. I’ve got enough pent-up tension filling my nuts to explode a fucking building. I’m looking forward to giving you another show some time soon.”

Ooooohhhh. I’ve missed this side of Ringo. The ruthless man. The same man who told my mum I was his and he’d do with me as he pleased. The very man who shamelessly stroked himself in front of his Southern Sadists brothers and half naked Doxies, all while his eyes stayed locked on me.

Is it wrong to be turned on by that kind of behaviour after everything I’ve been through?

Maybe.

Or, maybe not, because if there’s one thing I’ve come to appreciate about Ringo, it’s that he’s open about who he is.

Daniel. Donny. All those vile animals who took from me against my will, they walk through society like they’re decent humans. Like they give a crap. Like they are law-abiding citizens.

But really, they are worse than the outlaw members of the Southern Sadists. Because guys like Daniel Stone and Donny Allen hide who they really are.

Ringo? He lays it bare with every word. Every look.

Some might call it crude. Perhaps the old me would have too, because she was a naive little goody two-shoes.

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