Page 30 of All Tied Up
The darkness in his tone sounded tortured. Or perhaps that was my imagination. He had no reason to be tortured unless he was dealing with guilt. Man-whore guilt. I was the one who was being hurt. The one being cast aside.
“Liar,” I spat. “You don’t want to see me awake or asleep. Your silence made that very clear.”
He leaned down just enough to reach out and grab my ankle. Before I could try and pull it free, he tugged it hard enough that it slid me to the edge of the bed. Toward him. His face was so close to mine that his breath warmed my skin.
“You’re all I fucking think about from the moment I open my eyes until they finally close from exhaustion,” he growled, tightening his grip on me. “Don’t think for a second that this isn’t killing me. It’s goddamn torture. It’s why I’m here, in your room, watching you. It’s why I’ve been here four other times, doing the same thing. Needing to be near you.”
I swallowed hard. Emotion caused my throat to feel thick. I didn’t understand any of this. Why washesuffering? Why was he sneaking into my apartment at night whenhehad chosen to stay away and shut me out? Why was he with another woman?
“No! You don’t!” I shouted, shoving at him, although he didn’t budge. “You don’t get to touch me, Ransom, or feed me yourbullshit. I saw the distillery’s Instagram post. The one where you’re all wrapped around little Miss Daisy Dukes! While I was here, worrying about you! Afraid you’d been arrested for murder!” A tear slid down my face as my brokenness began to seep through the wall I had tried to build around it.
His brows drew together, as if he was confused, and then I watched as realization hit him. Jesus, had he already forgotten about the woman? What, had he fucked her, too, and then tossed her aside for the next in line?
He cupped the side of my face, and I jerked away from it. There was a flash of humor in his golden depths as he used the back of his finger to wipe away the tear from my cheek.
“Wrapped around her is a bit of a reach, Shakespeare,” he said softly.
Did he think this was funny? I tried again to move back from him, but his hand on my ankle tightened, and he tugged me even closer.
“You’re feisty when jealous.”
My hand moved then, and the crack that sounded across his cheek startled me more than it did him. I froze in horror. I’d slapped him. I’d never slapped anyone in my life.
With his free hand, he grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand to his mouth. I watched, still in shock at my reaction, as he pressed a kiss to my open palm. What was he doing? I’d hit him. But he had been laughing at my being hurt. No, not hurt. I had been destroyed.
When his eyes locked back on mine, they were tender. Not the reaction to my actions one would expect.
“That woman’s name is Montana Carrigan, and if my brother gets his way, it’ll be Montana Carver before too long,” he said. “That was the distillery’s employee Christmas party. I’d been in a fucking shitty mood all day, and Than said something to set me off. I grabbed his woman, knowing it would get under his skin,and pulled her to me just as the photographer told us to raise our glasses and smile for the camera.”
Oh.
I swallowed hard, and for the first time in days, breathing wasn’t painful. The tightness in my chest was gone.
He dropped his head, and the brush of his lips against my shoulder made me shudder. I didn’t need to be reacting to this. I shouldn’t allow him to touch me. Yet my entire body felt as if he’d set it on fire from that one simple caress. That, and the relief pulsing through me. Relief that he hadn’t been with someone else. He’d been having a bad day. The smile hadn’t been real.
My body seemed to light up for only this man. There was that too.
Without thinking it through, I arched my neck and gave him better access as he continued a path of kisses over to my throat, nipping at my skin, then taking small licks, as if I were a treat he wanted to savor.
Even if I’d misunderstood that photo, I couldn’t just let this happen. Bend to him like this. I deserved an explanation, answers. I wasn’t some random booty call.
I intended to tell him just that when he snatched the covers off me and slid a hand between my thighs.
“Lie back for me,” he growled near my ear, then shoved my legs open. “I’ve been craving the way you taste. I need you on my tongue.”
Okay, so maybe we could talk after. I was panting, and the unsuccessful attempts I’d had at getting myself off lately left me unsatisfied. Ransom wouldn’t leave me that way.
NO! This wasn’t right. I was better than this. I wasn’t like the others, where he could just snap his fingers and they’d spread their legs.
“I’m not one of your—your hookups,” I said, doing my best to sound stern.
He narrowed his eyes, and his hand tightened its grip on my thigh. “No, Shakespeare, you’re not. You’re the reason I don’t have fucking hookups anymore. I can’t think about sinking my dick into any cunt but yours. Now, let me have it … please.” The fierceness in his tone softened on that last word, and … well, all good intentions were gone.
He didn’t … he wasn’t sleeping with other women? Because of me? The surge of emotions that came with that confession made my eyes sting and my throat tighten. God, had I ever experienced a relief this powerful?
I fell back onto my elbows, then lowered myself the rest of the way.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he stared down at me. His eyes drifting down my body. “I don’t care what they do to me. It’s worth it.” His words were barely above a whisper, as if he were talking to himself.
