Freed (7 page)

Maggie breaks the silence, her eyes connecting with Ransom’s. “It’s true. She’s only been with one person.”

I can’t look at him, so I just stare at my hands. Why did I answer that? Why is saying that aloud more horrifying than admitting I’m a fuck buddy to many? Ah!
Another wall bites the dust.

“Rumors of my promiscuity have been greatly exaggerated,” I joke half-heartedly, trying to relieve the tension.

“Game’s over,” Ransom growls. Suddenly his hand grasps mine, and I’m pulled from the couch.

The living room finally comes alive behind us, and someone suggests a good old-fashioned game of darts.

I click the door quietly behind me as I watch Ransom slide onto the bed and brace his head in hands. He takes a few deep breaths, and I feel so … exposed. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he has my panties in his pocket.

“I don’t understand why this is a big deal,” I soothe.

His head shoots up like I reared back and slapped him. “You lied to me.”

Fuck.
That’s one of his damn rules. No lies. If this is over before it even begins, I’ll never forgive myself. “I never lied to you.”

“Lying by omission is still a lie, Denver. Letting me believe others’ lies, is a lie,” he emphasizes, making his case even stronger.

“That was before, and I don’t get why it matters. You accepted me, thinking I’d been with a slew of guys. Why does knowing it was only the one make a difference?”

“That day? The day of the interview? I called you a whore, and your issue was that I used the wrong word,” he chokes out, his worried gaze meeting mine. “I’d been driven crazy with my desire to have you, but when I heard that rumor, I knew I couldn’t have you. The whole reason I said it like that was in hopes that it would shock you into giving me the truth and deny it.”

“I remember. We’ve been through this. You were pissed, and I forgave you,” I remind him.

“Just to confirm? All this time I’m thinking you’ve had meaningless sex with all these people, and you’ve only ever been with Greer?”

“Yes,” I whisper, moving over to sit beside him. I run my hand over his thigh, testing the waters. When he doesn’t flinch or throw my hand off, I take this is a good sign and release a shaky breath.

“I don’t understand. Why would you make it out like that if that wasn’t the case?” he asks, sounding truly exasperated.

“It was just easier that way,” I admit. “It was easier to let everyone believe the rumors. It was the truth everyone wanted to see.”

“How did it even get that far?”

I close my eyes tightly, knowing he’ll only think of worse of Greer than he does now. “Well, when the rumors started, I did try to deny it. I spouted off my innocence to unhearing ears.” I wrap my arms around myself as I recall the relentless bullying that had taken the place of the mostly-whispered gossip, and feel myself fold in a little under the weight of how awful it had been. “I couldn’t live like that. I couldn’t live having myself be the talk of the town like my mother. The butt of every joke, every prank. They upped their game, so I upped mine. When the bullying kicked in, I fought, Ransom. I fought anyone who dared get close enough. I was one fistfight away from getting kicked out of school, so I changed my tactics. Figured can’t beat ‘em; join ‘em. I just started telling them all what they wanted to hear. Things got easier after that.”

“If Greer was the only person you’ve ever been with, how did that even get started? If he loves you like you say he did, why didn’t he stop it?”

“He didn’t mean to start the rumor,” I say softly.

He stands up very slowly, blowing out a breath as he goes. I feel him looming over me for a moment before I finally look up. Anger and incredulity duel in his eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” he seethes, each word a staccato.

I shake my head no. “It’s what he confessed to me just before … it’s why I didn’t want to have sex with him that night.”

I’m up and in his arms, his lips resting on my forehead. His hands sweep over my back for long moments. I wrap my arms around him, reveling in his touch. I tell him what Greer said to me that night. What he told me the other day about “whispering” the words
She’s not that kind of girl. She’s only looking for a good time.

“Baby, I don’t even know what to say. I mean, that’s just fucked. You get that, right? You get that’s … it’s just fucked.”

My laugh is world-weary. “Oh, yeah. I get it all right.”

His hands come up to cup my face, and he pulls back to pierce me with that gaze. “No more lies. No more half-truths. No more protecting Greer. Understand?” I nod as much as I’m able. He knows every sordid detail now anyway. “I want to help you. I want you to figure all this all out, but if you’re lying to me … hell, lying to yourself, there’s just no point.”

“I understand.”

“You have no reason in this world to trust a living soul after the shit people you’ve had in your life, Denver.” He pinches his lips between his teeth and his hands tighten around my face. My pulse is racing, and I’m suddenly afraid of what he’s going to say. “Shh, baby,” he says against my lips, crushing my mouth under his. “Don’t be upset. I was just gonna say thank you.
Thank you
for trusting me. I won’t let you regret it.”

I can only nod. If I speak, the floodgates will show no mercy.

With a naughty gleam in his eye, he asks, “How did you feel tonight, knowing I had your panties in my pocket?”

I laugh lightly. “Like we had a terrifying, beautiful secret.”

His brow furrows. “Terrifying? Explain.”

“I was terrified with the knowledge that you could have taken one of your light touches to the next level, that you could have easily had your way with me, and that only you know the power you hold over me and my body.”

“That’s hot,” he whispers. “Not terrifying. And you know why?” I shake my head. His grip and the skin around his eyes tighten, his gaze stealing right into my soul. “Because even with all that unease, you can trust me to keep you safe.” I find myself nodding again. “And beautiful, why?”

My face heats at the depth with which I used that particular adjective. “I’m used to secrets that are hurtful and dark.” I search for words that will do justice to that feeling. “Our secret isn’t like that. It won’t damage anyone. It won’t rip us apart. If anything, I felt more connected to you all night. Almost like … a yo-yo. Any time I felt far away from you, all I had to was look to you, and your smallest glance or slightest touch pulled me right back where I belonged.” Releasing a shaky breath, I whisper the most difficult aspect, the part that he could use to hurt me. “Keeping secrets isn’t new to me, but instead of feeling sinister and guilty like before, I felt beautiful … free even.”

“That is beautiful. You’re beautiful. Thank you for your honesty. Now you only have to merge those two lines of thought to enjoy an entirely different level of what you felt tonight.”

His tongue teases the seam of my lips. I close my eyes and breathe him in. He’s my night and my solace. The exact opposite of what I always thought I needed—sunshine and joy, but somehow, he’s the perfect balm. “Open for me,” he whispers. And just like that, he’s thrown me off-kilter once again.

When his tongue touches mine, I see stars behind my eyelids. His kiss is so gentle and calming, but it fires me up all the same. My hands skim down his back to rest on his hips. When he breaks our kiss, he slides one hand to rest on the nape of my neck and the other to cup my hip. In one swift move, he’s got me pinned against the wall. Again. I laugh lightly, but his next words cut it short.

“You remember the consequences for breaking one of my rules?”

Worrying my lip with my teeth, I feel the need to rub my thighs together again. “Umm, hmm,” I mumble.

He leans in. “Sorry?”

“Yes, John,” I enunciate.

The little twinkle in his eye does nothing for my current state. “I won’t put you over my knee tonight, but any other half-truths or omissions, you have floating around in here, you have this week to come clean with them.”

“OK.” When I’m away from him and have my bearings, I’ll search my mind. As for now, coherent thought eludes me as he shifts his weight a little, and suddenly the lace of my panties scratches against my leg. If I were a match, that little move would have set my whole body aflame.

“So how should I punish you?” His look turns playful again as he pretends to consider my correction. “Oh, I know,” he taunts with a wicked grin. “I’d planned to reward you for wearing your skirt and behaving tonight, but now it looks like I’ll need to send you home needy and desperate for me.”

Ugh! I’m already needy and desperate for him. And he was going to reward me? What does that mean? I’m kicking my own ass for not being able to find out firsthand.

Leaning in, he runs my panties up the inside of my thigh and captures my mouth with his teeth, biting and sucking my lips.

“Your pleasure is mine, Denver. Do you understand that?”

I nod, and he gives me a quirked brow. Verbal response to direct questions, I remind myself. “Yes, John,” I acquiesce.

Bending down in front of me, he taps one foot so that I’ll raise it. He slides one leg of my panties on, and then the other, before pulling them up to rest just below my skirt. Fixing me with his stare, he grasps my hips and presses his nose and mouth to my center. “Fuck, you smell good. Good enough to eat, but that can’t happen tonight.”

I whimper low in my throat as he runs his nose and open mouth over the apex above my thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses right over where I need him most. My eyes flitter closed, only to pop back open when he commands, “Eyes on me.” He places a light kiss right over my swollen, begging center. My whole body convulses.

“Nuh, uh,” he chastises, enjoying himself entirely too much. Hooking his fingers in my panties again, he draws them up over my thighs and under my skirt. His calloused fingertips scratch my soft skin, even though his touch is gentle. Once he has them in place, he runs his fingertips down the triangle of the fabric ever so slowly, stopping before he reaches my need. Goose bumps make quick work of my body. “I’m addicted to how responsive you are to my touch,” he whispers, planting a hard kiss there this time. “And I haven’t even really touched you or tasted you yet. Can you imagine how good we’re going to be together, Denver?”

Swallowing hard, I manage a nod ‘cause that’s rhetorical, right? Ransom slides his hands from under my skirt and skims them up my body to fit his hands around my jaw. He plants a quick kiss on my ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth and nipping at it. “Remember what I said,” he whispers. “No touching yourself. Your orgasms are mine. And when you deserve them, I’ll be the one to give them to you.” I whimper again. “If it helps, I can’t fucking wait, and when I’m stroking myself tonight, it’ll be with your soft moans in my ear, your incredible scent surrounding me, and your delectable body that I’m imagining losing myself in.”

I groan because
no, that doesn’t help at all, actually.
I bite down on voicing my frustration, because I know it’ll get me nowhere with this man.

“If you’re a good girl, the next time I see you, I’ll be able to help you out. If you’re naughty, more of the same for you,” he promises with a playful swat to my butt.

He releases me to head out ahead of him. I reach down and grab my coat. Hoping to torture him a little, I throw over my shoulder, “You may be thinking about me while you’re pleasuring yourself tonight, but no matter how vivid your imagination, it has nothing on how much more amazing the real thing would have been,” I groan, running a hand down the center of my chest. I face him fully and pin him with my gaze, holding my thumb and index finger close together. “And you were this close to finding out for yourself, John Ransom.” I laugh as his playful smile drops into a scowl. I scoot from the room before he decides on some more punishment.

Chapter Five

Denver

I
CAN’T TAKE
the separation anymore. I have to see him, even though he said he wanted to wait for our proper date Friday night. Our nightly conversations have just been so hot though. He even explained his rules in detail. They’re pretty simple.

No lying to him or myself.
First bit, no problem. Second, probably gonna be an issue.

No drinking.
Easier said than done. I may or may not have an addiction to the numbness alcohol provides me.

No other guys.
No problem
.

No trash-talking myself.
Second nature. Also might be an issue
.

No self-destructive behavior.
Vague, might not even recognize what that constitutes
.

No discussing our private life.
Would never talk about Ransom, but for purely selfish reasons
.

No pleasuring myself.
That’s never been an issue before, but you know how it goes. Once it’s forbidden, it’s irresistible
.

That last one has me knocking on his door in the middle of my tortured week. He’s been keeping me wanting for days.

Footsteps drawing toward the door echo the rapid thumping coming from my heart, but I’m granted a brief reprieve since it’s Pete who swings the door open wide.

“Hey, Denver. What’s up?” he asks with a wide smile.

“Hi, Pete. Mind if I come in?”

“Not at all. Ransom should be here shortly. He had lab today.”

I’d forgotten about that in my haste to see him. I nod my head and enter, leaving my book bag next to the table.

“Keep me company in the kitchen,” he calls over his shoulder.

“OK … whatcha up to?”

“Just making some lunch. Hungry?”

Not for food.
“No, thanks,” I murmur, and he throws me a knowing look. I barely stifle the groan that threatens to escape. We chat about classes and the mundane for a few minutes while he whips up some tuna salad. When he sits to eat, he rewards me with tales of the two of them growing up together. And it’s not even my birthday.

“Yeah, so,” he laughs around his almost-finished sandwich, “my sister puts me and Ransom both in pink, frilly dresses and then gets mad as hell when we end up in the mud with them. I mean, what did she expect? That was the
last
time she got us in dresses.” I wipe tears from my eyes, imagining two, four-year-old boys like Pete and Ransom being coerced into donning his big sister’s dresses and pretending to be her little sisters for an elaborate tea party. After snagging my hidden stash of Hershey’s Kisses from their cupboard, I had hopped up on the counter, somewhere between the bucket of dead toads that Ransom and Pete had cried over, and the sabotaged tea party. My earlier tension all but oozed from me, courtesy of the affable Pete.