Freed Read online

  “Ohhhh,” he whistles between his teeth. “Ow.”

  “Yeah, and before you commit—” I grab his phone and pull up another image “—make sure you’re well-informed.”

  “Ew. My dick just crawled inside my stomach. Thanks for that,” he deadpans.

  “Hey, you gotta know the risks involved when messing with the … family jewels,” I laugh.

  “I probably won’t be able to get a hard-on for a week now, Denver.”

  “Better no hard-on, than that.” I gesture at the hideous picture.

  “Yeah.” Wincing, he clears his phone, and we prop ourselves against the wall from our next class. “So, you coming over to Ransom’s tonight?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. What’s going on?”

  He waggles his eyebrows at me. “We’re having a little par-tay.”

  “Oh, well, I wasn’t invited,” I pout playfully.

  He pokes my lip back in with his finger. “I’m inviting you, and I’d bet money you have an invite waiting on your phone. We just decided this morning.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, pull out my phone, and power it up, grinning when I see Ransom’s text. You are cordially invited to my apartment tonight to hang out with a bunch of drunk, peckerheaded bull riders. Must RSVP. Must wear skirt.

  “I can tell by that mischievous smile you have been invited.” His eyes widen, and he tips my phone down. “Is my cousin a naughty texter? I’ve always wondered.”

  “Hey,” I protest. “None of your business.” A guilty blush warms my cheeks.

  “He is,” he whispers. “Dirty little minx.”

  I give a bark of laughter. “I don’t think minx fits him, Austin.”

  “I was talking about you, Denver,” he laughs and smacks me on my butt as we move into class. “By the way, you’re not meeting that dude by yourself. Don’t trust ‘em.”

  I didn’t even think he’d been paying attention to my conversation with Stone. Looking back over my shoulder, I see he’s serious. “Austin, our professor told him to talk to me about helping him get caught up. He’s harmless.”

  “No dude is harmless. No. Dude,” he reiterates.

  “Fine. Wanna go with?”

  “I already was, sweet cheeks, but thanks for asking,” he smirks.

  “You’re sure you just want coffee? They have, like, a billion flavors,” Austin offers, throwing his hand at the mind-numbing selection of coffee.

  “Absolutely. All that crap gets in the way of my coffee,” I tell him, looking around for Stone. “Oh, get me a blueberry muffin,” I toss over my shoulder.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I’ve turned in a complete circle when I hear a low voice call my name. He’s standing up now, and I pick him out easily amongst the crowd.

  He gives me a tentative smile that I can’t help but return as he pulls a chair out for me.

  “Hi, Denver, thanks for coming,” he says sweetly. He may look like my bull rider, but his demeanor is the exact opposite. He’s rugged-looking like Ransom, but with soft, faded edges, rather than the jagged ones Ransom sports. His hair is a shade or two lighter, and he wears it longer so that it has a bit of a wave to it.

  “No problem, Stone. What do you need help with exactly?” I say, getting down to business.

  “Umm … well, I’ve been in class for a few weeks now, but I can’t seem to get a handle on the response journal he’s got us working on. Also, I was hoping to get copies of your notes from those first couple of weeks. I thought I’d be able to get caught up on my own, but this class is giving me trouble.”

  “Yeah, sure. That’s easy enough.”

  “Incoming!” Austin declares before piling our table with three little bags of food, bottles of water, and coffees.

  “Geez, Austin,” I complain, scooting my binder out of the way just in time.

  “What? I’m hungry,” he mumbles around another bag dangling from his teeth. I reach up and snag it, hoping it’s not my muffin he’s slobbering all over.

  “Stone, this Neanderthal is my friend, Austin Ransom. Austin, this is Stone …”

  “Hudson,” he finishes, shaking Austin’s hand. I don’t miss the nervous dart his eyes make to mine. Odd. Was he hoping to get me alone? I don’t get that looking to get in your panties vibe from him.

  “So, Stone. You rodeo?” Austin asks, sliding my muffin and coffee to me. “Stay hydrated,” he demands, giving me one of the bottles of water. Okey dokey.

  “Nah, no rodeo for me. What about you two?”

  “Dude, you’re sitting with a fucking legend.”

  “My bad, Austin,” Stone laughs. He has a nice laugh and a nice smile. “How is it you’re a legend exactly?”

  Austin crams a piece of muffin into his mouth and mumbles around it, “Not me, dude. Her.” He gestures to me.

  “Aw, Austin. You’re so sweet and modest,” I coo and pat his head.

  Nonplussed, I grin at Stone and pinch Austin hard on his cheek. He lets out a squeal. “Austin just told you about me so that I would brag on him. He’s currently ranked fourth in the college bull riding circuit.”

  “Damn, man,” Stone praises. I glance to Austin to see if the way Stone’s eyes light up remind him of Ransom, but I don’t see any recognition. Maybe I’m just seeing Ransom everywhere and in everyone. I’ve heard that happens when one is in lo— Whoa! What in the ever-loving hell? “That’s awesome. Congrats.”

  “Thanks, but her boyfriend’s first.” I throw Austin a look at his not-so subtle comment. He just smirks at me. “Not to mention, ain’t nobody got nothing on Little Miss Sunshine, here. She’s first,” Austin brags.

  Stone’s intense glance is eerily familiar and almost steals my breath. What the … seriously, does Austin not see this? “Barrels?” he asks.

  “Yep,” I mutter.

  We get Stone squared away, and I give him my notes to copy, making him promise not to lose them. Even though I have them typed on my computer too, I still like to have my handwritten ones for whatever reason.

  Saying our goodbyes, Austin and I head out toward the dorms and apartments, but I can’t shake the feeling of déjà vu Stone treated me to.

  “You wanna come up to Ransom’s now? I know he won’t mind you being early.”

  “No, I need to get changed and grab Maggie anyway. I’ll meet you over there later, ‘K?”

  “Later, sweet cheeks,” he says right before he licks my cheek. I barely protest. I’ve long since learned it’ll do me absolutely no good.

  “Later,” I mutter to his back, already distracted by Ransom’s invitation and his demand that I wear a skirt. Is it some kind of test? Power play? I mean, what the hell does Ransom care about what I wear? Should I defy him? Hmm … what would he do if I did?

  Chapter Four

  Denver

  “WHOA! YOU’RE WEARING a skirt?” Maggie screams when she exits the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong with my skirt?” I glance down, taking in the dark, blue jean mini skirt.

  “Nothing, honey. You look hot. It’s just I’ve never seen you wear a skirt. Oh, I’m gonna wear one too, then!” she squeals, clapping her hands.

  I finish buttoning my navy blue, daisy-covered shirt and tuck it in before I look back at her. “Promise it looks good?”

  “Oh, I promise,” she assures me. She twirls out a couple of skirts, and I agree with her about her wearing wear the cream skirt with her ivory sweater and decking it out in turquoise. Why she asks me for advice, I have no idea. I’m not that great with clothes. I just wear what I like. Speaking of like, I move to my closet and dig in the back to pull out a garment bag. Hanging it on the door, I unzip it and hear Maggie’s gasp behind me.

  “Oh my God!” She moves in close and runs her hand over it, not touching it but hovering over, like she’s bestowing a blessing upon it. “Denver,” she whispers in awe. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Please say you’re gonna wear it.”

  “I am. I can’t very well go out in the cold in this th
ing.” I said, as I flick a hand at my mini skirt. More like micro-mini, I muse, but it does touch my thighs so there’s that.

  I pull the buttery-soft duster from the bag and slip my arms in it. It’s a shade lighter than my beige suede boots.

  “Just … wow,” Maggie breathes, finally touching the fringe that hangs artistically from the long coat. Laughing, we exit into the hallway and run into Stephanie.

  “Hey, girls. I was about to see if y’all wanted to head over together.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll drive,” I offer, dangling keys from my finger.

  Stephanie’s light brown curls bounce as her head snaps toward mine. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, an eyebrow disappearing into her hairline.

  I can only laugh. “Umm … no.” One of Ransom’s rules, although he called them “preferences,” but I don’t mention that. “You look cute,” I say, changing the subject. She really did, decked out in red and black. “Gage gonna be there?”

  “Oh, yeah. They’ve already gotten started,” she laughs.

  And boy, had they. We can hear them chanting and stomping from the stairwell outside of Ransom’s apartment. When I crack the door open, “Ride ‘Em High, Ride ‘Em Low” pours out, and we kind of freeze around the door, afraid to make any sudden movements. Gage’s dart barely misses Austin’s foot, which elicits a lot of yelling and cussing from the cowboys who are crowded around the pair. It looks a little safer, so we ease through the doorway.

  “What are you boys up to?” Stephanie asks.

  Maggie and I laugh lightly at their deer in the headlights expressions as the charming cowboys realize they’re busted. I begin to slip the coat from my shoulders, since the rampant testosterone has the room overheated. My smile falls when I meet the intense gaze of my bull rider, his expression causing my movements to still, and the coat to rest on my arms. He shakes his head no and crooks a finger at me. That look, that finger. Those two little things have my pulse thrumming. I cross the room to him, shrugging my coat back up as I do. I vaguely register Gage, Austin, and Pete explaining the rules of Beerdarts to Maggie and Stephanie. Sounds dangerous, but not as dangerous as following this man into his bedroom.

  The door barely closes before I find myself pushed back against the wall, Ransom’s hard body pinning me against it.

  “Hey,” he whispers against my ear. His lips immediately suckle the sensitive skin behind my ear. I applaud myself for braiding my hair for him. It’s not just his favorite anymore.

  “Hey,” I gasp, as goose bumps make quick work of my body. Despite the warm coat, I shiver.

  “What the hell is this?” he murmurs, his hands running down the fringe that rests over my breasts. Even though the leather rests between them, my nipples harden under his touch.

  “You like?”

  “I fucking love,” he whispers, trailing kisses along my jaw and to my mouth. “It’s sexy as hell, but where’s your skirt?”

  Laughing, I state, “Present and accounted for, sir.” I said the word playfully, and with anyone else, it wouldn’t have the same meaning. I still hadn’t determined how I felt about it until it slipped from my mouth. Decision made: It’s kinda hot.

  He withdraws his mouth from mine, an impish grin resting on both sets. “Sir?” He asks with a crooked brow.

  I nod. He shakes his head. “What the hell am I gonna do with you? Are you itchin’ for your first spanking? Is that it?”

  I swallow hard at the images that flood my brain with those words. Speaking of flooding. I rub my thighs together as covertly as I’m able. “I told you to wear a skirt, not a band aid,” he chastises me.

  “Well, Sir,” I say again. “You’re the one who told me communication is key in a relationship like ours. Perhaps you should remember that.”

  “Oh, I’ll make a note of it. And no Sir for you,” he says, tapping the end of my nose once with his forefinger.

  “No?” I ask, disappointment evident in my question.

  He doesn’t miss it. “No, and no pouting.” The teasing glint that had played in his eyes since we entered the room flashes from his eyes only to be replaced by a serious look. “When we play?” He cups my jaw in his palm.

  “Mmm, hmm,” I prompt, trying desperately not to lean in and kiss him. Holy shit! I’m so turned on right now.

  “It’s John.” And yet another emotion takes over—vulnerability.

  “John,” I whisper softly. “I like that. I like that a lot.” And just like that, I feel more connected to him than ever.

  “Ah …” he rasps and squeezes his eyes tight. “My name on your lips …” He opens his eyes, and the heat from them threatens to engulf me. “Say it again, baby.”

  I wet my lips and swallow hard. His eyes dart to my mouth. Reaching out, I run my hands over his hair and settle them around his jaw. I cradle his face and pull up slightly, letting him know I want his eyes on mine. Leaning in, I plant a brief, soft kiss on his lips. When I pull back, I whisper his name again, and the look he gives me has everything in me tightening. I’m tensed as if I’m standing on a ledge contemplating a plunge into a deep, unknown ravine. I’m secure, though, in the knowledge that Ransom waits for me at the bottom.

  “No one calls me John, but you. It is yours … I am yours.” Oh. My. God!

  Like he’s prone to do, just when I think I’ve found my footing with him, he throws me for another loop. He takes two steps back, and the flame is back in his eyes. “Denver,” he commands, “take your coat off and lay it on the bed.” All right, here we go. Somehow I know this is probably the easiest thing he’ll demand of me. I take a deep breath and slide the leather from my body. Folding it over once, I lay it on the bed and step back.

  “Mmm … daisies. I approve,” he says of my shirt. I just smile. “Slowly, very slowly,” he drawls, “reach under your skirt and take your panties off.”

  My heart pounds against my ribs like a battering ram. If I take them off, there’s no way I won’t feel completely exposed. My skirt is too short. Ransom reads me just right.

  “You’ll think about that next time you decide to tease me with the length of your skirt, won’t you?” he challenges.

  Resisting an eye roll, I reach under my skirt and hook my thumbs in my panties, slowly sliding them down my legs. I maintain eye contact until I have to focus on pulling them over my boots so that I don’t fall over. I right myself, holding the panties in my hand even though I want to toss them at him. I have a feeling that wouldn’t be a very submissive act. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at that image, but he grins anyway, seeing the laughter in my eyes.

  “Good girl,” he praises, holding his palm out.

  I didn’t expect that. “You want them?” I ask, the almost-laughter disappearing from my voice and my face.

  “I do. Put them in my hand.” Shit! I can feel the moisture on them, and I know him. There’s no way he will miss that little detail.

  My eyes dart to his hand as I bunch them and drop the prize onto his palm. He squeezes his hand around them. “Thank you,” he says.

  “You’re welcome, John.” His eyes flare, and he brings my panties to his nose, taking a deep breath. My face heats with embarrassment at the intimate act, and my channel heats anew with yet another gush of wetness. My nails dig into my palms as I try to stand here and appear unaffected.

  “Lace? I approve,” he murmurs, rubbing the fabric with his fingertips. “You’re wet, baby, and you smell incredible.” A moan escapes me, and my head falls back on the door as I watch him fold my little yellow panties into his pocket. “Let’s go party,” he says nonchalantly.

  When I hit the living room following Ransom, I giggle as a dart glances off Gage’s boot and Stephanie apologizes profusely.

  “Woman, pierce the can, not my toe,” he teases. “Drink up, sweetie.”

  Stephanie sips at her beer as the game apparently demands. “I was closer that time. Let me have another go,” she says, collecting the darts and righting the can at Gage’s feet.

>   Maggie and I cheer, and on the third try, she pierces the can. Gage lets a whoop and dives down to pull the dart from the can. Putting his mouth to the hole, he shotguns the beer while we cheer him on.

  Ransom slips up behind me, his fingertips grazing the tender skin where skirt meets thigh. I back up toward him, but he moves away quickly to take his turn. I somehow resist pouting again.

  After a few more rounds, during which Austin never misses, the girls and I head into the kitchen to put some snacks out while the guys mix some drinks. I glance up and catch Ransom stroking his pocket while he watches me, a naughty grin on his face.

  We shoot the bull, eat, and end up back in the living room with our drinks. Ransom made mine, so it is alcohol-free. He asked first though, but I followed through on his rule, his reasoning sound on that one.

  I slide down on the couch beside Ransom and very carefully cross my legs so that I don’t flash anyone. Ransom trails one hand up my shin, resting it on my knee. Leaning in, he nips on my ear before whispering, “Uncross your legs, baby.”

  I shoot him a frazzled look. I feel more secure with my legs crossed, damn it.

  “Do it. I’ll keep you safe,” he promises.

  With a little huff, I do and press my legs together tight, ignoring the desire to rub them together. He’s had me primed all night.

  “Oh! I know!” Maggie shouts, drawing me out of my lust-fueled, hazy state. “Let’s play 21 Questions!” A couple of the guys groan, but she squeals and claps her hands, jumping up from her place on the floor to get a pen and paper. “I haven’t ever played, boys. Get over it,” she recommends with a laugh. “And we have seven people. Perfect! OK, everyone write down three questions. Don’t let anyone see them.” She passes out pens and makes quick work of ripping the paper into enough strips.

  She jots down her questions and comes back with an empty Solo cup, collecting the papers with fascination. Ransom tosses his in and gets up to change the music. I’m sure he’s had enough country for the night. When Def Leppard fills the room, I can’t hide my surprise. He just grins and slides back down beside me.