Freed Page 7

  “How ya feel, baby?” I meant that to sound more controlled, but it came out rather teasing.

  “I feel … hot.”

  I chuckle and tilt her chin up so that her eyes meet mine. I can still feel the smile in my eyes. “Well, you certainly look hot,” I admit.

  Smirking at me, she clarifies, “Not that kind of hot.”

  “You’re turned on?”

  The heat shows in her cheeks more prominently. “Very.” And her voice is back to that husky whisper that makes my body want to shoot a load right here and now. I better get the show on the road.

  I lead her over to the bed and ease her toward the middle, leaving her kneeling once more. I pop open my nightstand and retrieve the blindfold I ordered for her. Denver gives me a wild look before biting her lip and taking a deep breath. “You’re doing so well. I’m very proud of you,” I encourage her. Sliding it over her eyes, I tease, “But you’ve seen enough for now. I just want you to feel.” I graze my knuckles down her bare arms and marvel at the goose flesh my touch leaves behind. I’ve never seen such an open and quick response to so simple a touch before. If she’s this enthusiastic now, I can only imagine how much more she will be later.

  I slide off the bed and move over to the docking system to cue up something on repeat that will keep us in the zone. It will also keep her reactions all for me and no other ears. “She Will Be Loved” bounces softly around the room, and I love the smile that it puts on her face.

  “You like that, baby?”

  “I do.”

  I waste no more time, sliding behind her, my knees resting beside hers. “You were so beautiful there waiting for me. It was driving me crazy knowing you were in here. Just for me,” I confess, as I run my hands along her shoulders. Like a special gift, she sits waiting for me to unwrap her. I press my lips on one shoulder and then the other.

  “Mmm …” is all I get. It makes me grin.

  “I know why I was turned-on. What has you so eager?”

  She clears her throat a little. “Are you kidding? Listening to you and Pete talking … you acting calm, yet knowing I was waiting for you … wondering what was going to happen when you returned …” She sucks in a quick breath when I bite at her shoulder blades before placing light kisses, soothing the little welts.

  “Denver,” I groan, snapping a silk strap. “I wanna take this off.”

  “I see you’re not asking, so go for it,” she quips, the bravery in her voice only belied by a slight tremor. Her little give-and-take thing stirs me like nothing else.

  “No, I’m not asking. Just giving you a head’s up,” I whisper. An enticing image fills my mind, and instead of undoing the bra, I slide the straps down her arms. I run my lips up and down her neck, enjoying the slight quiver of her skin. My fingertips skate up her arms and across the lace barely covering the tops of her breasts. Finding that little place behind her ear, I suck and tease as my fingers do the same below. She drops her head back to my shoulder, so I can see the rise and fall of her breaths under my hands. Denver lets me play for a minute before moving her body up and down mine as much as she can.

  I love that she can’t help herself, but I admonish, “Nuh, uh. Be still, baby.”

  She lets out a tortured growl, and I barely keep myself from chuckling, telling her instead to shh …

  Once she settles down, I push the cups of her bra under her breasts so that they spring up and are mine for the taking. Biting my lip to keep from devouring her, I mold my hands around them to massage and stroke. “Perfect. Beautiful,” I whisper.

  I pull myself away to stand beside the bed for a moment, watching her try to be still, her fists clenching the blanket.

  “Lie back,” I order.

  She complies, and I give myself a minute of treasuring her lying in my bed. Mine. My bed. My girl.

  “I gotta say, I’m glad I held out.”

  “Held out?” she whispers.

  “You’re the only girl I’ve had in my bed, Denver.” It sounds like a silly confession to make, but it seems like the right one. That’s confirmed when her body trembles and relaxes in quick succession.

  “You’re certainly the only man to ever see me like this,” she says with a smile. “On my knees. Blindfolded. Waiting. Yeah, no other … ” she trails off, her voice growing with need.

  “Only me … ” I stop short of adding forever. Not that that’s not the reality, but she may bristle at that. It was one of her hard limits—no talk of forever.

  I lie down beside her, taking one soft nipple in my mouth—hard. She gasps and writhes, so I pull the other between my two fingers, teasing it and feeling it elongate, right along with the one in my mouth. Her soft whimpers drive me mad with desire. Desire to see her come apart under me.

  Pulling back slightly, I blow a warm breath over her tight little bud before giving it a long lick. Grasping her hands, I shift them over her head with a command for her to leave them there. Her mumbled, “Yes, John,” has me squirming, and I want to rut against her leg. But I know better than to tempt myself too much. “If I can’t make you come doing this, I don’t deserve you.” Without waiting for a response, I go back to making a meal of her. I move over her, pushing her thighs open with mine, and barely brush my chest over her heightened breasts, earning me another gasp and a multitude of incoherent murmurings.

  “What’s that, baby? You like?”

  “Yes,” she hisses.

  I lower myself to my elbows and continue my assault on the needy, little thing beneath me. Pushing her breasts together, I alternate between biting and nipping at them before placing soothing kisses and licks. My praise for her falls readily from my lips, and only a few more minutes pass before I feel her bow up under me and squirm. I press my hard length against her thigh for an instant. She shamelessly rubs her lower half against my chest, my name becoming a plea and a prayer from her lips. I reach up and push her blindfold off so that I can watch her coming undone. Her head falls back, but she keeps her eyes on mine as I pinch and twist one nipple, laving the other with kisses. I wring every last bit of pleasure out of her.

  “Oh,” she cries, arching her back again before collapsing back to the bed, her limbs quivering like Jell-o. “Oh my God,” she mewls.

  “Shh …” I soothe, kissing my way up her neck and taking her mouth in a sweet kiss. She surrenders to me, allowing me to plunge in for a taste. The urge to dip lower and verify that she tastes just as sweet elsewhere, nearly has me coming in my jeans.

  I pull back to find her bright eyes shining like melted honey. “That was amazing,” she whispers.

  “You’re amazing,” I offer.

  “No, I’m afraid that was all you. Wow, Ransom,” she marvels, her eyes shining bright like the burnishing sun.

  I refrain from rearing up and beating my chest like a caveman and settle for a smug grin as I lie on my back and pull her around me. She drapes an arm and a leg over me. I run my hand over her hair, and it isn’t long before I hear her breathing even out.

  Closing my eyes, I let the last remnants of the day melt away.

  Chapter Seven

  Denver

  OF ALL THE things Greer and I had done, not one had me as hot and bothered as what Ransom had just done to me—deeply intimate and life changing are the words that spring to mind.

  Maroon 5 still plays softly in the background, along with Ransom’s deep, steady breathing. Opening my eyes, I glance at the clock to note I actually didn’t sleep all that long. I feel like a cat, itching to stretch and languidly run my tongue, not over myself, but over my mate. I grin and sit up gingerly, my breasts tender. A blush steals over my cheeks as I see I’m still exposed, and I burn brighter seeing the little love bites. I tuck myself in and shift so that I can look down at my rugged bull rider. The arm that wasn’t wrapped around mine rests over his eyes so that I can see the definition of one of his tattoos. I’d caught a peek of the deep purple irises before, but now I can see the name Karen artfully wrapped around the stems of the flowers.
A twinge of jealousy sneaks its way through me, before I remind myself that I have no right to feel that particular emotion. Pulling my eyes from it, I focus my gaze on his very appealing chest, and can’t resist running my fingers through the sparse, dark hair. My lips immediately follow suit.

  Ransom’s breaths come quicker, bringing a smile to my face, as I ghost my lips over his pecs. My nose tingles with the crisp, cool scent of winter. I work my way down the light trail of soft, brown hair. I glance up at him under my lashes to spot a small smile and tightly closed eyes. Kissing my way across his abs, I have a sudden thought that I should take my ministrations a little lower and show him the same kind of pleasure he treated me to earlier. I’ve never done that, nor have I ever had the inclination. It always seemed way more personal than straight-up sex, which is a weird thought. That naughty idea causes something to clench and unclench rapidly, as my own breaths speed up. A rush of fear causes me to tremble slightly, because I have no idea how to transition to that, but God, do I want to taste him. My tongue darts out on that thought and sweeps across the skin just above his jeans. I curl my hand to run my knuckles over his jean-covered, and—oh my God—hard length.

  Ransom’s sharp intake of breath and his sudden movement surprise me. He’s staring down at me and has my hand caught in a vise, effectively squeezing the life out of my fantasy.

  “Denver, what do you think you’re doing?”

  I plant another kiss on his navel before answering. “I wanted to do something for you,” I hedge.

  His hands grasp me under my arms, and I’m catapulted upwards, his mouth is on mine, and I’m on my back pinned under him before I can take another breath. He buries his face in my neck, allowing me to suck in a quick breath.

  “Fuck, you are so sexy,” he moans into my neck before sweeping back up to my lips. I fit my arms around him and wrap one leg around his thigh. My body arches into his while he devastates all my other senses with his mouth.

  Laughing, he pulls back and runs a hand over my hair. I love the smile that waits in those sea-green eyes of his. He cups my jaw and traces my kiss-swollen lips with his thumb. I place a light kiss on the pad. “We need to get out of this bed, or I’ll never let you leave it,” he threatens. Still, he doesn’t move an inch.

  “Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” I laugh lightly.

  His eyes travel down to run over me, still clad only in my underwear. He nods appreciatively before returning with a more serious gaze. “You feeling OK with what happened earlier?”

  “Of course. It was wonderful.” I bunch my eyebrows. “Do you regret it?”

  “Hell no,” he promises. “But we don’t keep score.”

  And I can’t resist. I buck my hips against his. “No tat for tit?”

  “Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?” he laughs. “Just because I do something for you, you’re not obligated to return the favor.”

  “Oh, I don’t feel obligated. More like inspired,” I taunt.

  He drops his lips to my collarbone, kissing his way down to the dip, where he sucks and nips before propelling himself from the bed. “Seriously, my control only goes so far,” he says gruffly, rubbing his hands over his face and head.

  “Oh, I like the idea of making you lose control, Ransom.”

  “I just bet you do,” he bites out playfully, dragging me to the end of the bed by my ankles. “I have homework to do, you little walking temptation. I’m going jump in the shower first. Meet me in the living room?”

  I can only nod since his lips are firmly pressed against mine. He grabs some shorts and leaves me sitting breathless on his bed. I throw myself back for a minute and focus on breathing. That man. I can’t believe he made me orgasm just by playing with my breasts. That’s incredible. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I laugh at myself before sitting up and throwing my clothes back on. I wonder if I should stay. My homework is all caught up, but I could catch up on some pleasure reading while he works, I guess.

  I hear his shower cut off, so I quickly make my way to the kitchen to put on a pot a coffee, since I know that’s his evening routine. He’s such an old man in some aspects, but then completely innovative in other ways. I wonder again who Karen is. I’m scared to know the answer though. Austin and Pete had only mentioned a Victoria before, but that doesn’t really mean anything. I frown at the coffee pot as though its slow perking is the reason my idle brain drifts to troubling concepts. I busy myself, opening the cabinet to grab a couple of mugs.

  “You’re staying?” I jump a little at the question, completely lost in my own head.

  “If that’s all right?” I ask, without turning.

  His hands fit over my hips, and he kisses the top of my head before reaching over me to grab the cups. “I’d like that,” he replies quietly.

  After filling two cups, we make our way into the living room. Ransom sets his coffee on the end table and grabs his laptop before situating himself on the couch. I take out the notes from my history class and debate over whether I should run through them one more time or read my romance novel. After a minute, my hot little book wins out. The cover of this one isn’t so bad, so I should be able to escape unnoticed while reading it.

  Grabbing my coffee, I walk back toward the couch. I decide not to be a distraction, because if it’s one thing I’ve learned about Ransom, he takes his studies seriously. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise from my intense cowboy. Setting my cup beside his, I lower myself to sit on the floor between his legs.

  Chapter Eight

  Ransom

  MY FINGERTIPS HOVER over the keyboard for a few minutes, waiting for her to say something or move or … something. But nothing. She cracks her book open and begins reading without a care in the world, sitting Indian-style at my feet.

  I try to speak, but I have no words. Does she even get what that little action says about us? Probably not, which makes it all the more intriguing. She’s just naturally that way with me, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I clear my throat. “Comfortable?” I finally ask.

  “Yeah,” she tosses over her shoulder. “You good?”

  “Yep, all good. I thought you liked to read from your e-reader.”

  “I do, but sometimes there’s just nothing like the feel and smell of the real thing.”

  I grin. “Smell?”

  “Yep,” she says without elaborating.

  I get back to work for a while. The sounds of her flipping pages, me typing, and us stealing sips of coffee are the only things that fill the air. When she leans her head against my knee, shifts, and curls her legs around mine, all activity in the northern region of my body comes to a slamming halt. She must sense something, or the absence of something, because she tilts her head back and examines me for a minute.

  “My mom’s sick,” I blurt out. Her face falls, and I feel like a moron. I didn’t mean to tell her that way. This afternoon’s activities, and our comfortable silence, have lulled me into a peaceful place—one where I can finally talk to her about things I wouldn’t with many others. “Umm … she has cancer, and for a while there, it wasn’t looking good.”

  Denver rises and places her book on the table before moving my laptop over to the couch. She comes to rest on my lap, her legs on the couch. Wrapping her arms around me, she squeezes me before finding me again with her eyes. “Ransom, I’m so sorry. You said wasn’t looking good. Is she better now?”

  “Well, she’s stronger and things are looking good, but she’s still got a ways to go. I wanted to tell you sooner, but with everything going on, it just didn’t feel right.”

  “You mean, you let my problems take center stage,” she admonishes with a shake of her head. “I didn’t want to push, but I figured things were rocky with both of your parents from the few things you said. Ransom, you have to know that you can talk to me. Anytime. Don’t let my stupid bullshit get in the way of what you need.”

  My laugh is strained. “Stupid bullshit? I think it’s a little more than that. You deserved to ha
ve my full attention.”

  Her eyes instantly mist over. “Thank you for that, but it has to be a two-way street. I want to be here for you too. Tell me something about your mom.”

  “Ah … Karen Ransom … where do I start?” She grins big.

  “What?” I ask, mirroring her grin.

  “Your tattoo. It’s for your mom not some … ”

  “Girl?” I finish, and she bites her lip. “You could’ve asked. Would it have mattered?” If she feels possessive over me, that’s real progress. Despite the fact that she used Greer for sex, she’s never really taken anything for herself. The thought that she wants me all for her own, spreads throughout my limbs like a drug-induced euphoria.

  “Yes, I’m thrilled the irises are for your mom and not some other girl who’d stolen into your heart and may still have a hold on you.” She blows out a breath. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  I waggle my eyebrows at her. “Were you jealous, Denver?”

  Her hands tighten on my biceps. “Undeniably.”

  “I like you all territorial. But I can assure you, there’s no one to be jealous over.”

  “All right. My ego has been stroked. So, tell me about your mom.”

  “Well, I got the irises the day after we got her diagnosis. I came home all taped up, and she was rantin’ and ravin’ about me tattooing my pretty skin. Besides my father, it’s the only thing we’ve ever really fought about. But I told her I thought she’d like this one. ‘Oh, no. Your charms won’t work on me, Johnny. I won’t like it. I can assure you,’ she promised me. I whipped off the bandage and told her they were her forever irises. No matter the weather, they would always be there, as would I. I told her all of my tattoos were important, but this one was the most important of all.” I laugh as I recall her guarded expression. “‘Well, I just feel sorry for your future wife is all,’ she said, unimpressed. I asked her if that’s because the poor thing would be stuck looking at my body art forever.”