Page 172 of Ransom

"Promise me," I demand, still trying to get at his chest while he holds my wrists. "No kidnapping. No arranging kidnapping. No helping with kidnapping."

"Fine! I promise!" Ransom yelps, squirming away. "No kidnapping or kidnapping-adjacent activities."

"Say the whole thing."

He rolls those dark eyes at me. "I promise I won't help, participate, or arrange for anyone to take Maggie to treatment against her will."

"Thank you." I relax my hands in his grip.

The laughter fades as I realize how we're tangled together. My knee is pressed between his thighs, chest against his. His hands are warm around my wrists, and I can feel his heart pounding against mine.

"Blair." His voice has gone deep, rough.

I look up and get caught in his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, leaving just a thin ring of brown. His breath catches as I shift against him.

"You feel so fucking good," he hisses out, shifting his hips under me.

Rolling my hips, I lean in closer until our lips are almost touching. "I dreamed of you last night. And what we'd feel like. I want to know." Our timing has sucked all the way along. There's always something coming between us.

But I'm done letting everything else be more important than us and what we want. Am I scared for Maggie.

Yeah.

But right now, I’m going to shove it down. Because I’m feeling all kinds of other things too, good things. Things it’s okay to feel.

"I want you," I tell him. "I want to feel every inch of you. I want to know what making love feels like because I've neverdone that with anyone. Because I've never loved anyone but you. You're my first in all the ways that matter."

He groans and closes that last inch between us. His mouth crashes into mine, desperate and hungry. He tastes like coffee and mint and something uniquely him that makes my head spin. His hands release my wrists to tangle in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

My whole body feels electric, like every nerve ending is firing at once. I press closer, wanting more, needing more. His tongue slides against mine, and I whimper into his mouth.

One of his hands slides down my back, pulling me tighter against him. Heat pools low in my belly as his teeth graze my bottom lip. I've been kissed before, but he’s the only one who’s ever kissed me like this. Like he's trying to consume me, like he needs me to breathe. I do my best to wedge myself in his lab, my ass pressing against the steering wheel. It’s a very tight fit.

I fumble with the bottom of Ransom’s t-shirt, my fingers suddenly thick and useless. He's not faring much better, his hands trembling as he tries to unhook my bra. It's like we're teenagers again, all eager limbs and no finesse. I can't help but laugh as my ass hits the horn, the loud honk echoing through the quiet field.

"Shit!" Ransom mutters, his knees banging into the dash. He curses again, rubbing his leg, and I dissolve into giggles.

"This isn't quite how I remembered it," I say, wiping tears from my eyes.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "We were a lot smaller then."

“Yeah, we were. But we’re two intelligent, grown adults now. We should be able to figure this out.”

He grins, and his lips crash against mine in a passionate kiss. His tongue slides against mine, and I moan, my laughterforgotten. I try to wrap my arms around him and end up tangled in the seatbelt.

He pulls back, breathing hard. "This isn't working."

Before I can protest, he tosses me across the bench seat. I land with a soft "oof," my head spinning. He shoves the driver's door open, the cool afternoon air rushing in. Then he's climbing over me, knees between my legs, his hands braced on the seat behind me.

"There," he says, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Much better."

I raise an eyebrow. "Better for who? I kinda liked being on top."

He grins, leaning down to nip at my bottom lip. "Both of us, I hope. And trust me Baby, you can be on top any time you want. Later."

He kisses me again, his body pressing against mine. I can feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and I buck my hips, desperate for friction. He groans, his hands sliding up my sides, taking my shirt with them.

He pulls back just enough to tug the fabric over my head, leaving me in my bra. His gaze drops to my chest, his eyes darkening. "God, Blair," he breathes, his fingers tracing the lace edge of my bra. "You're so fucking beautiful."

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