Page 31 of All Tied Up
Who was going to do something to him?
His fingers hooked the corners of my panties, and he tugged them down slowly, sliding the satin over my thighs, then calves, before discarding the fabric with a toss.
“Open your legs for me.”
My body obediently did as he’d commanded. I already knew I’d regret this in the morning. But for now, I was weak. I needed him.
His nostrils flared as he lowered himself, then moved my legs onto his shoulders.
“Damn,” he sighed before the first swipe of his tongue shoved away all my other thoughts.
My hands fisted in the sheets as I whimpered, wishing I were stronger. That I didn’t need him so badly.
I shouldn’t be doing this. He had ghosted me for an entire month. I had no reason or explanation. But he’d not been with other women. That was something. And he was here.
A deep hum vibrated in his chest as he continued to lick at me as if he couldn’t get enough. My hips lifted from the mattress, and I let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh. If he wanted to distract me, he was doing an excellent job.
His lips trailed kisses down the inside of my thigh as his fingers dug into my flesh, tightening his hold. “Fuuuck,” he murmured. “I missed you.”
The wordsthen whywere right there on the tip of my tongue when he flicked and sucked my clit, sending me flying off into the orgasm I’d been unsuccessful at reaching without him.
“Ransom!” I cried out as the waves of pleasure rushed over me.
“That’s it. Call my name.” His growl was followed by the sound of his zipper.
Panting, I lay there, watching him shove off his jeans and boxer briefs, then rip the shirt over his head, tossing it aside while climbing onto the bed and over me. I’d had my orgasm. I should be able to think clearly. Be focused on the issue, but the sight of Ransom’s sculpted, tattooed chest and arms caging me in took my breath away. I said not one thing, but waited with anticipation. Knowing that once he was inside me, I wouldn’t feel the ache his absence had caused. I’d be whole again.
His fingers slid into my hair and fisted, and then he pulled my head back until it was tilted up, my eyes locked on him. The rigidness of his jawline and the veins sticking out in his neck as his nostrils flared made me shiver. He looked fierce, masculine, every fantasy that I’d written on paper.
Ransom was my muse. He had been since I had been sixteen years old.
“This …” he said hoarsely, then thrust his hips and slammed into me hard. His eyes closed briefly as his breathing stuttered. “Goddamn,” he murmured. “This … this is what I needed.”
I could stay like this forever. Watching him in this moment of pleasure. Knowing it was me who was giving it to him. Mybody. He wanted me. That much I could be sure of. But my heart required more. However, right now, I was taking what he was willing to let me have. I had time. We had time. He was here with me now. I had to believe that meant the past month had a reason. One that he would explain. One that made sense. Although I already knew I’d forgive him for anything.
His gaze reminded me of a thundercloud just before the storm. There was so much in that one look that I couldn’t decipher all of it. But something about it made me feel cherished. Worshipped even.
When he eased out, then back inside me, all other thoughts were gone. Just this. Us. My soul felt whole again.
Fourteen
Noa
The emptiness was so heavy that it was hard to breathe. I refused to open my eyes because when I did, I’d be faced with what I already knew. What I should have been prepared for but had been so wrapped up in the power of Ransom Carver that I wasn’t thinking straight. He’d not explained anything. Given me no reason for his silence.
I sucked in air, and my lungs burned, but it was nothing compared to the searing in my heart.
He was gone. Without a word.
I’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, wrapped in his arms. My nose buried in his neck, inhaling his scent. Lavishing in the happiness that only he brought me. Not expecting to wake up cold and alone. Desperate for a sign of hope, I listened for any sound that might tell me he was still here, although I knew, deep down, he wasn’t.
There had been a darkness in his eyes last night. I wanted to believe it was guilt for having ghosted me, but I knew it was something else. Something he wouldn’t share with me. The only talking he did last night was dirty. He praised me, my body, how I made him feel. But he didn’t say anything more. I had foolishly fallen asleep, thinking he’d be here when I woke up. Ready to talk.
Slowly opening my eyes, I stared at the ceiling. My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. Not again. He’d caused too many tears this past month. I’d let myself think the suffering was over last night. That he was back.
Turning over, I started to reach for my phone, thinking perhaps there was a text from him. A goodbye or explanation. But I stilled as my eyes met the dark sapphire jewel that glistened as the morning sun hit it.
What the hell was that?
