Freed (18 page)

Walking out of the bathroom in his low-slung swimming trunks, he takes my hand and guides me from the bed. Wrapping one arm around me, he clasps my chin with the other hand. “You have nothing to worry about, little fighter. I may be all about the rush, the danger, the edge … but I don’t go in unprepared. If you’ll remember, I’m a bit of a control freak,” he jokes. Smiling, he brings his mouth to mine and gives me a light, sweet kiss before we don our robes and he leads me from the room.

When we come upon the hot springs, I gasp in wonder. I’d been to some before, of course, but not at night. Vapor rises and collides with the cold air, creating a mysterious-looking fog, but what has me mesmerized is the light that plays in the pool of water. It’s a natural light, but it brings out the brilliant, vivid green of the mineral water. And that green is my favorite—sea-foam green.

“Pretty, huh?”

Emotions clog my throat, so I just nod and follow him into the enclosed space, noting that it’s unlocked even though there’s a closed sign.

“It pays to know people,” he says, gesturing at the sign.

We both shed our robes quickly, eager to let the natural hot tub work its wonders. I tie my hair up and follow Ransom into the water. He kicks to the other side and rests his elbows on the slate that borders the water, looking utterly spent. Easing into the water, I nearly groan at how good it feels—soothing and warming. I spread my arms wide and pull them back through the water slowly, trying to absorb every bit of goodness the springs have to offer. I look back to Ransom, and he has his head back, resting on the side now.

Moving in front of him, I run my hands over his biceps, massaging the still-taut muscles. Ransom releases a deep sigh. Feeling them relax under my hands, I work my way to the other muscles in his arms, taking my time and watching the movements of his skin under mine. Ransom’s little groans of pleasure catch my attention, so I glance up to see him watching me. I love that I can make him feel good. And relaxing him has the odd, yet pleasant, side effect of relaxing me too.

Leaning in, I kiss him but pull back slightly to make him ease himself away from the wall. Using one arm to keep him in place, I use the other to paddle my way around him. I kiss his shoulders and neck and wrap my legs around him, pulling his body back against mine until we’re both resting against the wall.

Once we’re situated, I continue my massage, working the muscles in his back, neck, and chest. For a while, neither of us utters a word, and it’s a comfortable silence that speaks volumes. I’ve always loved that we have that. When my hands grow tired, I settle him back against me.

“Ransom, have you ever wondered why we’ve chosen to put ourselves on the line like this? I mean, I know barrel racing doesn’t hold the same dangers that bull riding and boxing do, but it’s not without its own set of risks. Why do we feel that need, that drive, do you think?”

He’s quiet for a few moments, clearing his throat when he finally decides on a response. “I can’t speak for everyone, but I know for me, it’s always been about the rush, the high. But more than that, I’ve realized it’s about letting go. Training myself to the best of my ability and then going all in. I know I have a tendency to need to be in control, but what we do throws all that out of the window, and there are times when I need that too. Need to be able to let go. If I don’t let go and get out of my head—if I don’t connect with the bull or with the fight—I’m screwed.”

He untangles himself from my limbs and turns to face me. “What about you?”

“You’re right about the letting go. I always feel in control of what’s happening in that arena. Even when things go wrong, I’m confident in my ability to maintain control and do what’s necessary. For someone who never felt in control, I think that appealed to me. But when I realized how good at it I was, it became about getting to the top and staying on top. Not for purely vain reasons, though, but to prove to myself that I could step up to the challenge and answer it.”

“Yep, sounds familiar,” he muses.

Thinking about all that has me wondering about yet another facet of his personality. “I get that being domineering is a part of who you are, but there are plenty of people who seek control and don’t want to dominate someone in the bedroom. Why do you think you’re like that?”

“You, not someone,” he corrects, and has me buzzing. “Why is anyone the way they are? It’s just me, what appeals to me, and what turns me on.”

“Oh,” I say, a little disappointed. Like I thought there was this big, dark reason for his preferences.

He rolls his eyes at me and ducks under the water a little, only to pop right back up. “OK,” he breathes, his voice dipping low to seductive. “So, during one of our forays into watching porn, we stumbled onto a BDSM site. I was fascinated. I thought it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. The thought of someone trusting me that much and trying so hard to please my every desire—total fucking turn on.”

My mouth had dropped at the watching porn bit. “You watched porn? With who? When?”

His laugher cuts out across the night, making me tremble. “Yes, I watched porn. With Pete. And when we were teenagers—probably seventeen.”

“Oh my God!” I groan, immersing myself to my cheeks in the water to hide my blush.

He gives me a naughty look. “Did it ever do anything for you, Denver?”

I pop back up, and the water gurgles around my protest. “Ugh, no! I haven’t watched any,” I spit out. Then decide to be a little honest. “It made me hot thinking about you watching it though.”

“Did it now?” he asks, right before a wayward finger sneaks into the side of my bikini. “Mmm …” he hums. “Yes, it did.”

I widen my stance, and Ransom thrusts his finger inside me, massaging my already wet passage. Leaning in, he runs his tongue up my neck to my ear, playfully biting the lobe. I lace my hands around his neck and thrust myself against that finger, hoping he’ll give me another.

“Probably not fair of me to ask you this now, but have you considered why you like submitting to me?”

“Ah … that’s easy, but I—”

“Can’t think straight?” he laughs.

A sigh of protest leaves me as quickly as his finger.

“We’ve got all night, baby. Tell me.”

Licking my lips, I try to focus my thoughts. “I’ve always had to be in control. With you, I don’t have to be, and I like it. You know what I need, and you give it to me so willing. Well, when it’s not about delayed gratification anyway. I can’t think of anything hotter.”

“I like that,” he whispers in that husky voice.

As always, his praise and acceptance encourage me not to hold back—to give him everything I can. “I really like that I’m the one who can give you what you need. Just thinking about it …” A shiver works its way through me. “Just thinking about pleasing you makes me crazy.”

“That’s so fucking hot,” he grounds out before wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around in the water.

“I thought you were tired,” I joke.

His low laugh rumbles against me. “I’m getting my second-wind.” Ransom squeezes my bottom, setting me on my feet. “Let’s head back.”

We emerge from the pool and dry ourselves off quickly, the cool night spurring us into action. Our walk back to the room is hurried.

Ransom enters the room first, locking up behind me. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he picks me up and unceremoniously tosses me on the bed, knocking a laugh out of me.

“I take it you want me in bed,” I quip.

“That’s right. Lie still. I’ll be right back.”

He disappears in the bathroom for a moment and reemerges in a pair of long shorts, scrubbing a towel over his short brown hair until it’s mostly dry and sticking up haphazardly on his head. Ransom gives me a long, appraising look before joining me on the bed. He stretches his long length over me, resting his head on one palm. I realize then that I’ve stretched my arms above my head, and his comment about me being a natural submissive rings true in this moment.

“I’ve dreamt of taking this bikini off of you since that first day at the creek. You remember?” I give a low hum. “I wanted to untie it with my teeth. I think I’ll do just that.”

Scooting down my body, leaving hot kisses in his wake, Ransom makes good on his fantasy and his promise before slinging the bottoms across the room. “Lift up, baby.” I arch my back, and he unties my top. I’m guessing it joins the bottoms.

He gives both of my breasts a slow, hot lick, and I can’t help arching again into his mouth. “Touch me, Denver.”

With pleasure, I run my hands down over his jaw and down to his back, squeezing and massaging, as he makes love to my breasts. When I don’t think I can take another minute, I hitch my legs around his hips and swivel mine against him, bringing my aching core as close to him as possible. Ransom shifts his body to the side, evading me and my desperation. “Ransom,
please
,” I plead.

I expect a chuckle since I’ve been reduced to a withering, begging mess, but instead, I feel his whole body shudder against me. “Since you asked so nicely,” he groans. And before I can ask again, he slowly slides two fingers inside me. I marvel at how easily they slip in. Nothing else is easy about the way he takes me after that. As soon as my body adjusts to him, his fingers are stretching me, diving and exploring, like it’s his mission to know every secret part of me.

My breathing turns ragged, my massage vicious. My nails score his back when he twists those two digits and curls them in a come hither gesture. I try to get closer to him, but the robe has worked its way down my back and restricts my movements. I have the vague thought that had been no accident. I try to plead with him again, but I can’t form any words. His mouth finds my breast again, biting gently and suckling on the nipple before laving it with his tongue and then biting harder. I couldn’t have stopped the scream that flew out of me if I’d tried. Turning his head, he rains down the same level of pleasure/pain on the other and elicits the same result. Now, I’m ready to beg for release, and Ransom must sense it because his thumb presses into my clit and rubs for a split-second before I’m screaming from my orgasm.

“Holy shit,” I mumble, as he collapses on the bed beside me.

“
Now
, I’m tired,” he mumbles back. I fit myself around him, wishing he would let me take care of him. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. God, how much longer can
he
hold out? I have to remind myself not to push. Ransom has proven time and again that he’ll give me what I want, but only when he feels it’s right and what I need. And as frustrating as it is, I have to trust him. I do trust him.

“Denver?” he calls sleepily.

“Mmm, hmm?”

“Go home with me for Thanksgiving.”

I smile against his chest. “OK.”

Chapter Sixteen

Denver

I
BOUNCE UP
the stairs to Ransom’s apartment. I’m so ready for this break, and I’m beyond thrilled that I get to spend some time with him away from school, even if we’ll be staying with his mom. My mom had actually called and begged me to come home for Thanksgiving, but I wormed my way out of it. When Ransom invited me to go home with him, I nearly passed out with relief. Going home was not something I wanted to do. First of all, I would be nearly alone the whole break. Second of all, the contact I would have would be with people I’d rather not see. In the past, most of my downtime was spent working the ranch with Greer. Well, that’s not a possibility now, and the thought of roaming around that big house and all that property without Greer, haunts me, even from here.

Thinking of Greer when I hit his floor, I glance down the hall as I usually do. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m hoping to run into him or avoid him. The whole thing is convoluted, and what I observe when I do, makes it even more so. Standing against the wall, is one Becky Tunstall, and Greer flanks her. One arm is pressed against the wall beside her. They look to be in some sort of standoff. I kind of freeze in place, not sure if I should just keep going or acknowledge them. God, Greer is about a million times better than someone like her. I know the last time we had a conversation, he said he wasn’t seeing anyone and didn’t want to see anyone. Well, that had been weeks ago. Maybe he is moving on. Just like I am. Things with Ransom were great. Being with him was easy and natural, even with all the therapy sessions he subjects me to.

I almost laugh at our latest standoff. He wants me to confront my mom with how her behavior had affected me, and try to get some kind of closure on that. One thing my mom and I had never done, was talk about our feelings, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. I snort out loud when I consider the ice queen sharing her doubts and fears with me. When the two people I had been absentmindedly observing, split apart like someone had thrown ice water at them, I’m jarred back to the matter at hand. I guess escaping unobserved is now out of the question.

Greer looks apologetic, and Becky looks downright demented with pleasure.

“Denver, it’s not what you think—” Greer begins.

Becky’s gasp cuts him off. “Isn’t that what they all say, Denver?” She rolls her eyes. “You’d think after all these years, guys could come up with something more original than that ridiculous line.”

I just want to be in my happy, little Ransom bubble. Is that too much to ask? I paste on a smile and shoot it to them both. “It’s really none of my business, y’all. Free country and all,” I mumble, waving my hand in the air.

“I would say this was your business, Denver, since we were talking about you,” Becky boasts.

“Shit,” Greer curses, running his hands over his now longer hair. It’s decidedly less curly now, and something about that tears at my heart. “Becky, I asked you to be cool.”

“Well, you know. I’m about sick of doing what people ask of me, especially on that not talking bit. If people were more forthcoming, we could avoid half the drama.”

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head on that comment. Becky wants to avoid drama? What the hell?

“Will you think about what I said?” Greer pleads.