“Why did you stick around?” The question spills from my mouth before it’s a conscious thought.
His answer is a long time coming. Covering my hand with his, he says, “How could I not? You’re special to me, Joesphine. You give me something I haven’t had in a long time. Hell, I’m not sure I’ve ever had it, but it feels right.”
“What’s that?” I ask, angling my head back to look at him.
He tilts his head down and kisses my mouth. “Feelings, Joe. You make me feel things I know I shouldn’t, but that I can’t stop. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
I know what he means. Although, I don’t think either of us has really tried all that hard. Lust—it’s one of the deadliest sins. “Feelings don’t always make sense.”
“I don’t think they’re supposed to.” He pauses, his hand tightening around mine. “I want you to come back to my place, spend the night.”
“I thought…” Surprised, my words trail off. It feels like we’re in a bubble right now. A bubble that’s in danger of bursting if I don’t choose my words carefully.
“That I didn’t want you there,” Ransom finishes for me, and I nod. Easing me off of him, he sits up and rakes a hand through his damp hair. Drawing my knees up to my chest, I huddle into myself as I wait for him to continue.
Sex looks good on him. His skin is flushed, his lips a deeper shade of red and plumped from my kisses, and his clothes are rumpled and twisted in a way that makes me want to ravage him all over again.
Turning his head, Ransom pins me with a look. “It’s not that I didn’t want you there. I just didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“And now you do? Ransom, nothing’s changed. I’ll still be your student in the morning.”
Lying back against the seat, he drops his head back and stares up at the stars through the foggy glass. The position highlights the corded muscles lining the sides of his neck and the Adam’s apple that moves up and down enticingly with each swallow.
“I thought about what you said. Being together presents some risks, but being apart?” His head rolls to the side and his dark eyes find mine. “I can find a job anywhere, Joe, but there’s never going to be another you.”
My lungs constrict, making it difficult to breathe properly. I don’t think anyone has ever spoken anything as beautiful as that to me before.
“I don’t know what this is between us is or where it’s headed,” he continues, his gaze focused overhead. “There’s already a black mark on our record, and for all I know, we’ll change our mind again in the morning, or maybe a week from now or a month. What I do know is that I like this”—he gestures between us—“I like how I feel when we’re together. Life is too short to miss out on the things that make us feel good, make us feel alive, and I feel so alive with you.”
“And if someone does find out that we’re together, what then? Are you going to be okay if you lose your job over me?”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we have to.” He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me over to cover his body with mine. Cupping the back of my head, he holds me against his chest, and when he speaks, I feel the warmth of his breath in my hair. “The only thing that matters right now is this, right here, right now.”
I wiggle closer, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. This is one of those rare, perfect moments in time that life occasionally hands out. It would be so easy to just give into it and enjoy it for what it is, but I’ve experienced them a couple times before. I know not to trust them. There is such a thing as something being too perfect, too right. When all the pieces of the puzzle seem to be in place, that’s the time to sit up and pay attention.
I can feel it in the air, like the kind of calm that comes before a tornado touches down and destroys everything. I don’t know what form it’s going to take, but I know one thing for sure.
A storm is coming.
TWENTY-TWO
After a couple more rounds of lovemaking, Ransom is out. He snores. Soft, whispers of sound that rumbles subtly in his chest. I’m in his bed, in his apartment, folded up in his arms, and I can’t fall asleep. It should be the simplest thing to do, but every time I try, my eyes flip open as if they’re spring loaded.
It could be because I am used to keeping late hours at the club, or because my mind is churning over everything that happened tonight and the inability to predict what lies ahead of us tomorrow. But my money is on what’s going on beyond the bedroom because, about an hour ago, I heard someone enter the apartment.
They came in through the front door, their keys clanking against a hard surface, suggesting to me that whoever it is isn’t an intruder. But who is it? A roommate? Ransom never mentioned having one, but then again, there are still a lot of things I don’t know about the man whose bed I’m sharing.
Curiosity picks away at my patience. I want to go investigate, but I don’t dare. Do I? It’s not my place. How will Ransom and this other person respond to my snooping around? Besides, Ransom’s arms around my waist are tethering me to him and the bed and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to slip free without waking him.
I don’t know how much time I spend lying there, listening to this mystery person move around the apartment. I track their footsteps from the front of the apartment, where they spend some time in the kitchen making all kinds of muffled racket that I’d probably never notice if I had already been asleep.
The television plays on low for a time, and then the footsteps carry down the hall, past the bedroom door, and into the bathroom. I tense as I listen to every minute sound—running water in the sink, the hiss of the shower, the flushing of a toilet. All normal things people do to get ready for bed. I listen until my eyelids grow heavy—the constant rush of the water serving as a lullaby.
I finally fall asleep after everything goes quiet and the footsteps disappear down the end of the hall where a door, that had been closed when we arrived, opens and shuts again.
Hours later, when the alarm goes off, I feel like someone has piled a load of bricks on my chest and legs and taped my eyelids shut. I moan my refusal to get up and turn over, burying my head beneath the pillow. Ransom’s body covers mine from behind, his soft chuckle in my ear as he nuzzles me making me squirm.
“Time to get up. Don’t want to be late for school,” he taunts.
“I’m not going today. Tell them I’m sick.”
Hands wandering down my naked body, he kisses the back of my neck. “Sorry, but sexual exhaustion is no excuse to slack on your education, young lady.”
“Please,” I whine as he rolls me over and positions himself between my slack thighs. He looks up at me, a wicked smile twisting his lips up at the corners.
“Nope, but I know something that will wake you up.”
“Ransom!” I gasp and my fingers delve into his hair as his mouth forms a seal over my clit. His tongue flicks back and forth, and the hands cupping my butt lift my hips, pulling me closer so he can bury his face in me.
His fingers penetrate my opening as he continues to lap at me, and my hips buck uncontrollably as he brings me to the fastest climax I’ve ever had. I lay there, boneless and breathless for what feels like an eternity. I used to think that orgasms were a rare phenomenon, but Ransom’s quickly proving that theory wrong.
When I finally manage the strength to open my eyes, Ransom is pulling on a pair of jeans.
Leaning over me, he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a smack. His dark eyes dance with mirth as he pulls away and backs toward the door. “I’m going to start breakfast. Join me when you can walk again.”
Damn him, that cocky bastard. When he’s gone, I stare up at the ceiling wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. My mind spirals down a dangerous path of what-if scenarios until even I am sick of hearing the insecure thoughts running around in my head. Last night, when I got into the backseat of my car with him, I decided that there was no more running from this. No more indecisive bullshit. If we’re going to make an honest go of it, then I can’t walk away at the first bump to appear in the road.