Page 51 of Ravaged With You

“I’m sad they aren’t coming,” I say. “I’d love to see them both again, and I was really hoping to practice on your mom.”

“You’ve been practicing sign language?” I hear real surprise in his voice.

“A little. I’m trying to not forget the basics, then expand a bit beyond that.”

We’re at a light, and he turns to look at me, a question in his eye. “Why?”

I can only shrug. The real answer is because it was important to him. What I say is, “I want to learn it. I’ve been practicing since college, you know that.” I’m not good, but I can communicate. Sort of. I’m like a first-year French student in a Paris tourist restaurant where the staff speaks perfect English.

Red keeps his gaze on me for a little bit longer than necessary, so long that the person behind us honks when the light turns green. As he accelerates, I ask my other question.

“Is your dad coming?”

“He’s not invited. If it were a typical wedding, he might be invited to the ceremony, but it’s just going to be Renly and Abby. And Renly isn’t interested in having him at the party afterwards.”

“Right. I forgot.” Red and his father have a decent relationship now, but their dad walked out on them when they were kids, and it made for some rocky times. Red patched it up with his dad, but not Renly. And then, when Renly joined the service right out of high school despite his father telling him it was a horrible idea, it drove that wedge deeper.

“Renly didn’t like being told what to do, especially by a man who’d proved he didn’t much care about us when he walked away. And Dad doesn’t like being ignored. They can be civil now, but ... well, I can’t blame my brother. Dad was absent for most of our lives.”

“You repaired the relationship.”

“True, but I reached out on purpose. It was my choice. Not reaching out is Renly’s.”

“I get that. But I’m glad that you did. And envious too. It’s hard for me not to criticize Renly’s choices, you know?”

He reaches over and squeezes my hand, knowing full well that I’ve always been a bit jealous that his absentee father at least kept in touch, even sporadically. And his mom’s still alive. “You’ve got a different perspective. But everyone does. It would be pretty boring if we were all the same.”

I manage a smile to push away the melancholy. “Yeah. It really would.”

When we arrive at my place, Red parks in the driveway behind my car. We get to the front door, and see that among everything else, Mario has installed a shiny new lock.

I’m punching in the code when my phone rings. I pull it out, glance at it, and almost drop my phone. Red catches it as it starts to tumble from my fingers. He looks at me in shock, obviously having seen the same thing on the screen as I did—the call is from Mel’s office number.

I meet his eyes, then tap the speaker button to answer the call.

“You need to work harder,” an electronically altered voice says. “Think harder. Otherwise we may decide we don’t need your help at all.”

I see a red dot appear on the door in front of me. For a moment I’m confused, then the dot moves to me. My mouth goes dry and my pulse pounds in my ears as I look down and see the dot on my white tee.

Suddenly I’m slammed backwards, and Red is in front of me, his body crushing mine against the side of the house, blocking me. Protecting me. “You know damn well I’m the one with the best chance of finding this thing,” Red says, still talking to the speakerphone. “You hurt her, you lose me.”

“I don’t believe that, Mr. Cooper. But if you work faster, then maybe we won’t have to see which one of us is right.”

I can’t see anything from behind Red, so I don’t know if the laser dot is gone. We stay that way for a moment, completely still, until Red finally moves forward, giving me room to breathe.

He turns and punches in my code, so hard I’m surprised the little numbers don’t crush into dust. I can see the rage boiling inside him; it’s practically coming off in waves.

He takes my hand, pulling me so that I stumble inside, surprised by the urgency since the threat is gone. He follows me, slams the door, and the next thing I know my back is flat against the closed door, and his mouth is hard against mine.

I’m melting. Completely melting, and I want this so much. I want to work away the fear, the loss the anger. I want everything he’s giving, and I want to give everything he’s taking.

He’s touching my face, his calloused fingertips rough on my skin. His eyes meet mine, then trail over my entire body as if he can’t believe I’m here. I gasp, his intense inspection like the most intimate of caresses.

“Red,” I begin, but he cuts me off with a kiss so deep I feel it all through my body. His hand goes to my neck, holding me in place so tight I can barely breathe. Then his other hand slides down inside my leggings to cup my bare sex, and I almost come right then.

I’m already so wet, and I moan as he thrusts his fingers inside me, hard and deep, his kiss mimicking the way he’s finger-fucking me. I’m trapped, immobile, needy, and desperate for more.

I try to shift my hips, so desperate for his touch, wanting—needing—to grind against his hand. Needing that release. But I’m trapped, completely at his mercy. It’s heady and glorious, and all I want is more.