Once our meal was finished, I stood with renewed purpose, ready to tackle my concerns with Ren, but John asked for Ren’s opinion on a new grass seed, and Cassie dragged me to her room where I learned yet more about her on and off again relationship with Chip the accountant.
From proposals to pregnancies to births and break-ups, I saw how much she cared for him and how glad she was they were giving it another chance.
The entire time she spoke, all I could think about was Ren. How he’d never once let me down, even when things weren’t perfect between us. How he’d always put me first, even when we’d had nothing to our names.
And how, here in a place that meant so much to both of us, everything that we’d created had been threatened, all because the past dared mingle with our present, making me wonder and worry.
And so, I’d had a third glass of wine before bolting from the farmhouse and cutting across the driveway—the same driveway I’d run across so many times before—and paced our bedroom, needing to end whatever distance was between us.
I missed him.
I missed him more than I could stand.
For twenty minutes, I’d paced before resorting to sitting on the beds.
I’d been waiting for an hour.
Waiting for a way to stop feeling so lost and alone and cast aside.
The door opened fifteen minutes later, swinging wide as Ren prowled in with a hand buried in his hair as if already stressed about sleeping in a room with me.
“You’re back.”
My voice wrenched his eyes up, squinting in the dark. I hadn’t bothered to turn on a light as dusk steadily became night. I knew I seemed creepy, sitting cross-legged, hands tightly linked in my lap, my heart terrified and temper fuming, but I couldn’t help it.
I’d reached my limit and we needed to talk.
“Della, what the hell are you doing?” Ren flicked on the overhead light, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Okay.” He frowned. “I’m here.”
“You are.” Unravelling my legs, I hopped off the bed and moved toward him. “A week ago, you refused to kiss me. Since then, you’ve barely touched me. I feel like you’re avoiding discussing—”
“I haven’t been avoiding anything.” He straightened. “And I have touched you. We fall asleep touching every night. Plus, you know why we haven’t talked—there just hasn’t been the right time.”
“Now is the right time.”
He sighed. “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s wait until morning so we don’t say things we might regre—” A cough interrupted him.
My heart grew hot with dismay. “See? There you go again. Avoiding this. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” His nostrils flared. “I think you’ve wound yourself up and should calm down before—”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child anymore, Ren. You can’t command me and expect me to obey.” Storming toward him, I stood on my tiptoes and slammed my lips to his.
I wanted to fight.
The frightened part of me needed it.
His mouth yielded to mine for just a second before he pulled back…just like before.
My heart cracked.
“Della. Stop.” He had the audacity to raise his hand and wipe his mouth as if what I’d done wasn’t permitted. As if the past two years of countless sex, endless kisses, and numerous I love you’s had never happened.
For a second, I wanted to run.
Another second, I wanted to hit him.
And then, in a final second, I nodded, accepted my hurt, and prepared to fight for what was mine.
“I won’t let you do this.” Stepping into him, I grasped his belt, tugging quickly at the leather. “I miss you, Ren. I want you. I’m worried about you and feel like you’re not—”
“Della…” He tripped backward as I worked on unbuckling him, crossing the small room until his back smashed against the door, and I trapped him. “Della—”
I didn’t stop until I unthreaded the leather and yanked the buckle free, discarding both ends the instant they were undone. “Don’t ‘Della’ me. You know what you’re doing, and it isn’t fair.” My fingers attacked his button then reached for his zipper in record time.
“What I’m doing?” His large, warm hand landed on mine, stopping my progress, gripping me hard. “How about what you’re doing?”
“I thought that was obvious.”
“You’re upset.” His fingers twitched around my wrist, his eyes shouting their love but his body rigid with refusal. “I get it. I know it’s my fault, but whatever you’re doing isn’t the way to fix—”
“Please.” I bit my lip, stemming sudden tears. “Please prove to me that nothing has changed when it’s all I can worry about. Please let me make love to the only man I’ve ever wanted. Please convince me that this fear inside—this fear that is slowly growing—is completely crazy and irrational. I need to know you’re okay. I need to know we’re okay. I need—” I stopped as a cry spilled from my lips, revealing just how knotted I was over this.
Over our distance.
Over childhood fear that he didn’t want me anymore.
Over adult terror that life wasn’t infinite like fairy-tales but a war for every moment.
“Fuck.” He let me go only to wrap me in his strong embrace. “Nothing has changed, Little Ribbon. I promise.”
“Prove it.” I stayed stiff in his arms. “Sleep with me.”
A tormented chuckle bubbled in his chest. “I’m not taking advantage of you when you’re like this. We should talk. Why didn’t you tell me you were so worried?” The softness of his worn, blue sweater was warm, the thud of his heart familiar. My body responded to what it had always considered safe, and my spine relaxed even as I fought to stay angry.
“You know I love you. How many times have I told you that? Nothing can drive us apart, Della. I know I hurt you with my knee-jerk reaction when we first arrived, but nothing has changed.”
He ducked and kissed me sweetly, tasting my tears. “See? I love you. I’m in love with you. Everything is fine.”
I blinked, lips tingling and heart smarting. “Kiss me again.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re worked up over something I don’t understand. I’m sorry about before, I truly am. But anything else you’re worried about is completely ridiculous, and I won’t be pushed into sleeping with you. Not when you’re like—”
“My fears aren’t ridiculous, Ren.”
“I didn’t mean they were.”
“Is it ridiculous that I love you so much I can barely breathe at the thought of losing you?”
“What?” Temper lashed through his voice. “Why the hell would you lose me?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Is this about Cassie?” His eyes blackened. “Don’t you trust me?” His question was soft but lethal, daring me to give light to my terrors when, up until a few days ago, I trusted him with my life.
I sighed, defeated and fully aware I was at fault. “Of course, I trust you.”
“So, you’re not driving yourself insane thinking I’m going to leave you for Cassie?”
I flinched. “I won’t deny it was hard at first, but I know what we have supersedes all that.”
“Then…” His head tilted, hair caressing his forehead. “What is this really about?”
“It’s about us.” I shrugged helplessly. “It’s about me needing you and…and I don’t like this distance between us.” I looked down. “I was wrong to keep our relationship a secret. The longer we don’t tell people, the more I worry it’s even real.”
His finger tipped my chin up. “It’s real, Della. More real than anything in the world.”
“I needed to hear that.” I half-smiled.
He tucked a curl behind my ear. “You’re forgetting you’re the one who
wanted to hide. I wanted to tell everyone the truth.”
“I was wrong.” Reaching for him, I brushed my mouth on his. “Please…take me to bed. Let’s just forget I made a mess of this.”
I chickened out.
I’d picked this fight to address that annoying little cough.
I’d stewed in stress so I would have the guts to order him to see a doctor.
But, somehow, none of that mattered anymore.
I just wanted him.
Inside me.
Around me.
With me.
Our lips touched before he shook his head with a soft groan. “I can’t sleep with you in this room, Little Ribbon.”
My eyes snapped wide. “Why?”
“There are too many memories here.”
My heart fluttered, tasting progress. “So? Memories are just memories.”
“Memories have a way of driving me insane.” His tongue wet his lips, his gaze drawn to my mouth. His voice denied me, but his body reacted. “So many memories of so many things between us.”
“But don’t you see?” My hand landed on his chest, sliding down until I pressed my palm against his erection. “That’s why we need to make new ones.”
He hissed between his teeth. “Stop.”
My bravery at addressing so many things had flown out the window, but I wouldn’t let him deny me. Not in this. Not when we desperately needed to connect.
“I want you, Ren.” Sinking to my knees, I tugged his jeans and boxers down in one smooth glide. They bunched around his knees as his cock bounced free.
I didn’t hesitate.
I licked him, inserting him into my mouth.
“Fucking hell.” His hand fisted in my hair, holding me tight as he crippled under my control. “Della.” His belly clenched as he rolled over me, hugging my head as I licked and sucked, doing my best to shatter him.
For a second, I thought I’d won.
He sucked in a wobbly breath, his body swelling in my mouth.
But then that damn side of him that protected me at all costs resurfaced and, with a savage growl, he pushed me away. “Della…no.” He staggered sideways, tripping to the centre of the bedroom, doing his best to hoist up and rearrange his jeans. “Are you trying to kill me, woman?”
His anger and denial hurt, but not the same as before.
I kind of understood now.
I sort of finally saw.
This wasn’t about me at all.
This was about this room.
This place.
I thought I’d had it hard here.
That lying in bed jealous and petty was painful.
But really…I hadn’t.
Yes, Ren had always been forbidden, but at least, he hadn’t been a mortal sin.
Me…on the other hand.
If Ren had felt the slightest tug toward me—a tug that overstepped even the smallest of margins…then I could understand why this room wasn’t just a room.
Because I hadn’t just been a girl he wanted; I had been a child.
A child who meant more to him than anything else in the world.
A living, breathing nightmare.
This room had become his judge and executioner, its very walls, furniture, and windows condemning him for every dream he might have had, for every fanciful wish, for every fleeting thought.
God, I’m sorry.
Pushing off my knees, I let go of my anger. I drowned in apology. I moved toward him as gently and as carefully as I could because he was spooked and hurting, and I’d been the one to do it.
“You truly did love me, didn’t you?” I whispered.
His gorgeous coffee eyes widened, his chest rising and falling. “Of course, I love you.”
“That wasn’t what I said.” Pressing my fingers to his heart, I hated that he flinched. That his sun-bronzed hair shivered as he stayed tight and wound as if he’d bolt at any moment. “You loved me more than you should, even before I kissed you.”
His face contorted. “I-I loved you as a brother.”
“No, you loved me as something more.” Tears trickled down my face at the truth—the exquisite, agonising truth. I wrapped my arms around his waist, not caring he still had his jeans bunched in one hand, hiding his decency. “I’m sorry, Ren.”
He rippled with stress, not hugging me back. “Della, I—”
Those two words were an arrow, shooting from the bow of his mouth, ricocheting around the room until they punctured us through the heart.
In their simplicity, they admitted everything.
His head came down and his lips sought mine with a level of devotion and need that transcended time and logic. His arms banded around me, fierce and possessive. And the ice in his muscles cracked, melted, and cascaded away in a waterfall of released tension.
“I didn’t realise until we’d left.” Burying his face in my hair, his entire body quaked as if this was his true confession. “I didn’t know. You have to believe me. I was a kid. You were mine. There was no other future I could think of that you weren’t there beside me.”
“It’s okay.” I stroked his back, being the rock he’d always been for me.
How had I not seen it? It wasn’t me or my kiss that made him realise there was something more.
There had always been something more.
Our love hadn’t honoured boundaries fashioned by age or circumstance. Our love had thrown us together and told us the truth way too early.
It had laughed in our face and said, ‘This is the person you will adore forever. This is the person designed, crafted, and perfected for you. But you can’t touch them. Not yet. Not for decades. Not until you’re worthy of the gift I’ve given you.’
Time, it seemed, had a nasty sense of humour.
Time had hurt Ren far worse than it had me.
“Being back here makes me wonder if I ever overstepped,” Ren murmured. “It makes me second-guess everything. Every time I touched you, what was I thinking? Every time I kissed you, what did it mean? Every time I saw you naked, was I averting my eyes like I thought, or was I watching you when I shouldn’t?”
He exhaled with a ragged groan. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know if I did right by you, or if all along I was some perverted—”
“Stop.”
He sucked in a breath, his chest heaving as if he’d run miles.
“Trust me when I say this, Ren Wild, you were and are the most honourable man I’ve ever known. I understand how you could second-guess. I know how time can play tricks and make you remember different things. But I need you to listen now because not once did you make me feel awkward around you. Your touches were strictly brotherly. Your kisses perfectly pure. I grew up so safe and happy because I knew you adored me. I knew we were special. I knew we had something that no one else could ever steal or share. So please, Ren. Please don’t let the past damage what we have or make you fear you did anything wrong. Because you didn’t. Not a single moment was wrong. Not a single—”
He kissed me.
He clutched me close and kissed me deep, shutting me up, telling me he trusted me, assuring me he was okay.
I crumpled in his arms, submitting entirely to his hot mouth and skilful tongue.
His fingers slid into my hair, cradling me as he bowed over me, tucking me into him, doing his best to join us together in all the right ways.
On and on, we kissed.
Heads dancing.
Tongues licking.
Hearts racing.
Ren had always been a masterful kisser, but something was different about this one. Something new and honest and true.
He held nothing back.
He tasted me and let me taste him.
He commanded possession and let me possess in return.
And the entire time we kissed, I didn’t tell him what else I remembered.
How, when he was eighteen, I knew he dreamed of someone he wanted because he’d cry out in his sleep, waking me to see his young face straining with want an
d misery.
How, when he was nineteen, I knew he pleasured himself in the dark once our beds were separated and we could no longer touch, and I’d hear his soft groan as he came—the same groan I now recognised as a woman.
Ren had kept everything he was going through a secret from me, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t aware.
He was a boy.
He was human.
He was perfect.
My lips tingled from his as I reached for his undone waistband.
He shook his head, rubbing our lips together. “No—”
“Yes.”
His heart pounded harder as I pushed the material down. His face drained of colour as I broke our kiss and looked between us. There, on the bare flesh of his hipbone, with his boxers and jeans pushed low enough to reveal the splattering of hair but not enough to reveal his cock, was his brand.
The same brand I’d kissed before, licked before, pressed my cheek to and cursed my parents for what they’d done to him, all while thanking them because, in a way, they’d bought him for me.
Time had used them, too.
Time had ensured they brought us together.
The oval brand with its Mc97 glinted cruelly in the light. Running my fingertip over the scar tissue, I whispered, “This room is nothing more than a room. The only thing that means anything is you and me.” My fingers drifted to the dark warmth of his underwear, ducking down and fisting his hard length. “You can touch me, Ren. You can kiss me. There’s nothing stopping us. I want you to touch me. I need it…and I think you need it, too.”
He shuddered again, his breath short and fast, eyes wild and black. “You’re pushing me too far, Della Ribbon. I don’t know how much longer I can keep saying no.”
“Good because I want you to say yes.”
“But it’s not right.”
“It is.”
“I can’t stop thinking, ah—”
I squeezed him, making his head tip back, revealing a long, powerful throat with its five o’clock shadow and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. With his eyes closed, he strangled, “But I nursed you when you had chicken pox in that very bed. I sat in that chair as you learned about sex, and I hid just how much I didn’t know. I watched you sleep when you were still a kid. I had dreams that—”
The Girl and Her Ren Page 29
