by Nana Malone
He cursed against her lips, apparently unable to reach them, and instead, he pressed her against the door. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth.
With her braced against the door, his hands shifted and slid up under her top, cupping her breasts, kneading them, rolling his thumbs over her nipples. Lexa cried out in response. She rocked her hips into him, inviting him to go exactly where he wanted to be.
With another muttered curse, he fumbled with his belt buckle, and she reached between them to help him. This was such a bad idea on so many levels. A terrible idea. Oh, Jesus— A hot idea. So hot. She needed him inside. Batting away his hands, she used her dexterity to remove his belt and unsnap the top of his jeans.
With a series of wiggles, they were able to get his jeans past his hips. Then his boxers. He reached for her under her skirt, and hooked his thumb inside her thong. And then he made a fist. He pulled back and met her gaze with his, all the heat, and intensity, boring into her soul. And then he flicked his wrist and the thong snapped in two as if merely a rubber band. Before she knew it, the smooth head of his cock nudged her entrance.
"Lexa." His voice was part growl, part question, all Ransom.
"Yes, I need you."
He nudged the length of himself against her center and she moaned deep. All she needed was him. Him inside her, making her shake, making her want nothing else. That's what he needed. She'd think about all the consequences later. Much later. "Ransom, now, please."
"You haven't come yet. I'll hurt you."
"Do you feel how wet I am? You're not going to hurt me. I just need you inside me, now."
"Jesus, fuck, Lexa. Condom."
"I'm on the pill. Ransom, just—"
With a muttered curse, he slid the head of his cock inside, and all the way home.
"Shit," he muttered through clenched teeth. "So fucking good."
Lexa groaned. Holy hell. Had it only been days since he been inside her? She knew this was a bad idea. But she'd very deliberately, mentally walked over to the switch in her brain that governed rational thought, and clicked it off. No more thinking. Just feeling.
Against the door of his house, Ransom slowly loved her. Rocking his hips in and out. Pulling out until just the tip of him grazed her slick entrance. And he kissed her softly, slowly deepening the kiss as he slid all the way back in, stretching her wide, making her head roll back. His fingers intertwined with hers over her head, and he placed one hand on her ass for extra support.
It didn't take long. Lexa felt her body going tight. She knew what was coming. Welcomed it. Welcomed that quiet ownership. She needed this. A couple of days with him, and he had ruined her for anyone else ever again. He picked up his pace.
"Lexa come for me. I need to feel you—"
He didn't have to tell her twice. She threw her head back and screamed his name, breaking apart as he stretched her wide.
He cursed low, and tightened his grip on her ass. He let his finger gently graze the pucker, as he increased his pace faster and faster and faster, taking her deep, taking her high. And then, when her orgasm rolled into two, threatening to break her apart, he gently penetrated her with his finger as he exploded inside her. She felt every tick, every movement, every reverberation.
His finger in her ass was gentle and probing, nonintrusive, making her feel so…oh, shit—was that another—as his body stiffened inside her, and his finger gently probed and retreated, she came again.
This time, she dropped her head forward and bit into his shoulder. Letting him claim her.
Lexa went limp, she knew that she was never going to get over this. She knew that she'd made this bed for herself. Finally found the one guy who would break her forever.
Thirteen
Ransom hadn't intended to sleep with her again. That was not supposed to happen. That shit against the door? On the floor inside the house, in the shower, then finally, in his bed? None of that was supposed to happen. And now, with her in his truck as he drove her home, the silence was palpable, as was the tension.
Maybe this was just them getting it out of their systems. A last hoorah of sorts. He'd told his mother he might stick around longer, but it was probably for the best if he left to do his press gigs, and stayed in New Orleans for a while. Maybe he'd fly his mother down. She could still write from his house. Maybe they'd eat their way through the city. That was a fantastic idea. And bonus, he could run away from Lexa in peace.
Good luck with that. There's no getting her out of your blood, now.
Next to him, she sat silently, looking out the window. She'd been insistent that she wanted to go home. That she did not want to stay with him overnight. And she was right. If he'd woken, with her in his arms, he never would have let her out of his bed tomorrow. He would have kept her naked, and splayed, and spent the entire day inside of her. Definitely not conducive to getting over it. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he keep his hands off of her?
Because a part of you has been dreaming about her since you were in high school. Since she'd been the cute, quirky girl, who made him laugh. Back when the only thing he'd ever thought about was hockey, and taking care of his mom. She'd been one hell of a distraction. So he'd shut that shit down. Until he'd known that he'd be going to McGill on a full hockey scholarship. But by that point, she had a boyfriend.
So he’d worked out all his frustration on every willing and available girl at the school. Granted, back then, only one or two had been brave enough to actually sleep with him. He gotten a lot of blow job offers. There would always be a part of him that wished he had the balls to just ask Lexa out then. Maybe shit wouldn't be so confusing now.
"You're sure you're okay?" He asked.
She didn't turn to look at him. "Fine. I just want to get home."
"Lexa—"
"Don't, Ransom. Because you're going to say something, and it's likely going to piss me off, or make me wish that this thing with us was real. But we both know it's not. So it's better if you just don't say anything. The house is a mile away, we can drive in silence, I'll get out of the truck, then we never have to see each other again."
"I guess you figured out your story, then?"
She pursed her lips. "There you go again, asking personal questions like you care. I thought we just agreed that we do this in silence?"
"Fine. Suit yourself." Why couldn't she see that he was doing this for her? That he cared about her. He wanted her to be successful. He wanted her to see herself how he saw her. How he'd always seen her. But you don't have a right to tell her that. No. No, he did not. Because he was the fucked-up one who couldn't stay away from her. And he was going to ruin her.
He pulled into her driveway. "Here you are."
"Thanks," she muttered.
"Lexa, I know you're pissed. And I wish that it didn't have to be like this."
"Ransom—"
What the hell was his problem? Every time she wanted to tell him off, it made his dick instantly hard. He kissed her. His lips sliding over hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth.
"I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life. But this, this is not going to work. For either of us. You just can't see it yet."
"That's where you're wrong. I do see it. I'm already wrecked."
He kissed her again, and she leaned into it, her tongue dancing with his. Before he knew what they were doing, the lightning and fire exploded between them. He pulled her close, sliding his hand up her leg, to the soft juncture between her thighs, and lo and behold, she was already wet. Ready.
All he had to do was pull her over to the driver seat, sink into her deep, and he would be in blissful heaven again. For the second time tonight. He stroked her gently, knowing she had to be sore. His hands gently fisted in her hair, and she moaned. His dick pulsed against his jeans, begging for an exit, as if to say, "Put me in, Coach."
But then Lexa tore away. "Jesus, Ransom. Enough. I have tortured myself enough. I can't do this with you. My battery-operated boyfriend is going to g
et a lot of use for the foreseeable future. Possibly forever. But I am not sleeping with you again. Because then I'll be an addict and begging for it. I'm done."
She pushed open the door of the truck and ran across the lawn to the front door.
He could only watch in frustration when she didn't look back. When she opened the door, and closed it, turning on the lights in the front hall, he leaned back in his seat. Shit.
He was home in a matter of minutes. The moment he opened the door though, he missed her.
How was it that every part of his own sanctuary reminded him of her? That was hardly fair. Even the damn game room. All he could think about was the hours they spent down here, as he explained hockey, and they tried to play a little. Hell, her scent was still in the air.
Something on the wall caught his attention. One of his medals was in the wrong place. He remembered Lexa touching them, asking questions about them, but she hadn't taken any off, had she? He moved it to its correct location, and gave up the ghost. Trying to blow off steam was not going to work when the whole house smelled like her.
Only one thing was going to do the trick, and that was seeing her again. Maybe he could just talk to her, maybe they could be friends. Liar. He could do that, not that he was completely obsessed with her or anything. They could be friends. Friends who have previously seen each other naked. No big deal.
Who the hell was he kidding? He was such a goner. It was like he was going through withdrawals. He had to stay strong. Sooner or later, he’d get over it. Maybe it was a good idea to put some distance between the two of them. Because right now, being in Hope, he was far too tempted.
That's enough. It's time to stop. Get the hell out of Dodge, and leave Lexa Carlisle the hell alone.
Lexa dragged the pillow over her head to cut out the harsh ringing of her alarm. Dammit, why did the world have to intrude?
After several attempts at snoozing the alarm, to no avail, she belatedly realized it was the phone ringing. Reaching over several more inches, she picked it up from where she'd been charging it. Ella. She'd call her later. She declined the call and rolled over again, pulling the blanket with her.
She'd slept fitfully after Ransom dropped her off. She was exhausted, and, like a moron, she missed him. No. You do not miss him. You will be just fine without him. She was just going to pack up her stuff and get ready to leave tomorrow. She could still help out the Hope Gazette with a couple of stories here and there. She didn't have to be home for that.
Besides, she'd taken enough of a vacation from her life. She was honest—with her article, anyway. She turned that in, and would take the assignment sent to her, no matter how crappy. All the while, she would job hunt.
Ransom was right about one thing—she could do anything. She just had to figure out how to go after it.
Her phone started to ring again, and she groaned. "Jesus, it's only seven in the morning. What the hell can you want now?" She muttered as she declined the call again, attempting to turn over. Her sister just called again.
Lexa yanked the phone from its plug and answered. "Dammit, Ella, what do you need? What is the big fucking emergency? Do you have any idea what time I got home last night?"
"Yeah, I have some idea. And I have to tell you, I'm kinda shocked you even left his place."
What? Her blood ran to ice. Lexa sat up and clutched her pillow to her chest. "Ella, what are you talking about?"
"Sweetie, I need you to open your laptop and go to TMZ."
"Why?"
"I don't want you to freak out.”
What the hell was going on? "What the hell is happening?"
"Just get your laptop."
Lexa dragged her laptop off the desk, sat up straighter, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She opened the machine, and typed in the address to the gossip site. When its landing page appeared, she stared, openmouthed. "Oh, my God. Oh. My. God."
Ella's voice was calm. "Just breathe. Breathe deep. It's okay. We'll take care of it. Most people won't know that's you, they did get one facial shot, but it's grainy, you can always deny it. People might not even know. I only know, because I knew what you were wearing, and, I'd know your face anywhere."
"Oh, my God, Ella. What am I going to do?"
The paparazzi had gotten a photo of her and Ransom, at his place. Against the door. Several photos, actually. With her face contorted in several versions of ecstasy. Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit. And as if that wasn't bad enough, there was an accompanying story.
Handsome Ransom was the title.
The famed hockey star went back to his roots for some good, old-fashioned, homestyle loving. And looks like the hockey player with the movie-star good looks is up to his old tricks again, breaking hearts all around the world. Though, if the rumors are true, in this case, he's breaking a lot more than hearts.
Oh God. How had this become her life? How was this happening?
The story went on.
It appears that Mr. Cox—except the story spelled it like Cocks—and his lady friend pretty much said to hell with all the rumors about the size of his man parts and gave it a go. From the looks of it, she couldn't even wait to get inside. We are all just hoping she can walk this morning.
Tales of his equipment and playability aside, there's a new rumor circling around Ransom. And it's not about how long he kept that poor girl screaming his name. An unnamed source claims that there's a reason Handsome Cox is a hockey and a bedroom God. It runs in the family.
And then she saw it. The side-by-side photo. One of Ransom, and the other of a guy she didn't know, but they looked enough alike to be brothers. She read the name: Fox Coulter. Oh, shit. She frowned. Of those Coulters?
The unnamed source stated that Handsome Cox is a long-lost grandson of Rory Coulter. Before you shame us for rumormongering, TMZ has acquired the birth certificate of Sherry Cox, Ransom's mother. Father is listed as none other than Rory Coulter.
Inserted was a copy of Ransom's mother's birth certificate. Lexa sat up straighter. "Oh, shit."
Lexa had forgotten her sister was still on the phone, until she spoke. "Okay, good, so you're seeing it. Right now, no one knows it's you. We can get an injunction or something. They have to take this down."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
Ella laughed. "You mean that other shit. Clearly, they're making it up. Just because he and that hottie, Fox Coulter, look a little bit alike, they're leaping here. I mean, you can get anyone to doctor up a fake birth certificate. Ridiculous paparazzi shit. Our main concern is that picture."
Her sister had no idea. This time, the paparazzi had it right. She had to talk to him. How would anyone have found out? "Ella, I'll call you later, okay?"
In minutes, she was out of the shower and throwing on the nearest clothes she could find. She drove like a maniac to Ransom's. When she pulled into the driveway, she saw his truck was there. Thank God, he was probably home. She threw her car into park, and scrambled out, running to his front door, hoping no one was watching. Hoping no one saw. It's probably too late for that. She choked back a bubble of hysterical laughter.
She banged on the front door. Come on, open up. When he didn't answer right away, she banged again.
It took several minutes, but he finally came to the door. Soaking wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Oh. Shit.
You do not have time for this. Right. Not the time to think with the libido. She shoved him inside, slammed the door behind them. "I am so sorry."
He raised his brows. "For what? Interrupting my shower? While I'm confused about why you're here, I'm assuming you're rethinking what you said at four o'clock this morning?"
Yes. "No. Have you seen TMZ?"
He frowned. "I don't follow the paparazzi. It's a bunch of garbage."
"This time, they got it right." She ran to his laptop, opened it, pulled up the website, then turned the computer to face him.
He stared. "How… Shit. That would explain why my phone is blowing up. I can hear it vibratin
g even now upstairs. I've just been ignoring it. Look, I'm sorry about the photo. I'll have my lawyer see what we can do about it getting taken down. It's not a real clear shot of you, so you should be okay. I don't think anyone saw us get into the car together."
"That's not why I'm here. Keep reading."
He turned his attention back to the screen. And then scrolled down. She could tell the moment he'd read the part about the Coulters, because he stood up perfectly straight and then snapped his attention to her. "Did you do this?"
She blinked. "Me? No. How? I wouldn't do this."
"I told you about my mother. I've never told anyone. You've been talking about getting your career back with a big story. I just didn't think you were the kind of person to do it standing on my back."
"Ransom, I would never do this. Forget about not doing this to you, I would never do that to your mother. She lives her private life. This is none of anyone's business. I didn't tell a soul."
"You really expect me to believe that? Since you, me and Mom are the only people who know? I'm sure she didn't tell anyone. My mother's kept that secret for fifty years. You're the only one who could have told anyone. You're the one who needed a big story."
Her stomach rolled as bile rose. "You think I could do something like that? I came here to see if you're okay. To give you a chance to warn your mom."
He scowled at her. "Are you sure you didn't come to get more of a story? I should have known. I left your place last night thinking I'd fucked up. Thinking that maybe I had it wrong. That maybe the reason I felt the way that I did was because you were different."
Lexa backed up and clutched the end of the kitchen island, her knuckles going white. She tilted her chin up at him. "I didn't do this. I wouldn't hurt people just to get what I want." She licked her dry lips. "Now, I really see. You didn't care about me at all. If you did, you would know that I'm not capable something like this. Don't worry, you'll never see me again. But, do everyone a favor and warn your mother, before she goes out not knowing that everyone has seen this." She turned her back on him and walked out, not bothering to look back.
