Sliding his hand out of the water and up the curve of my bare spine, the wet tips of Ran’s fingers trail up my back. He cups the base of my head in his palm gently, hooking his fingers into my hair that’s twisted there. It tumbles from its temporary hold and spills across my shoulders, chilling them, but I’m all chills now anyway, so they make themselves at home with the rest.
Our lips haven’t parted and the way Ran angles as he tugs my bottom lip into his mouth and then rotates his head the other way to deepen the kiss, makes me thankful I’m submerged in water because everything in me goes limp and the water is the only thing that keeps me afloat. If it weren’t for the buoyancy, I’d be a puddle on the ground right now.
We both draw in air. We’re probably just trading it back and forth between us, really. Everything feels seamlessly synchronized as his lips tangle against mine. If there’s some kind of ideal method for the way people are supposed to kiss, I’m one hundred percent sure Ran has found the perfect formula. Like the necessary ingredients are his mouth, my lips, and this exact moment in time, combined to create this sensation that I didn’t know was possible.
Ran slides back into the slope of the seat and I slink onto his lap, never breaking the connection between us, still absorbing everything I can from his warm lips that taste like honey, sweet and smooth.
I love that he takes the lead—how he uses his hand at my neck to guide me and move me so that our mouths counter the weight, the pressure, and the force of the other. I part my lips, opening my mouth slightly, and feel the edge of Ran’s tongue sliding over my bottom lip. That’s something I’d wanted to do to him since the first night we’d met and he’s beaten me to it. I mimic his movement as soon as his tongue pulls back into his mouth, and I trace the shallow dip in the middle of his full bottom lip, feeling the perfection of it, and it’s even better than I could have ever dreamed. And I’ve dreamt about it. A lot.
My heart flutters and my breathing does the same. The strands of icicles that hang at my back sting my skin and I try to hide the shiver, but I can’t—no matter how hot this tub is, the air that slices against me is freezing.
Like he’s in tune with every single part of me—even my temperature—Ran dips me back, guiding me under the crests and waves of water until just our necks rise above it. I take advantage of the way our bodies wind around one another and brush my hand over the muscles of his chest, running it down to the ripples of his stomach, greedily gliding my hand over every curve. Ran keeps his hands curled around my waist, though I’m guessing he wants to do the same to me. The water disguises the sweat that drenches from my palm, but the beads that form above my lip from the steam are still present. Ran’s breath rushes in and out of him, picking up in tempo, increasing mine right along with it.
For one brief moment he pulls back. “Maggie,” he says against my lips, his voice hoarse and raw. “What are you doing to me?” He grasps me at arm’s length briefly enough to look into my eyes, and the look he gives holds more intensity than our entire kiss. It causes something in me to ache, and I know the only way to appease it is to surrender my mouth to his again.
This time I take charge, my hands on either side of his jaw, pulling his mouth onto mine, letting him know exactly what I want. Ran lets me have my way. He doesn’t lead, but follows me. I suck his upper lip between both of mine, dragging it slightly into my mouth, just enough that the pull draws him closer and forces him to respond. Not that he wouldn’t—our lips have been in perfect unison, reacting to every movement from the other this whole time. I gain confidence and snake my tongue into his mouth. Ran’s slides against mine, exploring every inch of my mouth hungrily. A low noise escapes from his throat and he pulls out of our kiss and says, “This is our limit, Maggie.” He runs his tongue slowly across my lips and I go lightheaded, my heart racing, my breath ragged and shallow. “We have to draw a line, because I’m about to cross it if we don’t put one in place right now.”
I don’t want to draw any lines and I’m all for bounding right through the ones he wants to make, but the tenor in his voice and the way he nearly pleads with me pulls at my core. And unfortunately, it almost turns me on more than our actual make out session. The fact that Ran wants to take things slow is a crazy turn on, which sort of defeats the whole purpose. It’s like some unfair, sexual oxymoron.
“Okay,” I hesitantly agree as our lips part. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I reclaim some semblance of composure. “This is the line.”
But it feels so strange to have a boundary with someone when I want to do so much more. Brian and I never had any set boundaries, and I honestly didn’t even want him the way I want Ran. Not even close. To have to pull back and limit it to this, especially given how incredible this is, almost feels unfair. If kissing Ran can make me feel this way, I can only imagine how everything else must be.
“Maggie.” Ran’s lips connect with mine a final time in one heavy, long press. “That was hot.” His eyes burn into mine, desire and need radiating through his gaze.
“Yeah,” I smile against his mouth. “Well, we are in a hot tub.”
Ran sweeps me around in the water and we settle against the side of the spa, slinking down into the bench seats. He wraps his arm around me and I coil mine around his waist. “That would have been hot in Antarctica.” He presses his mouth against my crown of hair. “Seriously, best first kiss ever.”
“But in all fairness, you admitted to not ever really having a first kiss. So I think that wins by default.”
“Maggie.” Ran guides my head onto his shoulder and combs his fingers through the length of my hair that swims around me in the rolling waves of the jets. “I’ve done much more than that in my past, and I can promise you, there’s no comparison. Not even on the same chart.”
“But it was just a kiss,” I say, insecurity hanging in my voice. My breathing still isn’t normal and I have to fight my lungs to adopt a rhythmic pace. It’s all shallow and shaky now, and if I keep it up, I’ll end up passing out.
Ran’s hand drops from my hair and floats down to the outside of my thigh where he grabs onto it and runs his thumb over my skin tenderly. It takes a moment before I realize it’s the leg with the scar, and for some reason, I feel like I should be embarrassed—like he’s going to notice my imperfections just under the pad of his thumb. But I think his hand placement might actually be intentional, and there’s something comforting in the act—in knowing that he chooses that leg, despite its flaws.
“Maggie,” Ran says quietly, assuring me as he continues, “sometimes it’s not about what you’re doing, but who you’re doing it with.”
“Sometimes it’s about what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with,” I suggest. My joints and muscles ache even more than before, and I’m sure the way they tensed during our kiss didn’t help at all with that. I let the warmth of the water wash over them and close my eyes as I curl against Ran’s body.
“In our case, yes.” With my eyes shut, Ran flips me around by my waist, drawing me onto his lap again. Consuming me with his gaze, the tips of his fingers slide my hair back on either side of my face, and he cups it between his palms. “And I’m glad that we’re just getting started because if that was just a taste of what’s in store, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to wait for more.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“This is a pretty good list.” Ran taps the pen to his lip, on that dip right in the middle that I’ve sort of become obsessed with since the hot tub kiss. He’s propped up on his elbows and looks down at the sheet of paper resting on the pillow underneath him. I rotate my head to the side and glimpse the crinkled parchment lying there. “Can you think of anything else?”
“Not at the moment,” I say, sliding deeper under the covers. Today has been tiring in so many ways and my body begs for some rest. “Did you get the sunrise one?” My words are slow, like I’ve been drinking, but I’m really just drunk with sleep. It has to be well past midnight.
Ran bites down on the t
ip of the pen and nods. “Stay up long enough to see a sunrise and sunset in the same day.” He lifts the paper up and brings it closer to his face and then flips it over to examine the backside. “How long are we allowing for all of these? Because it looks like there’s a fair amount of travel, and money, involved.”
“I think we should give ourselves the summer. That’ll give us six months to plan.”
Ran’s lips purse. “Good idea. This one is my favorite.” He grins and shoves the paper my direction, skimming his finger across the note scribbled there.
Do something permanent on a whim and do something temporary after meticulous planning.
“That is going to be the hardest one. I’m not good at permanent.”
Ran glances down at his bare chest and arm covered in ink. “I am,” he smiles.
“And how do you plan for something temporary? I can’t even come up with an example.”
“Our entire list.” He flips onto his side and a gust of air puffs out of him. “Once we finish everything on it, we can have some list burning ceremony or something. This isn’t meant to be permanent—if it is, that means we’re dragging our feet and not actually doing what we set out to do.”
He softly places a kiss on the tip of my nose and folds the note into quarters. “Get some sleep. Let me know if you come up with anything else in the morning.” The bed frame creaks as Ran rolls off of it, our well-thought-out list between his fingers. “This right here is the perfect example of doing something incredible with someone incredible. This is going to be awesome, babe.”
I perk up, popping up onto my elbows, and shove the cover down so I can see him. “Did you just call me babe?”
I can see Ran’s cheeks flush even in the darkness. “Uh, yeah. I was trying it out.” He shifts his weight. “Didn’t stick?”
“I don’t know.” I wobble my head back and forth. “It just surprised me.”
“Sorry, angel. I won’t call you babe anymore.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Pumpkin, you don’t like angel, either?”
“No.” I shake my head and my finger at him. “Definitely not pumpkin. That makes me feel like I’m round and fat and have a bad spray tan.”
Ran laughs. “Okay, sweetie, I won’t call you pumpkin.”
“See, with sweetie I just think of candy, and that sounds like the name of a stripper, and that’s just gross.”
“Sweetie it is.” Ran shoots me a coy grin and then thumbs his chin and knits his brow together. “How about love.”
My readied insult catches in my throat. “Love?”
“Yes, because that’s what I feel for you—in every sense of the word.”
I slide back into the warmth of the bed. “I don’t know. You’ll have to try it out and see. I could get used to it.”
Ran skirts the edge of the bed and rounds the corner to stand at my side. He dips down and presses a warm kiss against the shell of my ear. “Get some rest, my love.”
I smile, my eyes close, and I start to slip into that limbo of haze that comes before sleep.
I hear Ran tread lightly across the room toward the door and when the hinges squeal quietly as he opens it, he whispers over his shoulder. “I really do love you, Maggie. Don’t ever forget that.”
“You too, Ran. And there’s absolutely no way I ever will.” I roll over onto my side, drawing the cotton sheets up under my chin. “That list is awesome,” I speak into the dark of the room, knowing he’s standing silently by the doorframe because even though I can’t make him out, I can sense his presence still here with me. “I can’t wait to experience everything on it with you.”
“Me too,” he says sweetly, softly. “It’s not like we need a list of activities to fill our time, but it’s fun to plan out my future with you. I love knowing that you’ll be a part of all of my adventures from now on.” The door creaks open and he steps through it. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The door slips shut and I slink into the welcoming depths of sleep.
The sickening sound of retching on the other side of the thin wall jolts me out of my hard earned slumber. Mikey had texted earlier saying they’d admitted him to the hospital for more tests and will keep him through the weekend. They wanted to rule out any possible tumor growth, any unforeseen changes in his progress. No doubt it’s been an exhausting day for him playing the dreaded waiting game.
I blink the sleep from my eyes but it takes longer to leave my brain and when everything finally comes into focus visually and mentally, I remember I’m at my mom’s cabin, and that’s not Mikey on the opposite wall. The retching happens again, this time accompanied by a distinct cry at the end—a whimper following the sickening gagging. A child’s cry. It’s not Mikey this time. It’s one of the twins.
I skulk out of bed and glide my feet into my slippers, tug a sweatshirt over my head, and emerge into the hallway to see who is up sick. A strip of light stretches the length of the bathroom door and I can hear voices on the inside, Brittany and Valerie, though I don’t know which belongs to which girl. I don’t even know how to tell them apart when I’m staring them straight in the face. Distinguishing their voices behind a block of wood is like playing “Guess what’s behind door number two.” I definitely won’t win at that game.
That’s when I hear a third voice, and there’s no question at all as to whom it belongs.
“It’s okay,” I hear him whisper, followed by a soothing, shushing sound that causes a calm to wash over me. “You’re going to be fine.”
I tiptoe toward the bathroom and rap lightly on the molding encasing the door with my knuckle.
“Hey,” I whisper, my hand on the brushed silver handle. “Is everything okay?” I slowly press the door open and glimpse Ran, Valerie, and Brittany huddled on the tile floor, Brittany hugging the toilet, sitting in Ran’s lap, and Valerie slunk down on the floor next to them, her sleepy head resting on his broad shoulder.
“Yeah,” Ran says quietly, his eyes flickering over to the twin wrapped around the toilet bowl. “Brittany just has a little tummy ache.” He runs his palm over her tumbling golden curls. Her bloodshot eyes glance up at me.
“Mommy always says not to wake her up,” Valerie informs as I crouch down to their level. “Brittany gets upset tummies a lot, so I help her instead.”
Ran gives me a troubled look over the top of Valerie’s head and I exchange the same heartbroken expression. “I heard them in here about a half hour ago,” he explains.
As if on cue, poor Brittany lurches forward again, her tiny arms trembling as she dry heaves into the bowl. Tears stream down her chubby cheeks and Ran reacts instantly, wrapping his hands around the collection of hair at the nape of her neck, securing them in his strong hand as a ponytail. Her small frame and his formidable one are the exact opposite of one another, and the tenderness he shows as he sweeps her face with the soft back of his hand does something to me that I didn’t expect. The blur collecting at the edges of my eyes makes it feel as though the entire bathroom is submerged in water and I’m sinking into it. I gasp for air because he keeps stealing it from me.
“Shhh,” he soothes, running a wet washcloth across her forehead. “It’s okay.”
I slide my back down the wall and seat myself right next to Valerie. She angles her face toward mine, and for the first time I notice that she has a smattering of tiny freckles peppering her upturned nose. I don’t think Brittany has those. I’ll have to remember that.
“Mommy says her juice makes her sleepy.” Valerie shimmies her weight toward me and presses her face to my shoulder. I panic, not having any clue as to how I am supposed to respond. Nurturing is not something in my nature. “She says never to wake her.”
I’m sure she does. I’m sure Mommy’s “juice” makes waking her an impossible task.
“You done for now?” Ran asks as Brittany swivels around to him, planting her cheek against his chest, her eyes barely open. She gives him a heavy-eyed, lethargic nod. “Here. Just
rest, okay? I’ll be right here if you get sick again.” Brittany curls further into Ran, tucking her legs up under her to fit in the hollow of his cross-legged lap, and she brings her hands up to her face between her cheek and his chest like she’s praying. “You’re going to be fine,” he murmurs against the crown of her blonde hair.
I gaze down at Valerie and she’s completely out, drool pooling at the corner of her mouth, catching on the fabric of my sweatshirt. She’s not at all a peaceful looking sleeper, and I realize that might be a trait we have in common as I remember my drool-filled nap session in the truck on the way up to the cabin.
“Sorry we woke you,” Ran whispers, his hand still sliding through Brittany’s hair. I’d always wondered what that would feel like, to have someone run their fingers across your scalp when you were sick. My dad took care of me when I’d been ill in the past, but he’s not much of a physically affectionate man. He’s an incredibly compassionate person for sure, but his kindness and care don’t take the form of physical touch, but words and acts of service instead. So Dad never ran his fingers through my hair. In fact, the only person to ever do that was Brian, and the memory of it spikes something in my gut.
The first time I thought I was actually in love with Brian was when I was sprawled across the tile floor, vomiting up a night’s worth of mistakes in the form of regurgitated alcohol. I thought I loved him because of the way he took care of me, the way he held my hair and rubbed my back. But he had been there all night, encouraging me to take another drink, to have just one more shot. In the back of his mind, I’m sure he hoped to get something out of it—out of me being dead to the world in my drunken stupor. But all he got was a vomit-covered sweatshirt and a girlfriend with an angry hangover the next day.
I open my eyes to stop the memory from replaying and look across the bathroom toward Ran and the two near-strangers cuddled up against us. He has absolutely nothing to gain, other than possibly getting infected with whatever Brittany has. While I always thought Brian was being selfless that night, staying up with me while I teetered on the brink of needing medical attention and the edge of unconsciousness, there was absolutely nothing selfless in his act at all. He was obligated to take care of me, to make sure I didn’t end up with alcohol poisoning or worse. He was my boyfriend. I’m sure that duty is written in some relationship handbook somewhere.
Demanding Ransom Page 21
