Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (40 page)

After I clean up in the bathroom, I head into my room and uncover her, leaning down and brushing a series of light kisses over her face and her hair. She’s gonna be hurting. I slide one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders and haul her to the bathroom. She starts murmuring something about time and tequila. It’s freaking adorable.

“Denver,” I call, setting her on her feet and propping her against me, as I reach in and get the water right.

“Hey, Ransom,” she whispers, her voice sandpapery. “No yelling. You’re right here,” she reasons as she winds her arms around my neck. “You are really handsome, you know that? I like the way you make me feel inside.”

My dick springs to attention.
Not now, fucker.
“Is that right?” I snap.

“Shh … ugh, I think I’m still drunk,” she grumbles.

I can’t resist leaning in and planting a smacking kiss on her ear. “Ouch,” she whispers again.

“That’s what you get, getting tore up like that and all alone. That’s not cool.”

“I know. I needed to forget. Guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“I forgot,” she mouths.

Chapter Thirty-four

Denver

U
GH, IS THIS
another version of the walk of shame? I wonder as I enter the living room after my shower. Austin, Pete, and Maggie sit lined up on the couch like a set of judges. I just want to get it over with, so I throw my hands up and declare, “Guilty. On all counts. No contest. I’m an idiot.” I pause to focus on Pete. “I’m sorry for sneaking out, Pete. And for drinking all your liquor.” He nods once.

My eyes shift to a wide-eyed Maggie. “I’m sorry for not talking to you, Maggie. We’re gonna fix that.”

I finally take in a smirking Austin. At least one person doesn’t look scared out of his mind for me. “I’m sorry for kissing you, Austin.” I hear an angry rumble from the kitchen and glance over to see Ransom glaring at Austin. “It’s not his fault. He didn’t do anything but try to reason with me. I was on a mission last night, and his neck got in the way of my lips.” I don’t know that helped. Ransom looks like he’s ready to kill both of us now.

“Umm … I’m gonna go now,” Austin stutters and scrambles from the couch. “Let y’all work this out. For the record, my neck
and
I are both innocent. Ransom, just remember who got her into bed last night … uh, not like that,” he adds furiously as Ransom rounds the counter headed his way. “I put her in your bed,” he throws out before he slams the door behind him.

Maggie and I both giggle at his theatrics. Wrong move. Ransom spins around and silences us both with a glare.

“Oh, Ransom, you’re too serious. Nothing happened with him,” I protest. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part though. God, I really am an idiot. If I’m going to slut it up, it obviously can’t be around my new friends. Ransom walks past me, grabbing my hand as he does and pulling me behind him to the kitchen.

“Sit,” he orders. I’ve missed bossy Ransom.

“Have you now?”

Shit. How does he do that? I say things I never intend to say to him and barely realize I’m saying them.

So I own it. “Yes,” I confirm. I sit up straight as he slides some toast and coffee in front of me. I’m ravenous. I pull the toast apart and dip it in my coffee before bringing it to my mouth. I shove that piece in and dip another while I’m chewing. After I’ve swallowed a few pieces, I look up to catch a disgusted Ransom.

“What?” I mumble around another sodden piece.

“That’s gross.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” he says around the lid of his mug.

“What time is it?”

“Around ten,” he tells me. About that time, Maggie bounds in with a kiss and a hug.

“Pete and I are going to workout and leave you two to … discuss. We’ll talk when we get back, ‘K?”

“Fine,” I say, even though I really don’t know what to tell her. Part of me wants to come clean about everything.
Everything
. I know she would understand and be supportive. The other part of me doesn’t want to sully her with the ugliness. As soon as this throbbing in my temple goes away, I’ll decide.

After a few minutes of complete silence, Ransom clears the dishes and leads me to the couch. He usually pulls me next to him and makes me watch one of his many DVDs. Today, he sits with a cushion between us and looks ready to lecture me.

I don’t think I can take that, so I get a jump on him. “I’m really sorry I tried to seduce your cousin—”

“And Brent,” he inserts.

“And Brent last night,” I finish with a glare. We could have left him out of it since I didn’t really do anything with him, but the intent was there, so I don’t quibble. “I wish I could say I was drunk, but I wasn’t, until later. I told you before that I use sex to forget and—”

“What were you trying to forget last night?”

My hand flutters around. “Oh, a multitude of things,” I hedge as I run a hand through my hair. I make a makeshift ponytail with my hair and twist it up, wishing I’d taken the time to braid it. I let it down with a heavy thud while he just stares at me.

His sea-green eyes are soft and knowing, and the compulsion to lose myself in them overwhelms me. As always. “I read the note.”

I nod, waiting for him to continue, and then it dawns on me. The. Note. I don’t even remember what it said. He clears that up for me quickly.

“I wish you’d have told me it was him. I would have kicked his ass a lot sooner. I really would have liked to take him to the police station in pieces along with his stupid fucking confession, but I know that’s not what you want and probably not what you need.”

I swallow hard and glance down at my lap. I don’t even know how to feel about him invading my privacy, but I imagine it wasn’t that difficult since I passed out on his bed, his liquor all over me, and the note left out for anyone to see. I wonder how much he knows about me fucking Greer over. Will he hate me for that like I hate myself?

“The part that worries me more than anything else?” He hesitates. “Look here, Denver.” I look up, waiting to see judgment. “You are blaming yourself for
his
actions. You said before you got what you deserved, and that’s just not true. No matter what you did to him, you did
not
deserve that. Do you understand me?”

“Is he all right?”

Ransom’s jaw clenches hard, and he bites out, “Yes. Probably needs a few stitches. He’s lucky that’s it.”

I release a shaky breath. Greer deserved to have his ass kicked, but I still hate the fact that he’s in pain because of me. I caused him enough of that to last a lifetime.

“Don’t think I missed your evasion. You’re getting reckless,” he tells me. “I don’t like it. Trying to seduce others for meaningless sex, going out alone, even if it’s just with the rodeoers, bad shit can happen if you’re not paying attention, as I know you are aware. Drinking, passing out.” He pauses, his look foreboding. “You’ve got an itchy trigger finger, and it happens to be resting on the self-destruct button right now. I need you to step away from the fucking button, Denver.”

It’s funny how he says it, but I don’t laugh because it’s true. It’s a pattern. After Blake tried to rape me, my mother and father refused to love me enough to help me, and Greer turned me down, I was ready to blast through life at full speed, taking everything and everyone in my wake. Greer finally offered himself up and ended up being my only casualty. I was working on forgiving myself for that because I know I didn’t intend on hurting him and my head was, or is, so twisted.

He clears his throat, interrupting my reverie. I focus my attention back on him. “What does a horse that’s gotten out of control need, Denver?”

My face reddens. He is
not
comparing me to a wild horse. He gives me a stilted grin, like he knows exactly where my thoughts have gone. I stir a little in my seat, not answering even though I know what he wants me to say.

“Say it,” he orders, his grin widening. I pinch my lips together and some things start to fall into place where he’s concerned. I think about the way he talks to me. The way people respect him. I picture the way he stared down on that girl the other night.
Oh my God.

“A firm hand,” I whisper. I sound turned on. I am turned on. My face is burning, as is my throat. Guzzling a gallon of water right now would not quench my thirst. This thirst is something else entirely.

“A firm hand,” he confirms. “Discipline.” Taking a deep breath, he sits up a little straighter, braces his elbows on his knees, and rests his chin against his folded hands. His pale green eyes sear me before his words do. “I like to be in control, Denver. And it’s what you need—me to take control over you in a nice, safe way that makes you feel secure and treasured.”

Yep, it’s just what was running through my head.

He’s not just bossy.

He is domineering

He is dominating.

“How many shades
are
you?” I find myself whispering.

His brow wrinkles in confusion. “What does that mean?”

As I recall my stolen moments with those books, my face reddens, and I bite my lip, succumbing to that action just like that female lead always does. How fitting. “I, uh, read some books this summer just before I came to college. They were my aunt’s. Everyone was talking about them, so I thought I’d see what the fuss was all about,” I rush out, like that explains everything.

“And?”

I straighten my spine and toss my hair over my shoulders like this is a conversation I’m prepared to undergo, like I do this on a routine basis. And I decide to fuck with him. “You’re into BDSM,” I say haughtily. If he knows the acronym, then I know there’ll be no more dancing around the topic.

He throws his head back in laughter. “How do you even—?” He bridges his nose with his thumb and forefinger before running his hand over his buzzed hair. He tries again to ask me the question but ends up laughing again. I cross my arms and wait patiently.

Chapter Thirty-five

Ransom

I
DON’T EVEN
know what to say to that. Girls around here just don’t know about this kind of stuff. It’s like we’re caught in a time warp. And if people do know about it, they damn sure don’t discuss it openly. It’s why I had to figure out everything about myself on the fucking Internet. I take a deep breath and shake my head before relaxing back onto the couch. I didn’t want to have this conversation with her so soon, but I fear if I don’t she’ll do something she can’t bounce back from. I knew this girl was going to give me a run for my money. I knew she’d challenge me in every conceivable way. But, of all the ways I imagined our conversation going, this version never crossed my mind.

“I’m sorry. Can you ask me the question again?” I ask with a straight face.

She squares her shoulders. “There was no question. I stated that you are into BDSM.”

And so it begins. “You know what that means?”

“Yes, I had to Google a lot when I read those books,” she punctuates that thought with a shiver. My curiosity is piqued, but we’ll get to what about them made her shiver, later.

“What kind of books were they?” I ask, evading the question so that I can get more of a feel for what’s running through her head.

“The romantically kinky kind,” she murmurs, absently picking at the seam on the couch.

There are romance novels about BDSM? Well, that’s handy. “Ah … well, if it was in a romance novel, I’m sure some … liberties were taken.”

She grins, and her eyes find mine, shedding her moment of self-consciousness. “That may be, but they were enlightening ... and intriguing.”

I wonder if she knows exactly how telling that comment is. I don’t really know how much to tell her. Honestly, I don’t know how much of it I’m into. But, I have a good idea what I want to start with. I decide to use the initials to determine what exactly she thinks she knows. “Well, I’m into the D for sure.” Her eyes widen, and I’d bet money if I touched her, her pulse would be racing. “And the lighter side of the B.”

She nods for a minute, taking that in. She doesn’t disappoint. “So you want to tie me up and boss me around?”

“Something like that,” I hedge. A pretty picture of her bare, tied, wanting and waiting, to my bed flashes before my eyes. I harden instantly.

“Would you want to …” She struggles again, her face flushing pink, her nails biting into her palms, and I wonder where her thoughts are headed. I don’t have to wonder long. Flipping her hair over her shoulder and steeling herself, she starts again, “Would you want to spank me?” she asks, her voice firm.

My eyes flare with surprise. Will she ever do the expected? “Do you want me to spank you?” I ask, feeling more turned on now than I’ve ever felt before in my life.

She licks her lips and runs her bright eyes over me, and I don’t miss the little shifting movement she makes. “It depends on whether it’s for pleasure or pain.”

Holy shit!
“Just because the one is there doesn’t mean the other isn’t, you know?” I tease.

She nods slowly. “Well, would you?” she prompts, undeterred.

My teeth run over my bottom lip as I pretend to consider it. She shifts again. I savor her squirming. I nod slowly before saying, “Yes.”

I hear her breath catch and watch her hands tremble. “Why? Why do you want that?”

“It’s what turns me on,” I admit. “And before you get all judgmental on me, I know the thought of me telling you what to do and restraining you turns you on as well. It’s written all over you this very second—your pulse is racing, your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are dilated—you’re turned on.” I hesitate, waiting to see if she’ll protest or flee. Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t call me fucking crazy and she doesn’t head for the door.

I need her to know that I’m not a freak and that side of our relationship would not be common knowledge. “I’m trusting you with this information. Only two other people are privy to it. And I trust them with my life. You wouldn’t have to worry about people gossiping about that on top of everything else. If anything, being with me would stop all that talk.”