Page 76 of Beautifully Reckless
I know what it’s like to have sisters going through your stuff, helping themselves.
God, I miss that.
What I wouldn’t give to have little Tahli bugging me about borrowing something.
Maggie, though? She can bugger right off.
Following Ringo through the door, we step into a long hallway that opens up into another living space. There’s a small kitchenette and a plush charcoal couch, similar to the one downstairs, but smaller. Cosier. The kind that only fits two people.
My attention shifts to the side of the room where a number of guitars are hanging on the wall. Some are electric. Some are big and others are small, and I think one may be a banjo.
I don’t know for certain since instruments have never been my thing but its circular body looks like it to me.
“I don’t get much time to enjoy them these days.” Ringo’s deep voice is right behind me, and I want to turn and face him, but I don’t.
Instead, I enjoy the heat of him at my back, so close I swear I can feel his breath on my neck.
It’s strange how comfortable I am with him now. A month ago, I would have felt uneasy having my back to him, not able to watch if he was gearing up to pounce.
We’d gotten close back at the Western. I even got intimate with him.
Shit. Is intimate the right word to use when you let a guy touch your… coochie?
“I guess there’s not much time for luxuries like playing a guitar when you’re with your club.” I breathe, my skin prickling with little zaps of static electricity, reacting to every tiny shift of his body behind me.
“Not so much,” he agrees, right at my ear, the sound sending a shiver up my spine. “You cold, Angel?”
My cheeks flame, heat licking across them like they do so often when he’s around, but I can’t lie to Ringo, so I shake my head.
“Not cold.”
“Hmmm.”
Oh dear God, he’s so close. Too close, yet not close enough.
Touch me.
Wait… do I want that? For him to touch me.
He’s touched me numerous times since he found me again, but they were nothing but innocent. Not the sort of touching I’m anticipating.
Just this morning we were locked in a bathroom together, and I thought I wasn’t ready to have him completely. My body feels ready though. I’m practically on fire, burning for him. His touch. His lips. His… dick.
Shit, is that what I want?
“Turn around, Angel.”
My breath catches at his low rasp, and I do what he says, slowly turning to take him in. I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes, and my deep shallow breaths make my breasts brush against his vest.
Staring down at me, his fingers are gentle as they reach out to brush some of my pink strands behind my ear with a gentleness that weakens me.
Then his gaze drops to my mouth.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, having a mind of its own, and I wait, barely breathing, to see if he’s going to kiss me.
His lips part, and his eyes flick back to mine.
“Let me show you my bed, Angel.”
