Thunderstruck (Ramsey Security #1)

"You keep trying to get rid of me. If you want out, just say so. If you're doing it for my benefit, stop playing that game. I'm not going anywhere."

"I used to want kids," I say, turning to cuddle closer. "The noise is too much now, and there are no quiet babies."

"No, there aren't. In fact, I was a very loud and rowdy kid."

"Really? Were you just awful?" I ask, skimming his scar with my fingers.

"I liked climbing up on everything. I was also big on drawing on the walls with crayons. My dad nearly burst a blood vessel freaking out when I drew on his office walls."

"Were you a happy child?"

"Oh, yeah."

Grinning, I straddle him and cup his face. "I want to be strong for you, but I don't know if I can."

"I don't need you to be strong. I just need you to be safe. Not only from fucks like Locke but also from the vicious thoughts in your head."

When I try to back away, he holds me in place. "You can run from the past and the bad dreams but don't run from me."

I stare into his hypnotic blue eyes and try to find the words. "With Locke, I knew there was no right choice. Whenever he gave me options, each one led to something bad. I got so indecisive that I still get stuck."

"I've noticed," he says softly.

"Last night, I had urges..." I pause, wanting to create space between us. Troy lets me go only long enough to lean me onto my back and wrap me into his arms. Realizing he won't let me go, I continue. "If I weren't so indecisive, I might have done something bad to myself last night. Something I couldn't take back. Are you really sure you want to love someone who thinks thoughts like that?"

"Sure, why the fuck not?"

I smile at his certainty. "Tough guy."

"What were you like as a kid?" he asks, cuddling tighter with me on the bed.

Troy's fingers tease my belly button through my wrinkled black shirt. I wonder if he wants sex. My mind is picturing us together when he asks the question again.

"I was a lame-o. I followed Shelley around and did whatever she did. It's the only reason I became a model. Whenever people asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I just told them to ask Shelley and I'd second her answer."

"It makes me sad to think you'd marry a dud like Vernon," he teases while his fingers do the same to my ribcage.

"That dud paid for the best medical care for me. He paid for my apartment. Hell, he paid for your services, so we wouldn't have met without Vern."

"You're right. I should thank that wonderful man the next time I see him."

Smiling, I feel lighter as the ugliness of the night before fades. "I can't have you see me naked."

Troy studies my face. "Are you coming onto me?"

"Very much so."

"Are you sure?"

"Fucking you makes me happy. It's the rest of life that's too damn confusing."

Troy kisses me tenderly, still hesitant. Wanting to make my needs very clear, I slide my hand inside his boxers and stroke his soft cock. As he hardens from my touch, Troy looks around the well-lit room.

"How are we going to do this?"

"Let me put on my pjs. Give me two minutes. Feel free to get naked while I'm..."

Troy kicks off his boxers before I finish the sentence.

"I'm ready when you are," he says, stretching out on the bed.

Flushed and giggling, I hurry to the bathroom to change. I see my reflection and remember the fear I suffered from the night before when I cut my hair. The ugly hate I felt for me and everything else in the world. Nothing made sense, and I wanted to end it all.

Yet now the sun is bright, and Mister Punishment is dead. I don't know about Mistress, and I don't care. I have a man I love. Despite all my issues, he still loves me. With Troy's help, last night becomes an ugly memory.





47


~~~

Troy

Fucked Up Ken

Darla wraps her arms around me as we walk into the main living area. I hesitate when I don't see Minka. Her bag rests on the kitchen counter. The apartment is quiet, not even a hint of the outside traffic common on this block. Noticing my worry, Darla tightens her grip on me.

"Minka," I say, resting my hand on the gun strapped to my jeans.

Her head pops up from the couch, and bleary eyes stare at us.

"Staying alert I see, Habanero."

"I was up most of the night, so fuck the fuck off, fucker."

Glancing down at Darla, I smile. "She's grumpy in the morning."

A smiling Darla walks to where Minka adjusts on the couch. "Do you want me to make coffee?"

The women share a smile, and I'm filled with a sense of peace at their friendship. These are the two most important people in my life. If they hated each other, I'd lose my best friend, and I'm not a guy who easily replaces people.

Instead, they get along well, even being as different as women can be. While Darla makes a pot of coffee, I find the fridge stocked with groceries and begin cooking us omelets.

"Harlow went shopping last night," Minka explains. "She seems lonely here in Houston. I should make more of an effort."

Smirking, I nod. "Yeah, you really should."

"You could make an effort too."