It all suddenly makes sense. He isn’t here because Faye made him, or because he has some kind of hero complex. He’s here because he knows Elizabeth and cares about her. I rack my brain, wondering if she’s ever mentioned a biker, or if I’ve ever heard the name Ranger before, but come up with nothing. We didn’t grow up living near each other though and went to different schools, so she knows a lot of people I don’t.
“You didn’t ask,” he says, playing it off. “We used to be friends. We actually went to high school together. I haven’t seen her in years, but when I saw her photo I knew I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. So, yes, that’s why I’m here. This isn’t just personal for you—it is for me too. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. You might be her blood, but that doesn’t mean that I care any less. I won’t rest until she’s safe.”
We share a look, a moment of understanding passing between us. Neither of us will quit until we have her back; we’re both on the same wavelength. I never thought I’d have something in common with a biker, but here we are, in my hotel room, basically partners. It goes to show that you never know where life will take you. All you can do is hold on for the ride.
“If you hadn’t found that trapdoor today . . .”
“But I did,” he says, moving his gaze from me to around the room. “I should be tired, but I’m not. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
My eyes widen at the offer, taken aback. “Ummm, sure,” I say, handing him the remote. “Why don’t you choose something?”
Is he going to watch on the bed with me? Is this appropriate? We did kiss—it’s not like that’s appropriate, but I don’t regret it either. I don’t know what to think or say, so I just move to one side of the bed and watch as he puts on the TV and selects a movie channel. When he moves to the bed, on the other side, I hold my breath. He, on the other hand, acts like this is something we do every day. He makes himself comfortable lying on the bed, flicking through the channels again when apparently the one he chose wasn’t entertaining enough.
“Any requests?” he asks, not paying me any attention. He still has his shoes on, so his feet are off the bed, but every other part of him is flat on the mattress.
“I’m easy,” I reply without thinking, then cringe when I realize what I just said. “You can watch whatever you want; it’s fine.”
Nice save.
However, Ranger doesn’t let it go. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Easy?” he asks, lip twitching. He finally looks from the screen to me. “Because I don’t think you are.”
“Really?” I say, turning my body toward him. “What am I, then? Have you already figured me out in the little time you’ve known me? I must be pretty simple, then . . . hmmm?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Fuck, Jo. You’re not simple—no woman is—but you definitely aren’t. You’re strong, yet you have a soft, vulnerable side that I want to protect. You don’t know what you want. You think that you don’t need anyone else, but you do. You love hard. You love everyone hard except yourself. You—you just get by, working yourself into the ground and not giving yourself what you need, what every fuckin’ human needs.”
I blink slowly. “I don’t need anyone else. I’ve gotten on just fine, thank you. I don’t need love, or an epic romance, or whatever else other women want, because it’s not in the cards for me. I haven’t even had sex in over a year!”
“Do you make yourself come?” he asks, scanning my face and waiting for my reply.
I swallow. “Ranger. I feel like we need to have a talk about boundaries.”
“I have none,” he says, shrugging, his expression blank. “Now answer the question.”
“Yes, I do,” I say, cheeks heating. “I’m a grown-ass woman, what do you think?”
“I think that you have needs.”
“That I can take care of on my own,” I say, lifting my chin.
Ranger licks his lips, then replies with, “You don’t miss someone holding you? Kissing your neck? Someone’s mouth on your pussy? A vibrator can’t replace that connection, that pleasure. The truth is, I haven’t fucked anyone in a while, because I’m sick of meaningless fucking. I did so much of it, and it got old really fast. Without a mental connection, I get bored. So, I’ve been waiting. Waiting for someone worth fucking. The difference between me and you? I know what I’m missing, I’m not in denial about it. I never thought I’d meet a woman who actually held my interest, but I always hoped to. I’m the only single man in the whole MC now, you know that?”
“Really?” I ask, eyes flaring. “All the women must want you, then, if it’s only you who is available.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” he asks, lips turning down. “It didn’t sound like one.”
“As if you don’t know that you’re good-looking,” I say, feeling bold. “Women must throw themselves at you.”
I shouldn’t be feeding his ego, but we’re both being completely honest right now. This conversation isn’t about anything but the truth—like he said, no boundaries. No filters. Just being real. So I’m not going to hide behind anything.
He isn’t.
He ignores my comment and says, “Come here.”
“What?” I ask, tucking my hair back behind my ear.
“Come here,” he repeats, lifting his arm out.
I scoot over on the bed until I’m within reach. He pulls me into him, so my head is on his shoulder and I’m wedged into the crook of his arm.
“Much better,” he says softly, then returns his attention to the TV. While surrounded by his warmth, I realize that what he said is right. Sure, I miss sex, but I miss this more. The contact, the affection and just the feeling of being close to someone. Damn him for being right, because I was doing so well convincing myself otherwise. The worst part is, I think I only crave these things being near him.
I don’t think I’ve changed my opinion on things—I think that he’s changed it. Because I don’t want to cuddle up to anyone, it’s just him—being like this right now, I don’t want to move. It feels perfect. How did this happen exactly? And so quickly? If I don’t want this, I need to back away now, before we’re in too deep. Before I probably end up hurt, or with regrets.
Ranger-size regrets.
I notice him glance down at me, but he doesn’t say anything, he just returns his gaze to the TV screen, where an Adam Sandler movie I’ve never seen before is playing. I bury my face in his black hoodie, taking in his scent, closing my eyes and just enjoying the moment. And that’s how I fall asleep.
ELEVEN
Ranger
I FREEZE when I walk out of the bathroom to find Jo pointing a gun at me.
“Oh fuck, it’s just you,” she says, lowering the weapon and touching her free hand to her chest.
“You spooned me all night and forgot about it?” I ask, feeling offended. She rubs her eyes, still looking half-asleep.
“I forgot where I was for a second,” she murmurs, sliding out of bed. “What time is it? We better get to the station.”
She puts the gun down and starts walking to the bathroom but then stops, and starts to stare at my bare chest, blue eyes widening as they roam up and down my torso and back.