“Mother fucker. No, Aly. It doesn’t mean a thing.” And he kissed me, hard.
At eighteen Ransom kissed me like he wanted me. He sought permission with every touch he gave me back then. At twenty, he’d learned that my permission was always his. Still, he’d glance at me, checking to see if every touch, every graze of his hands on my body was allowed. Now he took my face, moving my head to guide me, rule me, take from me what he wanted and with the strength of his touch and the way his mouth, his tongue insisted, I understood that he wanted it all. Everything I had. Anything I had given to Ethan, he wanted it back. That eager, greedy swipe of his lips, the twist of my hair between his fingers, told me Ransom wanted me now. That he hadn’t ever stopped.
When he pulled away from me, holding me close, keeping me still, I didn’t bother wiping my eyes, didn't hide that I wasn’t crying, that I wasn’t so damn twisted with guilt and confusion and indecision. He didn’t seem to care that I was.
“I’d adopt or steal or buy a hundred babies that weren’t mine just to keep you with me.” He kissed me again, holding my face as though he was scared I’d try to pull away from him. “And if babies were too much for you, I’d find you a litter of puppies or kittens or, fuck’s damn sake, I’d steal some baby birds and build them a nest between our bedroom pillows.” Ransom’s face was wet and when I moved my fingers over his forehead, across his cheek, taking the kiss he offered, I couldn’t tell if it was my tears or his that smeared my mascara. His eyes were red and his nose leaked, but Ransom kept watching me, looking like he wasn’t sure what to make of this entire day. “Kids would have come. Or they wouldn’t. You don’t see that? My sweet love, my badass woman who doesn’t need a damn soul, who can do anything at all, I know that now. I see that now. More than any damn thing on the planet, baby, I want you. No, I don’t just want you. I need you, Aly. I need you like I need the breath in my body, the blood in my veins. There is no me without you. Not then, ko`u aloha, not now. Not ever.”
My love.
Was I still? Had I ever been? Or had I merely been ripe and convenient? I didn’t know, God help me, I couldn’t decide, but that didn’t make me stop Ransom when he kissed me again or explain why I responded to his kiss, his touch, how I let him pick me up, hold me by the waist to get closer to my mouth, kiss me deeper.
“Aly, please. Tell me you don’t want Ethan. Tell me you’ll be my family again.”
“Ransom…I…I need…”
The sound of that cracking, busted engine made us both stop, had our attention on the back of the house and the loud music booming from Cass’s busted Ford pickup. Ransom set me on my feet without a word, pulling me away from the pit with a firm grip on my hand and just before we made it to the patio, he stopped, turning on me as he brushed the back of his hand across his damp face.
“Don’t think that this asshole is going to get me to forget you owe me an answer.”
My laugh was brief, but it still pulled a grin from Ransom. “Fine. We’ll table it.” And before I could follow him up the steps, Ransom grabbed my face, kissing me quick, but deep once more.
“I’ll get it from you, makamae.” He pushed me close, resting his large hand against my ass. “Trust that.”
Your tongue is heavy
Thick
Clustered with words,
Break
Burn.
Your heart is empty,
Weak
Vacuous.
Your mind is twisted,
Sick
Like your soul
Like my pity.
Eighteen
I’d take a million mediocre days to get me from the moment I was in just then: Aly leaning next to me against the wall just outside of my mother’s studio, smelling like something out of my best damn wet dream, the feel of her tears still drying on my face and the recall of her taste teasing my mouth. She wouldn’t let me charge into the studio and for a moment, I didn’t mind. My fingers itched to throttle that idiot cowboy, but a more driving urge compelled me to listen. I guessed that had more to do with Aly leaning against me as we eavesdropped.
“Keira, you take on too much,” I heard Cass tell my mother. “You don’t deserve this, especially not from him.”
That slick fucker was using his inside voice—smooth, sweet, as though he wanted my mother to believe he was only worried about her and not his contract, not the record Mom had assured him would make him a household name. She really was a little gullible when it came to men, but damn, no one was that blind.
“Cass, please don’t say that.” I could hear the sluggishness of her words. She wasn’t drunk, would likely sober up the second we went through the door, but Aly wanted to wait. She kept her hand on my arm, holding me back and I was torn between the feel of her soft touch and the desire to get that asshole away from my mother.