Ransom (The Player Book 5)

by Nana Malone

  Oh wow, she really had paid close attention to the game. That was the penalty for the Spartans, which had allowed them a penalty shot. Thank fuck they missed. Otherwise, he wouldn't be home right now, sharing breakfast with Lexa.

  As he explained it to her, she asked more questions. "You know, I've never played hockey before."

  "What?" How was that even possible?

  "Yeah, not even field hockey or street hockey. Given how hockey-crazy this town has always been, I guess it's odd that I've never even played it."

  "Well, hell, we have to fix that."

  She laughed. "How do you propose we do that? We're locked in your cabin for the foreseeable future."

  "Oh, ye of little faith. After breakfast, I'll show you around."

  Ransom wasn't kidding. He took her down the back hall, past a bathroom, and into a massive game room. Taking center stage in the cavernous space was an enormous air-hockey table. "What is this thing?" she asked.

  "This thing will let you learn to play hockey."

  "This isn't exactly what I meant."

  Ransom laughed. "Yes, true, but, I don't have a skating rink in my house. A couple of the guys in the team are seriously talking about it, believe it or not. For me, that's just too much space, and too much work. But, like I was saying, since I don't have one, this is the next best thing. You can imagine that you're doing all these moves on skates." He pointed out one of the little players. "This one over here, that's me. I'm on offense. These guys back here—" he pointed out the back line "—this is our defensive team, their whole goal for the most part is to make sure no one gets anywhere near our goalie."

  For the next thirty minutes, as they played and he explained each team member's role, and what they did, Lexa tried to follow along. He pointed out another piece. "So this guy, he’s our right winger. He’s the best in the league. When in doubt, give it to him. He’ll always find a way in."

  "Oh, so that guy is basically your Daenerys Stormborn."

  He frowned. "Who?"

  She stared at him. "Daenerys. From the show Game of Thrones? Mother of Dragons? Amelia Clark plays her."

  He continued to stare blankly at her for another long moment, until she understood. "What? Don't tell me you've never seen Game of Thrones."

  He laughed wryly. "No, no I have not. Nor have I read the books."

  "Oh, my God. We're remedying this right away. As soon we're done here, we’ll have a binge-watch session. Once you’re into season one, you'll be hooked."

  "Are you sure about that? Fantasy isn't really my thing."

  "It's so much more than fantasy. You have to see this."

  Despite his grumbling, after they finished her hockey lesson, she dragged him into the massive media room and took over the remote control. "Sit back, relax, I'll walk you through it. I'll point out who is important, and who you have to remember. Damn, I should have made a chart."

  He groaned. "A chart? Seriously? That sounds too complicated."

  "If I can learn hockey, you can learn Game of Thrones. Besides, you’re lucky. I'm here to give you a full commentary."

  Seven

  Heat surrounded Lexa, and she couldn't help but snuggle into it. She was so tired. So damn tired. And this was the best night's sleep she'd had in ages. But something was waking her. Constant talking. Familiar voices. She rolled into the heat again, and nuzzled.

  She took a deep breath. The thing she was nuzzling smelled freaking incredible. Sandalwood, and man, and—she blinked, sleepily opening her eyes. Directly in front of her lay a wide expanse of chest. She lifted her gaze. Ransom. Shit. Had she fallen asleep? She dared a quick look to his face and saw that his eyes were trained on the television.

  The show held him rapt. She squelched the urge to say, "I told you so." But she had, in fact, told him so. He didn't seem to mind the way she curved into him. They'd started this whole adventure sitting upright next to each other, and then somewhere into episode two or three they’d both lay down on his couch. The thing was enormous. Their situation should have been more companionable than intimate.

  But next thing she knew, she was curled into him like her olfactory glands were solely responsible for orgasms. Though, she should not be thinking about orgasms in such close vicinity to Ransom.

  Something must've alerted him to her wakeful state, because his gaze lowered and locked on hers. "I guess you're awake now?"

  She flushed. "How long was I out?"

  He shrugged. "I haven’t been keeping track. Maybe twenty minutes? You looked tired. Like you could use the rest."

  She yawned. "Been a stressful three months for me at work. I wasn't sleeping well for a while. I guess my body was trying to catch up on that now."

  "You can go back to sleep, if you want."

  She shook her head. "I was supposed to be telling you all about the show, though."

  Ransom grinned, and something low in her belly pulled. "Don't worry, I'm making mental notes to ask you about later."

  She grinned up at him and couldn't help herself. "I told you."

  He grinned back. But then his gaze dipped to her lips, and held for a moment too long.

  Then, a slight frown marred his beautiful forehead. Ransom dipped his head, angling it, and before she knew what she was doing, she was parting her lips.

  His kiss was soft, almost tentative. Lexa couldn't help but melt into it. She wanted this. Wanted him. She parted her lips to give him better access, and he moaned low. She could feel the rumble more than she could hear it. It made her feel—delicious. But just as soon as he kissed her, he was pulling back, the frown on his forehead deepening.

  "Shit. I shouldn't have done that." He pushed himself to standing, and she had to scramble to get out of the way. Then, she tried to stand, too, and wonder of wonders, she got tangled. She fell off the couch with a thud, and winced. Oh, real classy, Lexa. "Ransom, wait."

  "Seriously. Lexa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

  She pushed herself to her knees, and stood to face him, wishing that he wasn't quite so much taller than her, and that she didn't feel like a five-year-old trying to have this kind of adult conversation. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "No. I'm just— I need to go check—"

  The lights flickered, and then there was instant silence as everything went dark. Ransom cursed low.

  "Do you have some flashlights and candles handy?" She couldn't see him that well, because the blinds had been drawn in the media room.

  "I'll take care of it. You stay here."

  "I can help, if you'll just let me—"

  "No. I've got it. I don't need any help."

  Lexa felt his absence immediately. The room seemed somehow less full, more empty. Had that just happened? Had they kissed? More importantly, had he just run away?

  She knew better. Something like this could not end well for her. Especially not with a guy like Ransom. So, while her ego might be smarting, it was better that he’d stopped them when he did. Because if she wasn't careful, Ransom Cox was the kind of guy to break her heart.

  It took Ransom about ten minutes to get the generator turned on. And he was grateful he’d opted for solar and generator backups.

  He pulled a pan of chicken enchiladas from the fridge, and turned on the oven so he could warm them up and get them ready for dinner. If he could just focus on this task, maybe he could block out the blazing heat threatening to take over his body.

  Fuck, he'd screwed that up. He hadn't intended to kiss her. She'd been looking at him, all wide, dark eyes, and hair mussed from sleep. She looked cute. Open. It pulled at him, and then he'd kissed her. And it had been like kissing a live wire.

  The moment his lips touched hers, instant hard-on. His blood had just received a fuel injection. His heart beat so loud in his head, it drowned out everything else. Except wanting more of that.

  Holy hell. He was lucky he'd been able to stop. One kiss was addictive. She was like the most potent kind of drug, in a sweet-looking morsel. That's why he h
ad to stay away. Not so much for his sake, but for her own.

  She came into the kitchen. "I see you were able to get the lights on."

  He nodded as he put the enchilada sauce on the stove to slowly heat. "Yeah, living this far out, when I had the place built, I had them include a generator and some solar panels, too. Especially as storms like this are common."

  She licked her lips, rocking back on her heels as she played with her fingertips. "Can I ask you a question?"

  He knew what question she wanted to ask. But he was in no mood to talk about what had just happened. "Lexa, can we just call it bad judgment and move on?"

  She frowned. “I'm just trying to understand. What did I do wrong? I mean, I fell asleep. And that probably wasn't the best idea. But, one second you're kissing me, and then the next you’re acting as if it didn't happen. I'm just trying to understand."

  "There's nothing to understand, Lexa." His heart rate ticked up, and he tried to calm the panic. How was he supposed to tell her that all he'd ever wanted to do was kiss her? But he knew how this would end. No. That wasn't going to work. "Look, you're obviously beautiful. But it's not a good idea. We’re locked in this cabin together for a few days, suddenly all kinds of things can seem like a good idea when they're not."

  She winced. "Okay, then. Do you need my help with dinner, or something?"

  "No, I've got it." He shut her down. He was being an asshole. He knew it. She was just too close. Having her that close made him want things he couldn't have.

  "Okay, I guess I'll just go read or something. I found some books of your mom's in the bedroom, so…” She let her voice trail off, and strode past him.

  The problem was, he caught a hint of her shampoo. Or maybe that was just how she smelled. Regardless, one whiff, and he was goner.

  He reached out his arm to wrap around her forearm. "Lexa, I’m sorry."

  "I don't understand. I want to know what I did, you won't tell me. Look, I get it, if you're not looking for anything. I'm a big girl, I can take it. But I prefer someone to be honest with me. Instead of acting like I'm overexaggerating or something."

  Ransom sighed. "You are not the problem. I am the problem. You're great. But I know that I'm not the guy you want to start something with. Women like you deserve the whole thing. The relationship, the fun, the picnics in the park, or whatever the hell it is that couples do. I'm not that guy."

  Her shoulders stiffened and she jutted out her jaw. "Don't you think I can make my own decisions?"

  He frowned. "Why can't you see I'm trying to be the good guy here? Before I do something stupid." As soon as the words were out, he knew they were a mistake. "That's not what I meant. I just know that I'm hell on women. And you won't want me in the end."

  "That's the thing, Ransom. I do want you."

  Oh, hell. Her soft words were like a balm. He knew he shouldn't touch her. Just like he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He pulled her close and leaped over that invisible line.

  Eight

  Jesus, she tasted like heaven. Spicy-sweet, and like she could be his. Ransom licked his tongue into her mouth and deepened the kiss, bringing her up against his body. His hand slid into her hair as he anchored her, kissing her deep. Sliding his tongue in and out. Teasing and retreating.

  Lexa moaned into his mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. God, this was too good to be true. He didn't want to stop. He wanted her to see him. He wanted to keep feeling like this. Alive.

  Shit, if it was possible, he felt more alive now than he had in the championships. Lexa Carlisle was in his arms. That was all that mattered.

  With a frustrated growl, he bent down to pick her up, placing her on the counter so that they were aligned. Yes. Fuck, yes. The way his cock wound right up against her sweet center made his eyes cross. And, holy fuck, when she rocked her hips into him, he growled and gave her hair a little tug. Just the gentlest reminder that he wanted to control the pace.

  The thing about Lexa though, nobody told her what to do. She’d always been like that. Rebellious in her own way. She rolled her hips again.

  Ransom pulled back and muttered, "Fuck." She had no idea what she was doing to him. Too fast, and she wouldn’t be ready, and he needed to make love to her. He needed this. He needed her. He didn't want to scare her off, and he didn't want to hurt her. But his control was slipping. And she infused his blood with pure lust.

  She tugged up his T-shirt and slid her hands over his skin, tracing her fingertips over each abdominal muscle. Why did that feel so fucking good? He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to think of the last game. Of everyone's stats, assists, scoring, overall performance. Stats, he needed stats, otherwise he was going to—

  Lexa dragged her hand up over his pecs, and let them flutter down as she explored each ridge of muscle and bone. As she placed her hand over his heart, and she sat there for a moment, letting their pulses synchronize.

  Oh shit. Somehow, out of everything so far, that was somehow the hottest thing. His cock fought against his sweatpants, begging for release. He wanted to get out, to get closer to her. Inside her.

  "Lexa, Jesus. We have to slow down. If we don't slow down, this is not going to end well."

  She sighed and the sound went straight to his dick, and did nothing to cool the damn thing off. "The thing is, I might've wondered exactly what your abs felt like since the first time I saw you running shirtless around the track in tenth grade, so if you don't mind, I'm gonna pop the hood and have a look around, first."

  He wasn't sure if he should laugh, or kiss her again. But as she took her time exploring his muscles, his skin vibrated with need. Electricity skipping over his arms, making the hairs stand up and his skin buzz. He tightened his jaw in a desperate attempt to regain control. One of her fingers traced over the elastic of his waistband, and he held his breath. If she went down there, there was no telling what his dick would do. Instead, he quickly snapped his hand gently around both her wrists. "I'm warning you, Lexa. We go there too quick, and this is not going to end how we want." He muttered, his voice all gravel and stone.

  She met his gaze levelly, then her eyes traced over his chest again, down to his dick, where she watched the action going on under his sweatpants for a long moment, before tracing her gaze right back up again to meet his eyes. "Somehow, I doubt that."

  Wait, did she think—? She actually thought he could possibly be Mr. Premature? "Oh, no. I'll last all night. But that's not the problem."

  "Well." She rocked her hips into him again. She wrapped her arms around him. "Why don't you tell me what the problem is, Ransom?"

  With every rock of her hips, his dick got a taste of the heat that was behind her yoga pants, and he wanted in.

  He wanted her so bad he couldn't see straight. How the hell could he explain this? He could hardly say, "Hey, women have been scared off by my dick, and I'd rather you not run away screaming. So can we take this a little slower until you're begging beneath me?" No. That wasn't going to work. Instead he said, "We won't be rushing this." He kept his voice firm, made sure she understood that he was in control now. He had to take control. "I'm taking the reins back."

  Her eyes were wide, and her lips twisted into a wry smile. "Are you, now?" She rocked her hips again.

  Oh yeah, she had his number, but he was done fucking around. Ransom slid his hands into her hair, angled her head, and kissed her again. Gone were the tender kisses of earlier, the slow, leisurely licks he'd used to communicate his need, the longing, the loneliness. Instead, now he took, plundered. Took full control, owning the moment. All with that one kiss.

  She gasped. While his thumb rested right at the juncture of her pulse, he could feel her erratic heartbeat. Skipping ahead, running, running, running, racing. The problem was, all his best intentions went to hell when she made that whimpering sound at the back of her throat. She wanted him. As much as he wanted her.

  Fuck it. He had to touch her. He lifted the hem of the T-shirt that she'd been wearing all da
y, and he splayed his hand around her tiny waist. God, she was so petite. Be careful with her.

  She tore her lips away from his, and gasped on a breath. "Ransom."

  He took the opportunity to kiss along the column of her throat, to the delicate skin of her ear, and laved it with his tongue. She tasted even better here. He wanted to know exactly how she tasted all over. He wanted to know exactly how she felt coming around his cock.

  When he slid his hands up her torso, her breasts filled his palms, and he groaned. Jesus. He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and Lexa threw her head back. "Ransom. Oh God."

  He growled, and tugged her T-shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the floor, he had to see— Oh, shit. She was so fucking pretty. Full breasts that fit into his hand well. Pink, rosy nipples. All that smooth, creamy skin. With the occasional freckle here or there. "You are so fucking perfect."

  "Ransom—please."

  He leaned her back over the counter, shoving the plates aside as he leaned over her, his mouth at the perfect height for her breasts. As he teased one nipple with his thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it back and forth, plucking the bud until it peaked, he wrapped his lips around the other one and sucked.

  Lexa’s back bowed, and she slid her hands into his hair and tugged. The motion made him want to bury himself deep inside her. Quick, swift, snug, and tight. Fuck. It hadn't been long enough. She couldn’t possibly be ready.

  More foreplay. More fucking foreplay. He switched to the other breast. Teasing the one he just made wet with his mouth. Her hips continued to rotate into his cock, making it harder than steel, making it hard enough to cut diamonds.

  She tried to tug his T-shirt over his head, and he paused, only to give her what she wanted. Yanking the thing over his head, over his back, and then throwing it to match the other T-shirt he’d tossed on the floor. Fuck.

  God, he wanted to feel her breasts pressed into his chest. As he lifted her slowly over his dick, over and over and over again. Yeah, that's what he wanted.