Ronan had been over-thinking the whole situation. He and Georgie were healthy, consenting adults—no reason they couldn’t have a little fun passing the time until the storm broke. She wasn’t looking for a damn marriage proposal. All that fairy tale shit was in his head.
“Georgie?” He tossed his coat onto the kitchen table that would now live on in infamy, looking around in the darkness for his feisty redhead. Much as he hated to admit it, he owed her an apology. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner they could pick up where they’d left off. It was Christmas Eve, visions of her sweet sugarplum ass were dancing in his head, and it was long past time to go balls deep. “Where you at, Cupcake?”
Nothing.
The place was too dark, too quiet. All the candles had been extinguished. Even the fire was dim, left to burn down to a few glowing embers in the hearth.
Bella sighed, and something inside him twisted into a big-ass knot.
No. No fucking way.
Would she really just bail like that? Where the fuck could she possibly go?
“Georgie? Come on. I got something to say to you.”
With Bella on his heels, Ronan grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen junk drawer and jogged up the stairs, poking his head into every room, calling her name.
No response.
The girl was just… gone. Her luggage. Her coat. All she’d left behind was a whiff of that sweet vanilla scent, her torn panties, and the small green bag she’d been so desperate for in the shower. Ronan found it abandoned on the bathroom counter, and he yanked open the zipper, revealing a hefty supply of orange bottles.
Not conditioner. Prescriptions. Lots of them, all with names he didn’t recognize but was pretty sure they weren’t for low blood sugar.
What the hell?
The car was still at the bottom of the driveway, and neither he nor Bella had seen or heard any other cars pull up, which meant she took off on foot. And she’d forgotten her damn meds.
Worry kicked into overdrive.
Fucking Georgie. One stupid argument, and now he was in for a search-and-rescue.
Standing in the bathroom doorway with her tongue hanging out, Bella eyed Ronan curiously, as if he had all the answers.
He used to think so. He’d been all over the globe, had seen the best and worst humanity had to offer. But in the several hours since he’d met Georgie, he was starting to realize he didn’t know jack about shit about squat.
Ronan sighed and palmed the dog’s head. “Keep watch for me, Bells. I gotta go get that pain in the ass and drag her back here for a good spanking.”
Assuming you find her, dickhole.
CHAPTER 13
T racking Georgie wouldn’t be hard—the security camera footage confirmed that she’d stashed her luggage in the car, then hit the road on foot about ten minutes later, heading toward town.
The issue wasn’t how to find her, but how soon Ronan could catch up. Her car was still blocking his driveway; he had no choice but to walk, and time was the enemy in an exposure scenario. Georgie didn’t have the proper winter gear, and at this altitude, even twenty minutes in the elements could lead to severe hypothermia… and that wasn’t even taking into account her medical situation.
Ronan was fucking clueless.
I must be a real bastard for her to risk this shit just to get away from me.
Fresh guilt gnawed at Ronan’s guts. He yanked the hood up over his head and picked up the pace, marching through her footprints in the snow alongside the road as the unforgiving wind whipped him in the face, making his eyes water.
No less than you deserve, asshole.
There wasn’t a single vehicle on the road, and the beam from his headlamp was like a giant reflector, bouncing off every damn snowflake. It was like being trapped in a snow globe. Every time the snow let up for a second, someone picked up the world and gave it a good hard shake. He should’ve brought his night vision gear, but he’d been so anxious to get to Georgie, it was all he could do to fill up a thermos of coffee before he bolted out the door.
He followed her half-buried trail down the main road until the footprints forked onto a service road that led into Rocky Mountain National Park. Ronan hoped like hell she hadn’t gotten too far ahead. The snow was deeper here than on the main road, and a mile or two in, she’d end up in the back country.
Or worse.
Eight thousand feet up, there were plenty of places to fall off the edge of the earth.
Come on, Cupcake. Where are you?
Fifteen minutes of hiking, and still no sign of her.
Ronan was about to go back and get his night vision gear and the truck, plow right over her car and drive down the mountain until he found her. But then the beam of his headlamp snagged on something pink shuffling down the road thirty yards ahead.
“Georgie!” he shouted, breaking into a run. He tripped twice and nearly face-planted in the snow, but he had to get to her. She couldn’t even hear him above the wind, and it seemed like she wasn’t walking in a straight line. He could tell from the footprints that she was dragging ass, barely lifting her feet.
Ronan pushed himself harder and faster, his lungs burning, his feet slipping, his whole body charging through the snow until she was finally within reach.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, more than ready to tear her a new one.
But the sight of her tear-streaked face knocked the wind out of him.
Georgie was shivering head to toe, her cheeks bright pink, her nose running, her pink lips as pale as death.
She was in trouble. Serious fucking trouble. And in that moment, impossible and crazy as it sounded, Ronan knew without a doubt that Georgie Taylor had become a hell of a lot more to him than a warm place to bury himself on Christmas Eve.
“Hey,” he said gently, clicking off the headlamp to get it out of her eyes. “It’s gonna be alright. Just talk to me. Okay?”
Georgie didn’t respond. Wouldn’t even look at him.
“Talk to me, Georgie. Don’t screw around. I need to know exactly what you feel.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Any numbness? Dizziness? Blurred vision?”
She finally met his eyes, but she was shivering so hard she could barely get the words out. “Don’t… don’t act like you care.”
Shit. Her breathing was labored, puffing out of her mouth in thick, white clouds.
He reached into his coat for the thermos of hot coffee and unscrewed the cap. “Drink. Small sips.”
She glared at him, but finally obeyed, taking the thermos between her mittened hands and bringing it to her lips, bathing her face in steam. The mittens were crusted with big, white chunks of snow that melted instantly against the hot metal.
She seemed okay. Trembling from the cold, probably uncomfortable as hell, but not confused or uncoordinated. He couldn’t tell what condition her toes were in, but she didn’t appear to be hypothermic, and the coffee was going down easily.
Ronan unzipped his coat and pulled her close to his chest, wrapping her up in his heat. “You scared the shit out of me, Georgie.”
“Yeah?” Georgie wiggled in his arms, but he wasn’t letting her get away. Not this time. “Well you… you pissed me off.”
Feeling better, I see.
The wind buffeted his back, blowing snow down all around them, but Georgie was just getting started.
“I don’t know what your problem is, Ronan Steel, but you need to get your shit together. Seriously.”
That anger must’ve been fueling her pretty good, because the color had returned to her lips, and now she struggled against him in earnest, pushing on his chest, desperately trying to pry herself out of his arms. If he let her go, he had no doubt she’d make a break for it.
“I need to get my shit together?” Ronan bit back a bitter laugh. “I’m not the one who needed a search-and-rescue. Twice in one day, if we’re keeping score. So forgive me if I don’t agree with your keen analysis of the situation
. And by the way, next time you decide to take a stroll through the park in the middle of a storm, you might want to bring your meds.”
“You went through my things?”
“Hey, Cupcake. You bailed. Technically they’re my things now.”
She took another sip of coffee, then glared at him some more. “You are the very definition of bad idea. I never should’ve—”
“Never should’ve what, Cupcake?” The laughter finally spilled out of him, spurred on by his own adrenaline and the insane way she was making him feel. “Never should’ve crashed into my driveway? Knocked on my door? Hiked halfway down this mountain in a crazy-ass storm with no gear?” He dipped his head, his mouth so close to hers they were sharing the same white breath. “Or do you mean the part where you spread your legs and offered up that pussy like I was first in line at the all-you-can-eat Christmas buffet?”
Georgie shoved him so hard he nearly stumbled backward, but he held her in a vice grip anyway, righting himself before they both fell.
“You are such an asshole!” She banged her mittened fist against his chest, fresh tears filling her eyes. “What in God’s name made you so mean? Because you’ve got heartless bastard down to an art form, Ronan. People aren’t just born that way.”
“Yeah, you got me there, Cupcake. I wasn’t born this way at all. The world took its sweet-ass time carving out my heart.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said.
Ronan scoffed. “Tough shit. It’s the only one you’re gonna get.”
“What happened to you?”
He opened his mouth and took a deep breath of icy cold air, so close to telling her to fuck off. To saying something so cruel and cold, it would give new meaning to the phrase “heartless bastard”—something that’d shut her up until the storm passed and she finally got the fuck out of his life.
But then out of nowhere she pulled off one of her mittens with her teeth and slid her hand against his cheek, smoothing her thumb across his lips, her big blue eyes full of something so fucking rare and beautiful, it made his chest ache. He couldn’t even give it a name.
One touch, one look, and Georgie had completely diffused him.
Ronan kissed her palm, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of her skin. When he finally found the words to respond, his voice was no more than a scratchy whisper, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes again, so damn afraid that he’d fall right into them, lost forever. “There are things in this world, Georgie… things I’d give my life to keep you safe from.”
She didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just stood on her toes and leaned into him, brushing her cool lips against his cheek, whispering words that cut him deep in the best possible way. “I missed you.”
Georgie was all out of fight. She didn’t even pretend to argue when he scooped her up into his arms and held her against his chest. Her whole body trembled with cold and exhaustion, and he could feel her heart slamming against her rib cage.
He wanted to throttle her for being so stubborn and stupid, for putting both of their lives at risk just because he’d pulled a dick move back at the cabin. But more than that, he wanted to hold her close. To keep her safe. To take care of her.
And that feeling—the feeling of being responsible for another human being, and wanting that responsibility, welcoming it—scared the ever-loving shit out of him.
“Hang in there, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her ice-cold forehead, tightened his hold on her, and started the arduous trek back up the road. “I’m taking you home.”
CHAPTER 14
“Y ou could’ve fucking died out there, Georgie. Jesus Christ.”
Ronan was beside himself as Georgie shivered on the couch, still trying to warm up. Once again he’d carried in all her luggage, and once again she’d used up all the hot water in the shower. After that, Ronan had wrapped her in a down blanket, dragged the couch right up close to the fireplace, and spoon-fed her half a can of chicken noodle soup, but the girl was still an icicle.
He wanted to kill her.
And then he wanted to kiss her.
The thought of losing her—the thought of anything bad happening to her—had done something to Ronan, cracked open a part of himself he’d long thought buried. And now that it had been unleashed, he couldn’t lock it down again.
He didn’t want to.
“I’m okay,” she said, teeth chattering. “The fire’s helping. You’re helping. Both of you.” She nuzzled Bella’s face. The dog was practically sitting in her lap. From the moment he’d brought Georgie back inside, Bella hadn’t left her side, keeping watch outside the bathroom door while she’d showered and dressed.
Ronan tossed another log on the fire, stoking the flames. “Look, I know I ain’t always the perfect gentlemen, but how could you just… what if I didn’t come after you, Georgie?” He tossed the fire poker aside and fixed her with a glare.
Georgie shrugged. “But you did come.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Uh-oh. Now I know you’re mad. I set you up for the perfect sex joke, and yet—”
“I’m serious, Georgie. What were you thinking? Why?”
“Because I’m crazy?” She stretched out her legs, wiggling her toes before the fire. “My mom says I have impulse control issues now. Sometimes it’s like my brain just… checks out. I get this urge to do something and I just… I go for it, consequences be damned.”
“I get it, Cupcake. I do.” Hell, impulse control had been Ronan’s middle name for most of his life, and he’d left a trail of bodies—literal and metaphorical—in his wake as a result. But those days were done. And Georgie was too good to go down that road. “But what you did tonight? Shit like that’s a one-way ticket to the E.R.—and that’s if you’re lucky. You walk that line enough times, one day you end up on the wrong side of it, no way back.”
“Or maybe your life starts out on the wrong side to begin with, and walking the line is your only way out.” Georgie’s eyes glazed with tears, but she wasn’t sad or scared. She was fired up. “I spent too many years living my life through the window. I was on the inside, looking out as the whole world passed me by. Then one day out of nowhere I got a second chance, and I made a promise: Not another minute on the inside looking out. That’s not living. It’s a death sentence.”
She held his gaze, and Ronan waited for her to fill in the blanks. To explain that second chance. He suspected it had something to do with the medications she’d left upstairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Fucking Georgie. The girl had him twisted up in more ways than he could count.
Shooing Bella onto the floor, Ronan sat down at the end of the couch and took Georgie’s feet into his lap, working them over one at a time until he finally felt her relax. The fire crackled and popped, and a comfortable silence drifted between them, Bella and Georgie both sighing contentedly.
Home.
The word popped into his head without warning. But before he could even think about denying it, Bella trotted away upstairs in search of something more interesting, and the moment was gone.
Georgie scooted closer, draping her legs over his lap, her ass right up against his thigh.
Ronan massaged her calves, Georgie moaning in shameless pleasure. Even now, sleepy and half mad at him, she was still so responsive to his touch. He didn’t want to stop. He wouldn’t; whatever time they had left, Ronan would spend it with his hands on her. Naked, clothed, he didn’t even care, as long as he didn’t have to stop touching her.
But despite their physical proximity, something still sat between them, a chilly distance that Ronan needed to close.
Now.
“Georgie. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad before. You know that, right?”
She didn’t respond, just watched him closely, waiting.
Fuck, she’s not gonna make this easy.
“I was a dick,” he said.
Nothing.
“A total asshole.”
Nothing.
“A dick wrapped up in an asshole, tied up in a big red Christmas bow, with dicks and assholes stamped all over it.”
That one almost got a smile, but she erased it before he could be sure.
Ronan sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“When you say ‘before,’” she finally said, holding up her fingers for the countdown, “do you mean when you made fun of my costume?”
“No, I—”
“Or when you called me an idiot for driving in this weather?”
“Georgie, it’s—”
“How about when you snapped at me for wanting hot chocolate, even though that’s a perfectly reasonable holiday request, and a simple ‘I don’t have any’ would’ve sufficed?”
“I said I was—”
“Or when you sawed off my underwear and left me on the floor after you did all those… all those things to me?” Her eyes were full of fire, but her neck and cheeks blushed that gorgeous Bali sunset color again, and she couldn’t hold his eyes. Not even for a minute.
Guess we found your kryptonite, too, Cupcake.
“Did all those things to you?” Ronan’s voice was dangerously low, his dick stirring at the memory of her lips, her tongue, her soft curls in his hand as he fucked that mouth. “I know I’m a first-rate asshole—and you’re just hitting the tip of the iceberg with that list of yours, believe me. But don’t you dare suggest you didn’t want those things. You were drenched. You were red-hot. And you were begging me.”
Georgie forced out a dismissive laugh, but Ronan saw right through it.
He slid his hands between her legs and squeezed her thighs, making her squirm. “In fact, if I were a bettin’ man, I’d wager you’re thinking about those things right now, wondering when—not if, but when—I’m gonna do them again.”
“Too bad,” she muttered. “You’d lose that bet.”
“Doubt it.” Ronan slid out from under her legs and climbed on top of her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her down on the couch. Her eyes widened, her tits swelling against his chest as he hovered over her. Her mouth was parted—half in question, half in desire—and he brushed his lips over hers, making her breath catch. He kissed her lightly, dragging his mouth to her ear. “See, that’s the thing, Cupcake. I am going to do those things to you again,” he whispered, his dick growing hard as she trembled beneath him. “Maybe right now.” He kissed her neck. “Maybe in an hour.” Her jaw. “Or maybe later, after you fall asleep.” He brought his lips to her ear again, barely able to control his own ragged breathing, his thumping heart, his throbbing cock as he felt every soft inch of her beneath his hard body. “Maybe I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll scream my name in your dreams.”
Snowed In with the Bad Boy (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 1) Page 7