by Harlow Stone
Ryder brought me a photocopy of the journal as most of the stuff was then taken over by the police. It finally all fell together, just not for the reasons I thought. It didn’t take me long to read it, but the answers were there.
The reasons I was stalked.
The reasons I was hated.
The reasons my family died.
The reasons I would be attacked.
Back in university, I had once comforted Andrew after he had an argument with his girlfriend. He had just paid her rent and then found out she was cheating on him. When Laura and I walked past the bench he was sitting on I set my hand on his shoulder and said, “We’re not all that bad, give it time and you’ll find a good one. I promise.”
I was the first woman to give him hope.
Apparently Andrew worked with campus security doing technical stuff for them, thus giving him access to the security tapes where he watched my every move, becoming infatuated with me. When he put two and two together that I was the one who his brother was calling for help, he enlisted Matty in his plan to keep an eye on me. Taking pictures to make sure the bad men never came to hurt me. Andrew preyed on his innocent brother, tearing lives apart in the process.
It wasn’t until I got pregnant with Lilly that he started to change. His infatuation turned to hate. Leading him to not only take my family from me, but to eventually end me as well. He wrote of suffering and pain, all of which I had caused him by not being the beautiful, kind woman he thought I had been.
There is no doubt in my mind Andrew had issues. Braumer’s blood running through his veins ensured that. That’s the most unfortunate part—Braumer. If it weren’t for Andrew’s obsession, none of this would have happened. Braumer was a sick fuck, yet had I not killed his son I wouldn’t have ended up with him in the basement that night. But then I wouldn’t have met Matty either.
This all started in a cold concrete room and it ended there.
Full circle.
Detective Miller and another male officer had questioned me in the hospital. I was fortunate enough to be let go, despite the fact that all the questions hadn’t been answered. I’m not sure how Ryder or Miller pulled that all off. All I know is that due to my ‘lack of memory’ and lack of evidence regarding what happened in Andrew Robert’s basement, I was free. Since there wasn’t a soul who would push for a trial, and after everything that came out when Braumer attacked me in the basement (which I had to relive again while speaking to the officers), I was free to go.
Miller mentioned something regarding evidence at Braumer’s that suggests he may have killed his own son, but I let it go. I know whatever it was wouldn’t be true, and if it was planted I have a good idea who put it there.
I want nothing to do with any of it, it’s over and I need to move on.
“C’mon, beautiful.”
Ryder’s heady voice pulls me from the past and I follow him to the rear patio door. His house hasn’t changed, not that I expected it to. The men from Callaghan Security stayed for a little over a week after Braumer attacked me. Ryder stayed the whole time. After I got out of the hospital we didn’t leave Jimmy’s spare bedroom until it was time to go home.
Home.
I’d like to say I missed the cottage, and I missed North Carolina. I did in a way, but that’s not what going home was; going home was being with Ryder and this just happens to be where we are most comfortable.
Strong arms wrap around my front and warm lips touch the top of my head. “She missed it here.”
I nod my head in agreement as I watch Norma wade out into the cool water. The look of sheer happiness on my dog’s face as the sun sets on the other side of the lake will forever be ingrained to my memory. “That she did,” I reply.
I lean back against him, content and exhausted. Denny was kind enough to drive my BMW back from Canada along with my belongings. That left Ryder and I my other girl. My 1969 black Chevelle. With just an overnight bag in the trunk and Norma in the backseat, we made the trek home, arriving just in time to watch the sun go down.
“You hungry, beautiful?”
I open the door as Norma comes to it, “No. I just want to relax right now.”
Grabbing my hand, Ryder leads me toward the stairs. It’s a beautiful wooden staircase, open and airy just like the rest of his house. I watch briefly as Norma settles on the dog bed Ryder bought her before I follow him upstairs to the loft.
I could never see much from downstairs, but I had only been here twice. At the top of the staircase, I look to the right and notice a spare bedroom and a small bathroom. Between the two is an open area with a big window overlooking the water and a couple of comfy chairs. Ryder pulls me to the left into his bedroom.
“Wow Ry, this is stunning.”
On the wall to the right is a king size bed, complete with slate-grey sheets and a cover dark enough it reminds me of his eyes. Holding my hand, he shows me the master bath which has a beautiful glass shower, complete with a bench and a rain-style shower head.
My favorite.
The walls are a soft grey color and the double vanity is black. To the left is a large tub, big enough for two, set underneath a window overlooking the water.
“I didn’t take you as a decorator, but damn this is really nice, handsome. It still smells freshly painted.”
He chuckles lightly and kisses my forehead. Placing his hands on either side of my face he says, “That’s because it was finished while we were in Ontario.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “You like bath’s, beautiful. Can’t say I’m much of a bath man but I got some old friends of mine that own a construction company to come and put a tub in and repaint. Up until last week it was just an empty space.”
I look into his dark eyes. “No tub?”
He shakes his head. “No tub.”
Confused, I ask, “but who doesn’t have a tub?”
He grins at me. “I didn’t. Now I do. For you.”
Sometimes you meet people in life and wonder if they could get any kinder, any more thoughtful, any better than you already know them to be.
This moment proves the answer to be yes, you can. Because just when I think Ryder could not possibly top what he’s already done, he has. Leaning up on my toes, I press my lips to his.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to, but thank you.”
Deepening the kiss, he moves his hands down my back and under my rear. Knowing the drill, I wrap my legs around his back and allow him to carry me to bed. It’s been a little over two weeks since we made love. Between my battered face, the constant headaches and my useless left arm, Ryder just held me every night. I’ve slept a lot these past few weeks, he has as well. While we haven’t been intimate in every sense of the word, I know it’s what we needed.
I needed to know he was there, and he needed to know that he could keep me. It felt good, letting that part of myself go. The part that hangs onto everything and controls every situation. It felt good to just be needed, and Ryder enjoyed being the one to provide that to me.
After he undresses me like he always does, revealing me like a present and cherishing me in every way, he puts us to bed. I snuggle into his side, and he pulls my chin up to press his lips to mine. “Sleep, beautiful.”
Resting my head on his chest I listen to his heartbeat, grateful for the sound of it and content enough to close my eyes.
For the first time in years, I feel it.
I’m home.
Chapter Twenty-three
Ryder
I watch her as she slowly wakes. It’s early, and she’s not much of a morning person but we went to bed before dark and I know the smell of coffee will wake her even though the sun’s not up yet. I watch her eyes flutter, waiting to see their beautiful, green intensity. The swelling is gone from her face, but she still has that light yellow tinge from the bruising. Her stitches were taken out of her head before we left Ontario and I hate the two inch mark on her flawless skin. I fight with myself constantly to not remember that day.
The day my woman was almost raped and killed.
The day I killed Detective Braumer.
As good as it felt, I wish I made him suffer more. The scar from her temple to her forehead fuels it. She’s still the most beautiful woman in the world to me, but if I hate the reminder I have to wonder if she does too.
I don’t talk about it, and neither does she. After that day in the shower at the hospital it was like we both silently agreed that that was where it would end. If she needs to talk, I’m here for her. I will be until the day I die. Until then, I keep my shit in check and do whatever I can to make her happy, and it pleases me to do so.
Not wanting to wait any longer, because I’m a pussy when it comes to her and I have no patience, I wrap the grey sheet around her body and lift her from the bed making sure to avoid hurting her arm. It still bothers her, so I take extra care and hold her close while I carry her out to the balcony at the end of my bed.
The double doors are already open, letting in the cool morning breeze, but she won’t mind. I watch her face as the dim light of dawn touches it. She opens her eyes and it hits me right in the heart, much like every other time. I’m the lucky bastard who she first lays her eyes on every day, and the light in her greens when she does so is something I will never forget.
I’m hers, and she’s mine.
That’s what reflects back and forth between us in that look, and the day that doesn’t get my dick hard is the day you can call me a stupid son of a bitch.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I watch the tip of her lips as she leans closer, pressing her lips to my neck.
“Morning, handsome.”
I feel her yawn against my skin and I press my lips to her head, then her nose, then her mouth. She smiles back at me and I hope I never have to run my thumb across her forehead to smooth out her frowning when she sleeps.
I love my feisty woman, her stubbornness and sweetness complement each other. I love her sass, I love her wit and I love her attitude. But when I’m holding her in my arms, and her face is calm and content, her body relaxed and heartbeat even—she’s fucking beautiful.
And she’s mine.
“Oh my god,” she says. Her eyes have left my face and she sees where we are. She was exhausted last night, and although I know she didn’t miss the double patio doors off of my bedroom she definitely missed what she’s looking at.
Her double-wide lounge with the giant, red cushion that matches my furniture on the lower deck is now up here. “I had Denny bring it over when he got back,” I say to her.
I walk toward it and lay her down on what used to be her favorite thinking place. The place I watched her sit until the wee hours of the morning and the place she drank her coffee every day. I don’t have the back up, but I put a few cushions on it as pillows. I already brought extra blankets outside before she woke up this morning as well so she won’t be cold.
The small table beside the lounge has two coffees sitting on it, but I don’t bother handing one to her yet. They’ll most likely be cold by the time we’re done.
Fuck it, I’ll make new ones.
Spreading her out below me, I grab the thick comforter I brought out and pull it over us as I settle myself between her legs. She brings both hands up to my face, careful with her right arm and gently brings her lips to mine.
“Thank you handsome, I’m feeling like an ass because you thought of everything and I’ve done nothing. You’re making me look bad.” She lets out a little laugh, semi-joking but I know she’s serious. Elle does everything for everyone. She may come off as a cold-hearted bitch, but when she loves, she loves hard and does whatever she can for those closest to her.
“For starters, you could never look bad because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Second, you love the fuck out of me, remember? So I’ll forever be the one that’s looking for ways to feel worthy of that.”
Her eyes go soft and that’s another thing I love about her. I’m not sure what happened since this last attack, and I do hope to fuck it’s the last, but when I tell her she’s beautiful I know she gets it.
She finally fucking gets it.
I watch as her eyes get a little glossy before her sexy, raspy voice says, “I do love the fuck out of you, handsome,” and following that statement she gives me the most breathtaking smile.
The one I’ll never forget.
Not waiting any longer, I press my lips to hers, running my tongue along the seam of her lips asking for entrance. She gives it to me, and when the heat of her mouth hits mine I devour her. Soft, but aggressive enough that she will get everything I’m saying in the way my mouth moves with hers.
I grind against her, not able to prevent myself from doing so. I’ve been hard since I woke up and her naked body is underneath mine. She gasps, wanting it just as much as I do.
“I need you, Ryder,” she says between breaths that are few and far between.
“I need you too, Elle,” I tell her as I move my mouth down her neck, across her collarbone before pulling one of her pert nipples into my mouth. I circle my tongue around it before moving my hand down the side of her toned body. When I reach the back of her leg I pull it up so she can hook it around my back.
I smooth my hands up the back of her thigh and over her luscious ass before they find her wet center.
“Please don’t tease me this time, Ryder.”
I chuckle around her tit, I’m not teasing her. I’m making sure she’s ready. I was a little worried these past few weeks, not just how she would react after almost being raped but also worried how I would. I’ve never been here before, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate through something like this.
We soon found our rhythm though, and it seemed we both just wanted to be there, for each other. We found our solace together after that nightmare, and I have no intention of teasing her or making her wait.
I can do that later.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, beautiful. Not this time.”
She sighs when I pull my fingers out from between her legs, and being the selfish bastard I am I pull my lips from her nipple in favor of putting my fingers in my mouth. I love all of her. Her smells, and definitely her taste. I watch her pupils dilate as she watches me. I know she loves watching me taste her; she just needs to know I love it more.
Her hands move down my back, and she uses her right arm, the good one to pull me forward. Releasing my fingers from my mouth I hold her head in my hands, and press my lips to hers before pushing inside.
“I love you, beautiful,” I whisper against her lips. She wraps her legs around my body and I push in to the root, watching her eyelids flutter in pleasure.
“I love you too, Ryder,” she says, followed by the moan that I love.
I roll my hips into hers, and she pushes back against them. It’s not fast, it’s not slow. It’s what Elle calls my ‘punishing pace,’ which brings her to orgasm.
Every. Single. Time.
I move my arm under her back, pulling her closer to me if that’s at all possible. All I know is that I need to devour her. Make us one, in every form of the word. The warmth of our bodies are a stark contrast to the cooler morning as I worship this woman underneath me. I hope to convey that through every movement of my body.
Every touch.
Every kiss.
“You’re close,” I tell her, because I know her body better than I know my own. I know every sensitive spot. Every freckle, every scar. I know all of her and yet I want to know more.
I want everything.
“Keep your eyes open, beautiful. You know I need your eyes,” I plead with her. She nods, too far gone for words but I watch as the green of her eyes turns brighter and the light sheen of unshed tears threatens to run down her cheeks.
“I love you so much, so fucking beautiful.”
She clamps her internal muscles down on my cock and I watch as her mouth opens, fighting for air, unable to stop sounds of pleasure from deep in her throat. “Agghhh, fuck!”
She barely gets the curse out of her mouth before I swallow it with my own.
I roll my hips, once, twice, three times before burying myself to the hilt, emptying everything I have inside in her, unable to stop the growl from my mouth. The nails of her right hand still dig deep into my back and her body shivers and shudders underneath mine as her orgasm runs long throughout her body.
I press my damp forehead to hers, not bothering to pull out because she’s warm and I know she likes me there. Her smooth hands run through my hair and around my jaw, holding my mouth to hers as she whispers, “home.” It was said so softly, if I wasn’t this close I wouldn’t have heard her.