“Might be longer than an hour for what?” I ask, backing away slowly and entwining my fingers together behind my back. My skirt swishes around my thighs as he approaches, and I keep backing up, until I'm standing in front of the large stainless-steel doors of the sub-zero fridge, shivering as the cold metal touches the backs of my thighs.
“You know what,” Ranger says, putting his forearm above my head, azure eyes swirling with hot-blooded intent. “Now get naked and put on an apron.”
I shiver with delight as he goes to move away and then pauses, turning back just briefly to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
I notice that before he gets out the newest batch of ingredients, he pauses to put Tobias' proffered condoms into the pocket on his apron.
Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, I get to do it with Ranger Woodruff! I think, biting my lip and then cringing when I draw the slightest tang of blood. Standing up and exhaling, I smooth back the perfect ringlets of my sandy blond hair, glad that I made the decision not to bleach or straighten it this year. I kinda like it the way it is.
“Are you sure you're okay?” I ask him, moving over to the cabinet with all the aprons in it and browsing through a few before I find a black one with pink cupcakes all over it, lace and ruffles galore at the pockets, hem, and neckline. There are even little jeweled hearts on the pockets that I suspect could easily be real diamonds. Fucking rich people. “This can't be easy for you, to learn all this stuff about Jenica and your dad.” I lean my elbows on the edge of the counter as Ranger gets out an avocado, some honey, a banana … My eye twitches. I'm okay with trying kinky stuff, but maybe not that kinky.
“It's not easy,” he says, looking over at me, quietly fuming. His blue-streaked black hair falls across his brow, his tattoos peeking out the edges of his apron. “But it’s better to know the truth than be left wondering. Now stop stalling and get naked.”
Pursing my lips, I step back and reach up to pull on the edges of the ribbon I'm wearing as a bowtie. It slithers off my neck and drops in a puddle of silk on the floor next to me. Ranger's watching, removing the lid to the blender as he studies me, my fingers shaking as I slip out of my champagne colored blazer and start to unbutton my shirt.
“Back at my mom's house, you couldn't wait to strip down and get naked. But now you're scared?” he asks, leaving the supplies on the counter to come over and help me, pushing my trembling hands aside and sliding his fingers down the bit of bare skin showing between the parted halves of my shirt.
Exhaling, I close my eyes and try to maintain some level of composure.
“I'm not scared,” I say, which is true. “I mean, not of you.”
Ranger pauses with his fingers on the lowest shirt buttons, hovering just above my belly button. I open my eyes to meet his sharp gaze, his leather and vanilla scent that perfect mix of bad boy and sweet thang. I want more of it.
“Of the cult?” he asks, and we both shudder at the mention. “We're going to get to the bottom of it, for you and Jenica both, I promise that.” Ranger finishes unbuttoning my shirt and then pushes it off my shoulders. As soon as he sees the bright blue bra with the tiny pink bow that I'm wearing underneath, his cheeks heat up. “Fuck, that's adorable,” he whispers, putting his hands on my sides and making me tremble with suppressed need.
This tension between us, it's been there from the very beginning, since I barreled into him at full speed, running from … Mr. Murphy with a knife. So weird. Anyway, it's finally coming to a peak, and I'm ready to tumble down the other side.
Ranger slides his hands up my sides, palming my breasts and making me shudder.
“The bra or the boobs?” I whisper, and a low, throaty chuckle escapes from him.
“Both,” he says, sliding his hands behind my back and undoing the clasp of the bra. As the cups fall forward, I reach up to cover my nipples, blushing furiously. Ranger sighs, but not in a bad way, in a longing sort of way. “You're so goddamn cute,” he murmurs, turning my skirt around on my hips so that the zipper's in the front. “Even as a boy, with your dirty glasses, your floppy hair …” He unzips it and lets it fall to my feet, leaving my matching panties, garter belt, and knee-high socks exposed. “Jesus Christ.”
“There you go with that word again,” I choke out, but I'm finding it very hard to breathe.
