three
Ramsey
This isn’t me. I don’t let men get close. It has to be the golden eyes. Maybe it’s his strong arms as they wrap around me. Or could it be the feel of his large hand engulfing mine? It’s all of that and more. Could it be his brutal honesty and the openness I see in those honey-colored eyes? It has to be the way his hand feels as it trails slowly up and down my back. It’s his woodsy scent and the way he just met me, but it already feels as if he knows me.
Not at all what I expected.
Realizing I’m wrapped around him like a spider monkey, I ease my hold, pulling back. I’ve never had a man be so patient and kind with me. My hand rests against his cheek, and the texture of his beard is foreign under my palm. My ex was clean-shaven, as was my father. I can’t explain my desire to just feel the rough of it against my skin.
“Ramsey.” Deacon’s voice is gruff, pulling me out of my thoughts. His eyes are darker, full of something I can’t name. “Can I touch you too? Your face, I mean?”
I nod, because speaking is out of the question. There’s a lump in my throat the size of the entire state of Georgia. Slowly, he raises his hand. I don’t know if it’s to not spook me or to give me time to change my mind, but as soon as his warm palm is pressed against my cheek, I close my eyes, letting the soothing touch of his skin seep into me.
“Ramsey.” His voice is clipped but has me opening my eyes all the same. “Can I kiss you?” His eyes widen just a fraction as if he can’t believe he asked the question. I wait for a few heartbeats for him to take back his request, but he remains silent, waiting patiently for me to answer him.
Slowly, I nod.
His thumb caresses my cheek. “I’m going to need your words this time, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” I say without an ounce of hesitation. It’s sad that this man will be the first that I kiss by my own choosing. To me, this is my first kiss. That’s the only explanation for the way my heart is racing.
“You sure?” He leans in close.
“Y-Yes.”
“Palmer?” he calls out for his sister.
I stiffen. Is he toying with me? One strong hand grips my thigh, which is still locked tight around him, while the other softly caresses my cheek.
“What’s up?” I faintly hear her ask.
I’m still as I wait to see what’s going to happen. I’m not even sure that I’m breathing. When he opens his mouth to speak, and his words register, I pull breath into my lungs.
“You’re going to want to make sure you get this.” That’s his final warning to either of us before his lips descend on mine.
I freeze, my body goes rigid in his arms, which causes him to pull back. “Ramsey?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I swallow hard. I know that he’s not him, and the fact that I was expecting him to be as rough with me as Robert is an insult to Deacon. Guilt hits me hard as my eyes find him. “Can we… maybe do that again? I-I wasn’t ready.”
“She wasn’t ready,” he muses, a smile pulling at his lips. The rough pad of his thumb glides over my bottom lip. “Are you ready now?” he asks in that deep timbre of a voice that has desire pooling between my thighs.
I bob my head.
“I need your words, sweetheart.”
“Y-Yes.”
He leans in a little closer. The hand gripping my thigh tightens. “Are you sure?”
The way he’s asking for permission sets my anxiety at ease. I trust Palmer, and Deacon is her older brother. My best friend is standing three feet away from us. He’s not going to hurt me. That curbs my anxiety, but then I remember Palmer is watching, and it rises again.
“She’s watching us.” My words are whispered. I know my best friend, and she’s going to dissect this entire day. She’s going to see something that’s not here. We’re just pretending for the camera lens.
“That’s the point of this, right?” His voice is low so that the conversation remains just between us.
“Yeah, but that’s a lot of pressure,” I confess.
He moves the hand that was gripping my thigh to rest on my cheek as well. On instinct, I lift both of my hands to cover his, holding him to me. It’s not lost on me that his touch is soothing. I’ve never associated a man’s touch as being anything other than unwanted.
Until Deacon.
“Pretend that it’s just us. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about the camera. It’s just you and me.”
“Just you and me,” I repeat.
“You have the control here, Ramsey.” His tone is soft and delicate while being deep and gruff at the same time. He’s being so tender with me. “You want to stop. We stop. No reasoning required.”