Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)(103)

“You were right,” I said, voice soft. “That day here at the studio, you were so damn right. I wanted to stay there in the past with Emily and I think it was because I couldn’t let go of what I’d done. Because even though it was awful, it was familiar, and I was scared of what might happen if I let myself feel again. But, with my mom almost…God, I can’t even say it, but seeing her there on that bed, watching my father fall apart completely from the fear he felt, I understood what all that hiding did to me.”

I came close enough to Aly that I felt the faint hairs on her arm brushing against my hand, but she still made no move towards me, and I didn’t feel as if it would be right to reach out and touch her, not yet. “It weakened me, blinded me, so that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” When Aly looked down at her fingers like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to listen to me continue, I slipped my hand over them, bringing her attention to me. “I don’t want to be blind anymore. I don’t wanna be weak and God knows I don’t want to keep lying to myself.”

“Lying to yourself?”

“About you.” My fingers went to her face like they moved on their own, brushing the small curls from her eyes. “About what I feel when I’m with you.”

“Ransom, it’s not the same. What you said to Kona, it opened my eyes. You still love her, I understand that. She was your first love. You never really get over your first love.”

“No, it’s not the same. I do love her. I’ll always love her, but with you it’s different.”

“How?”

She didn’t stop me when I leaned in so that her mouth was just there, close enough that her breath warmed my bottom lip. “I don’t ever want to stop loving you.”

Aly’s eyes unfocused and it took her a second to let my words penetrate. I saw how she opened her mouth but didn’t seem able to speak. Finally, through an exhale, she whispered my name. “Ransom, it isn’t that simple.”

“No,” I said, moving my forehead against her. “No, it’s not.” When Aly frowned, I held her face, needing her to hear me, to understand. “I only know you take my breath away. I only know that you make me want to try. You make me want to stop drowning in the shit I did to myself.”

“It’s not…”

“Aly…” One head shake and I tugged my shirt over my head, reached for the bandage on my chest and Aly stopped fighting me. The spot was still sore, still ached from the work I’d had done that morning. It had taken three hours away from my family. Three hours to undo something I thought I’d never wanted to be rid of. Until Aly.

She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the cover-up tattoo. It was simple, something that meant more to me in that moment than the memory of my first love. A large hibiscus covered the angel and the initials of my parents, my siblings edged the leaves. “I only know that I love you,” I told Aly and she snapped her gaze to me, those beautiful features softening as my words penetrated the stubborn hold on her argument. “I never want to stop feeling that. I never want to stop trying to be everything you need.”

She hesitated for a second, keeping her gaze on my face and then, Aly took my lips. Her touch was firm, strong and I loved the strength of her hands on my neck, pulling me closer. I closed my eyes, relaxing against those hands that went to my back, up to my shoulders, just so Aly could scrape her fingernails over my skin.

Aly touched me like she never wanted me to back away from her, like my lips on her neck, working on her shoulder was some kind of bliss she’d never stop wanted.

“Ransom,” she said so quietly I wasn’t sure it wasn’t a sigh.

I leaned back, smiling when Aly touched my face. “What do you need, baby?”

She exhaled and the scent that caught in my senses was delicious. “You, sugar. I need you.”

And right there on the studio floor, I touched Aly King because she asked me to. I kissed her bare stomach, those tempting, beautiful nipples because they belonged to me. And she let me kiss her skin because she said she’d missed how it felt. “This is like coming home,” she said when I pushed my hands under her back.

Nothing could have been clearer to me then, that from here on out, Aly would mean home. I would no longer be adrift. I would no longer have to hide between my shame and my guilt simply to have something to hold on to. Aly was my safety net. She would not only save me, but she also would bring me home. To her. To us. To the potential we could find in each other.

And when I slipped inside of her, I did it slow, watching her face, loving the feel of her sharp features and soft, flawless skin. “Home,” I agreed. She opened to me, took everything I gave her like she knew everything I had was hers.

It always would be.





25





“Makana means ‘gift,’ right?”

Ransom had explained his baby sister’s name once we’d left the studio two days ago. But when we hadn’t come up for air until the next night, Kona’s pervy radar was on high alert. He kept hinting and remarking about the way we walked, and how relaxed we were with each other. Asking questions about his new baby was about the only way I had to distract him.

“That’s right,” he said, bringing the baby to me. “Beautiful, just like her mama.” Kona winked at Keira who watched me closely as I sat down with the baby. Kona lingered, just a little, couldn’t seem to stop kissing her forehead or rolling around that single curl that twisted at the top of her dark, thick hair.