“Now we just have to wait an hour and we’re good to go,” Ramsay announced, striding over to the couch and pausing when he saw me. “Whoa, what’s with the long face, Matheson?”
“Ah, nothing,” I said, trying to sound upbeat but failing. “Just thinking about the weight of the world on my shoulders. You know, the usual.”
Ramsay sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. “You can spill your guts to me. I won’t judge.”
“Thanks,” I sighed. “I guess it’s just hitting me how weak I am. Hell, apparently I can’t even cut a dandelion properly.”
Ramsay rolled his eyes. “Mathe, it was an accident. That doesn’t make you weak. It just makes you human. Besides, most people would lose a fight to a knife, don’t you think?”
I chuckled at the mental image. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Not me, though,” he teased.
I grinned. “Yeah? You’ve fought a lot of knives in your life?”
“Oh, absolutely. See any scars on me?” He gestured to his flawless skin. “That proves I’ve won ‘em all. You should see the other guy.”
I started flat-out laughing now. “You are ridiculous.”
Ramsay smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Maybe. But I made you laugh.”
I grew quiet as Ramsay’s gaze lingered on my mouth. My cheeks flushed with heat again. The only sound I heard was the chirping of crickets outside and the rapid beating of my own heart.
Ramsay reached for my bandaged hand and gently lifted it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to it. He didn’t pull away immediately like he did when his fingers brushed my lips before--this time, he stayed for a few moments. Tingles of excitement curled in every inch of my body. My chest seemed to throb with the heaviness of my heartbeats.
Ramsay shut his eyes, his dark blond lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and he exhaled softly. Finally he drew away, letting my hand back down gently into my lap.
“A kiss to make it heal faster,” he said.
I tried to open my mouth to joke, but nothing came out. My throat was thick and full of cotton.
“Y’know,” Ramsay murmured, “before all this, I always thought you were pretty cute.”
He leaned in and I sucked in a breath. He spoke close to my ear, his breath touching my neck and making me shiver.
“But now I see you’re notjustcute. You’re hot.”
I swallowed a whimper.
But then Ramsay pulled away and lounged back in the leather seat. He crossed his arms behind his head. “For an East Pack wolf, anyway.”
I huffed, my cheeks flooding with heat. “Oh, you are such an ass.”
I picked up a pillow and threw it at the shit-eating grin on his face.
“Oof! Hey!” Ramsay sputtered.
A mischievous sparkle glittered in Ramsay’s eyes. But before he could grab the pillow on the opposite end of the couch, I launched myself at him, wrestling his arms. We laughed as we rough-housed like a couple of teenage boys, free and uncaring what anyone thought of us. I managed to pin Ramsay’s wrist to seat and I sat on his chest triumphantly.
“Ha!” I said.
Ramsay smirked. “I’m only letting you win ‘cause you’re the guest.”
“Uh huh. Sure.” I squeezed his wrists harder, making his fingers curl inward. “But I’m on top, not you.”
“On top, huh?” Ramsay licked his lips. “That the position you prefer?”
I was taken off guard by his comment. A choking noise escaped me, and Ramsay took the opportunity to flip me with ease. He straddled my waist, putting his entire weight on me so I couldn’t get up.
