Their eyes meet mine, moving to Ransom’s, and as if they’re one, they both nod, small curls hitching the corners of their mouths and then turn back to the screen.

Something cracks in my chest and I flick my gaze to the TV, uneasy.

This is... a lot.

Because for the first time in maybe ever, I too have a sense of comfort, of calm, and it’s nearly enough for a part of me to want to kick them out, but the larger part, the buried, reckless part—the part that I got from my real father—never wants to leave this room.

That part wants to hold on to the boy at my side and give him things I’m not so sure I’m capable of, but he makes me wish I were.

He makes me want to be.

He makes me wish I was in control of what I want.

Ransom has never expected a thing of me, was there when he had no reason to be, and seems to enjoy the messed-up side of who I am. He doesn’t bend at my will, but he doesn’t discount my voice either.

Ransom being Ransom senses when I slip inside my mind and get lost there.

He scoots lower on the bed until his eyes are level with mine.

Perched on his elbow, he stares down at me.

He’s incredibly sexy, far from pretty, but rough and alluring in only a way he can accomplish.

Without realizing, my hand lifts, my fingertips ghosting over the edge of his sharp jaw, and he dips his head, so his lower lip can get a taste of me.

His blue eyes search mine, for what I’m not sure, but I think he finds it as his mouth curves with rawness, softening his features.

“Beretta told you,” he whispers.

My ribs constrict. I’m not sure if he’s talking about his sister or about his own struggles, and I know there is more to be told, but I nod.

“You know it was only me, right? That they were never inside you? It was only me.”

He scowls at his own words, as if pained by guilt or embarrassment, but I reach up and wipe it away with my thumb.

“Yeah, I know,” I breathe, and attempt to settle him a little. “...but they did touch me.”

I fight my grin, but it spreads rapidly, and Ransom growls playfully, gripping my hand before it can fall and pinning it above my head as he climbs on top of me.

My legs decide to fall open for him and he eases between them, his cock hard and ready and gliding along the thin fabric of my sleep shorts.

He grips the blanket, tugging it up over our heads, and I briefly register the lights in the room dimming as the volume on the TV grows louder.