Against the door of his house, Ransom slowly loved me. Rocking his hips in and out. Pulling out until just the tip of him grazed my slick entrance. And he kissed me softly, slowly deepening the kiss as he slid all the way back in, stretching me wide, making my head roll back. His fingers intertwined with mine over my head, and he placed one hand on my ass for extra support.

  It didn't take long. I felt my body going tight. I knew what was coming. Welcomed it. Welcomed that quiet ownership. I needed this. A couple of days with him, and he had ruined me for anyone else ever again. He picked up his pace.

  "Lexa, come for me. I need to feel you—"

  He didn't have to tell me twice. I threw my head back and screamed his name, breaking apart as he stretched me wide.

  He cursed low, and tightened his grip on my ass. He let his finger gently graze the pucker, as he increased his pace faster and faster and faster, taking me deep, taking me high. And then, when my orgasm rolled into two, threatening to break me apart, he gently penetrated me with his finger as he exploded inside me. I felt every tick, every movement, every reverberation.

  His finger in my ass was gentle and probing, nonintrusive, making me feel so…oh, shit—was that another—as his body stiffened inside me, and his finger gently probed and retreated, I came again.

  This time, I dropped my head forward and bit into his shoulder. Letting him claim me.

  I went limp, I knew that I was never going to get over this. I knew that I'd made this bed for myself. Finally found the one guy who would break me forever.

  13

  Ransom

  I hadn't intended to sleep with her again. That was not supposed to happen. That shit against the door? On the floor inside the house, in the shower, then finally, in my bed? None of that was supposed to happen. And now, with her in my truck as I drove her home, the silence was palpable, as was the tension.

  Maybe this was just us getting it out of our systems. A last hoorah of sorts. I'd told my mother I might stick around longer, but it was probably for the best if I left to do my press gigs, and stayed in New Orleans for a while. Maybe I'd fly Mom down. She could still write from my house. Maybe we'd eat our way through the city. That was a fantastic idea. And bonus, I could run away from Lexa in peace.

  Good luck with that. There's no getting her out of your blood, now.

  Next to me, she sat silently, looking out the window. She'd been insistent that she wanted to go home. That she did not want to stay with me overnight. And she was right. If I'd woken with her in my arms, I never would have let her out of my bed tomorrow. I would have kept her naked and splayed, and spent the entire day inside of her. Definitely not conducive to getting over it. What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn't I keep my hands off of her?

  Because a part of you has been dreaming about her since you were in high school. Since she'd been the cute, quirky girl, who made me laugh. Back when the only thing I'd ever thought about was hockey, and taking care of my mom. She'd been one hell of a distraction. So I'd shut that shit down. Until I'd known that I'd be going to McGill on a full hockey scholarship. But by that point, she had a boyfriend.

  So I’d worked out all my frustration on every willing and available girl at the school. Granted, back then, only one or two had been brave enough to actually sleep with me. I’d gotten a lot of blow job offers. There would always be a part of me that wished I had the balls to just ask Lexa out then. Maybe shit wouldn't be so confusing now.

  "You're sure you're okay?" I asked.

  She didn't turn to look at me. "Fine. I just want to get home."

  "Lexa—"

  "Don't, Ransom. Because you're going to say something, and it's likely going to piss me off, or make me wish that this thing with us was real. But we both know it's not. So it's better if you just don't say anything. The house is a mile away, we can drive in silence, I'll get out of the truck, then we never have to see each other again."

  "I guess you figured out your story, then?"

  I pursed my lips. "There you go again, asking personal questions like you care. I thought we just agreed that we do this in silence?"

  "Fine. Suit yourself." Why couldn't she see that I was doing this for her? That I cared about her. I wanted her to be successful. I wanted her to see herself how I saw her. How I'd always seen her. But you don't have a right to tell her that. No. No, I did not. Because I was the fucked-up one who couldn't stay away from her. And I was going to ruin her.

  I pulled into her driveway. "Here you are."

  "Thanks," she muttered.

  "Lexa, I know you're pissed. And I wish that it didn't have to be like this."

  "Ransom—"

  What the hell was my problem? Every time she wanted to tell me off, it made my dick instantly hard. I kissed her. My lips sliding over hers, my tongue sliding into her mouth.

  "I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life. But this, this is not going to work. For either of us. You just can't see it yet."

  "That's where you're wrong. I do see it. I'm already wrecked."

  I kissed her again, and she leaned into it, her tongue dancing with mine. Before I knew what we were doing, the lightning and fire exploded between us. I pulled her close, sliding my hand up her leg, to the soft juncture between her thighs, and lo and behold, she was already wet. Ready.

  All I had to do was pull her over to the driver seat, sink into her deep, and I would be in blissful heaven again. For the second time tonight. I stroked her gently, knowing she had to be sore. My hands gently fisted in her hair, and she moaned. My dick pulsed against my jeans, begging for an exit, as if to say, "Put me in, Coach."

  But then Lexa tore away. "Jesus, Ransom. Enough. I have tortured myself enough. I can't do this with you. My battery-operated boyfriend is going to get a lot of use for the foreseeable future. Possibly forever. But I am not sleeping with you again. Because then I'll be an addict and begging for it. I'm done."

  She pushed open the door of the truck and ran across the lawn to the front door.

  I could only watch in frustration when she didn't look back. When she opened the door, and closed it, turning on the lights in the front hall, I leaned back in my seat. Shit.

  I was home in a matter of minutes. The moment I opened the door though, I missed her.

  How was it that every part of my own sanctuary reminded me of her? That was hardly fair. Even the damn game room. All I could think about were the hours we spent down here, as I explained hockey, and we tried to play a little. Hell, her scent was still in the air.

  Something on the wall caught my attention. One of my medals was in the wrong place. I remembered Lexa touching them, asking questions about them, but she hadn't taken any off, had she? I moved it to its correct location, and gave up. Trying to blow off steam was not going to work when the whole house smelled like her.

  Only one thing was going to do the trick, and that was seeing her again. Maybe I could just talk to her, maybe we could be friends. Liar. I could do that, not that I was completely obsessed with her or anything. We could be friends. Friends who have previously seen each other naked. No big deal.

  Who the hell was I kidding? I was such a goner. It was like I was going through withdrawals. I had to stay strong. Sooner or later, I’d get over it. Maybe it was a good idea to put some distance between the two of us. Because right now, being in Hope, I was far too tempted.

  That's enough. It's time to stop. Get the hell out of Dodge, and leave Lexa Carlisle the hell alone.

  Lexa

  * * *

  I dragged the pillow over my head to cut out the harsh ringing of my alarm. Dammit, why did the world have to intrude?

  After several attempts at snoozing the alarm, to no avail, I belatedly realized it was the phone ringing. Reaching over several more inches, I picked it up from where I'd been charging it. Ella. I'd call her later. I declined the call and rolled over again, pulling the blanket with me.

  I'd slept fitfully after Ransom dropped me off. I was exhausted, and, like a moron, I missed him. No. You do not miss him. You will be just fine without him. I was just going to pack up my stuff and get ready to leave tomorrow. I could still help out the Hope Gazette with a couple of stories here and there. I didn't have to be home for that.

  Besides, I'd taken enough of a vacation from my real life. I was honest—with my article, anyway. I turned that in, and would take the next assignment sent to me, no matter how crappy. All the while, I would job hunt.

  Ransom was right about one thing—I could do anything. I just had to figure out how to go after it.

  My phone started to ring again, and I groaned. "Jesus, it's only seven in the morning. What the hell can you want now?" I muttered as I declined the call again, attempting to turn over. My sister just called back undeterred.

  I yanked the phone from its plug and answered. "Dammit, Ella, what do you need? What is the big fucking emergency? Do you have any idea what time I got home last night?"

  "Yeah, I have some idea. And I have to tell you, I'm kinda shocked you even left his place."

  What? My blood ran to ice. I sat up and clutched my pillow to my chest. "Ella, what are you talking about?"

  "Sweetie, I need you to open your laptop and go to TMZ."

  "Why?"

  "I don't want you to freak out.”

  What the hell was going on? "What the hell is happening?"

  "Just get your laptop."

  I dragged my laptop off the desk, sat up straighter, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I opened the machine and typed in the address to the gossip site. When its landing page appeared, I stared, openmouthed. "Oh, my God. Oh. My. God."

  Ella's voice was calm. "Just breathe. Breathe deep. It's okay. We'll take care of it. Most people won't know that's you, they did get one facial shot, but it's grainy, you can always deny it. People might not even know. I only know, because I knew what you were wearing, and I'd know your face anywhere."

  "Oh, my God, Ella. What am I going to do?"

  The paparazzi had gotten a photo of me and Ransom at his place. Against the door. Several photos, actually. With my face contorted in several versions of ecstasy. Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit. And as if that wasn't bad enough, there was an accompanying story.

  Handsome Ransom was the title.

  The famed hockey star went back to his roots for some good, old-fashioned, homestyle loving. And looks like the hockey player with the movie-star good looks is up to his old tricks again, breaking hearts all around the world. Though, if the rumors are true, in this case, he's breaking a lot more than hearts.

  Oh God. How had this become my life? How was this happening?

  The story went on.

  It appears that Mr. Cox—except the story spelled it like Cocks—and his lady friend pretty much said to hell with all the rumors about the size of his man parts and gave it a go. From the looks of it, she couldn't even wait to get inside. We are all just hoping she can walk this morning.

  Tales of his equipment and playability aside, there's a new rumor circling around Ransom. And it's not about how long he kept that poor girl screaming his name. An unnamed source claims that there's a reason Handsome Cox is a hockey and a bedroom god. It runs in the family.

  And then I saw it. The side-by-side photo. One of Ransom, and the other of a guy I didn't know, but they looked enough alike to be brothers. I read the name: Fox Coulter. Oh, shit. I frowned. Of those Coulters?

  The unnamed source stated that Handsome Cox is a long-lost grandson of Rory Coulter. Before you shame us for rumormongering, TMZ has acquired the birth certificate of Sherry Cox, Ransom's mother. Father is listed as none other than Rory Coulter.

  Inserted was a copy of Ransom's mother's birth certificate. I sat up straighter. "Oh, shit."

  I had forgotten my sister was still on the phone, until I spoke. "Okay, good, so you're seeing it. Right now, no one knows it's you. We can get an injunction or something. They have to take this down."

  "That's not what I'm worried about."

  I laughed. "You mean that other shit. Clearly, they're making it up. Just because he and that hottie, Fox Coulter, look a little bit alike, they're leaping here. I mean, you can get anyone to doctor up a fake birth certificate. Ridiculous paparazzi shit. Our main concern is that picture."

  My sister had no idea. This time, the paparazzi had it right. I had to talk to him. How would anyone have found out? "Ella, I'll call you later, okay?"

  In minutes, I was out of the shower and throwing on the nearest clothes I could find. I drove like a maniac to Ransom's. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw his truck was there. Thank God, he was probably home. I threw my car into park and scrambled out, running to his front door, hoping no one was watching. Hoping no one saw. It's probably too late for that. I choked back a bubble of hysterical laughter.

  I banged on the front door. Come on, open up. When he didn't answer right away, I banged again.

  It took several minutes, but he finally came to the door. Soaking wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Oh. Shit.

  You do not have time for this. Right. Not the time to think with the libido. I shoved him inside, slammed the door behind us. "I am so sorry."

  He raised his brows. "For what? Interrupting my shower? While I'm confused about why you're here, I'm assuming you're rethinking what you said at four o'clock this morning?"

  Yes. "No. Have you seen TMZ?"

  He frowned. "I don't follow the paparazzi. It's a bunch of garbage."

  "This time, they got it right." I ran to his laptop, opened it, pulled up the website, then turned the computer to face him.

  He stared. "How… Shit. That would explain why my phone is blowing up. I can hear it vibrating even now upstairs. I've just been ignoring it. Look, I'm sorry about the photo. I'll have my lawyer see what we can do about it getting taken down. It's not a real clear shot of you, so you should be okay. I don't think anyone saw us get into the car together."

  "That's not why I'm here. Keep reading."

  He turned his attention back to the screen. And then scrolled down. I could tell the moment he'd read the part about the Coulters, because he stood up perfectly straight and then snapped his attention to me. "Did you do this?"

  I blinked. "Me? No. How? I wouldn't do this."

  "I told you about my mother. I've never told anyone. You've been talking about getting your career back with a big story. I just didn't think you were the kind of person to do it standing on my back."

  "Ransom, I would never do this. Forget about not doing this to you, I would never do that to your mother. She lives her private life. This is none of anyone's business. I didn't tell a soul."

  "You really expect me to believe that? Since you, me and Mom are the only people who know? I'm sure she didn't tell anyone. My mother's kept that secret for fifty years. You're the only one who could have told anyone. You're the one who needed a big story."

  My stomach rolled as bile rose. "You think I could do something like that? I came here to see if you're okay. To give you a chance to warn your mom."

  He scowled at me. "Are you sure you didn't come to get more of a story? I should have known. I left your place last night thinking I'd fucked up. Thinking that maybe I had it wrong. That maybe the reason I felt the way that I did was because you were different."

  I backed up and clutched the end of the kitchen island, my knuckles going white. I tilted my chin up at him. "I didn't do this. I wouldn't hurt people just to get what I want." I licked my dry lips. "Now, I really see. You didn't care about me at all. If you did, you would know that I'm not capable of something like this. Don't worry, you'll never see me again. But, do everyone a favor and warn your mother, before she goes out not knowing that everyone has seen this."

  I turned my back on him and walked out, not bothering to look back.

  * * *

  Hell. This was hell.

  14

  Ransom

  For two days, I had been fighting with my lawyers to get the photos taken down. Paparazzi rumors about me and my women were one thing. It was a whole other thing when they went after my mother.

  To get to Mom’s house that morning, I’d taken the old access road off of Route One and come straight to the back gate. The dirt roads were still a sodden, muddy mess, but since I had my truck it was no problem. And it was the perfect way to avoid the paparazzi.

  Getting out of my house though, that had been a gauntlet. As I had no fence, they felt welcome to come nearly as close as my damn doorstep. Granted, my proclamation that I had a shotgun had the photographers backing the fuck up.

  Knowing I was working on the problem had me feeling calmer. I just wished I could say the same for my mother. She was a nervous wreck and losing it.

  "Mom, you have to settle down. Would you please just drink some tea and sit?"

  She waved me off and continued to pace. "I just never thought anyone would find out. I know what my mother put on the birth certificate. I know what she'd always told me. I just never had any intention of contacting the Coulters or asking for a piece of the pie. But Jesus, Ransom, I've got paparazzi camped out on the doorstep. I can't even go to work."

  "I know. And that's why I think you should let me take you to New Orleans. At least for a couple of weeks until this dies down. Hell, I'll give the press something else to talk about before I let them harass you anymore. Just take a vacation. You can do work from there. They can send you your assignments. Or you could even do travel pieces. I know you've always wanted to travel more, just let me do this. Because this is my fault."

  "This is not your fault, Ransom."

  The guilt washed over me. What the hell had made me confide in Lexa? "Yes, it is. I never should've opened my mouth, never should've said anything to Lexa. I never even considered that she could do something like this."

  My mother's head snapped up. "Listen to me. I know what you think, but she didn't do this. It could have happened any number of ways. There's more scrutiny on you because your team won. And, you do sort of look like Fox. A lot like him, actually."