Page 7 of Ruthless Convict
I'm talking about more than just his time behind bars; the heat in his dark gaze tells me Austin understands.
“You couldn’t say the wrong thing if you tried.” Austin’s tone is suddenly urgent and intense. “Please don’t walk on eggshells around me. That’s all I want.”
My heart is pounding in my chest. For once, the rapid pulse fluttering away behind my ribs doesn't make me white-knuckle my grip on reality. This isn't the stress of anxiety or worry trying to claw its way up my throat. There's an excitement building inside of me. I've been spilling my soul out to a fantasy version of Austin for two years. Now that he's finally here, the reality is even more intense than my dreams.
“Alright,” my voice is as shaky as I feel inside. “I won’t treat you differently from any of my friends.”
Austin makes a noise low in the back of his throat, considering.
“That’s better,” he steps closer to me, invading my personal space. “But still not quite right.”
Austin smells clean and masculine. Like soap and pine trees and worn leather. This close, I can make out the detail in his sleeve tattoo. It's a woven tapestry of colors and abstract landscapes. Like an open sky that he always has with him. My heart breaks a little all over again at the thought.
“Oh?” I look up into the rich sienna of his eyes.
It's like standing at the foot of a mountain and gazing up at the peak. Austin isn't just tall; he soars upwards like a skyscraper made of muscle and ink. He cups my face in one massive palm, the rough pad of his thumb brushing my cheek. My eyes close involuntarily at the touch. His skin is warmer than the summer air around us.
“No, Ruthie,” Austin growls low in his throat as his thumb skims across the trembling swell of my bottom lip. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
I’m alone with Austin on the far end of the jogging path. There isn’t anyone around in the half-light of sunrise. He’s so much bigger than I am. Dangerous, according to everyone else. Austin’s hand could easily slide down to wrap around my throat, and there isn’t a thing I could do about it. Logically, I know I should be afraid. Instead, I feel alive for the first time in two years. The surge of excitement in my chest and the liquid pull of desire low in my belly tangle together until I can’t distinguish one from the other.
For once, exhilaration doesn’t melt away into a sickly-sweet panic.
My lips part, and I draw the calloused pad of Austin's thumb into my mouth. He tenses, sucking in a sharp breath. We stand like that for a long heartbeat, me tracing patterns on his thumb with my tongue as the sun rises beyond the Hollywood Hills.
"I'm going to kiss you now, Ruth," Austin's voice is strained. Tight with the same arousal and attraction that's coursing through me. "I don't want to scare you."
“You couldn’t scare me if you tried,” I throw Austin’s words back at him with a coy smile that makes me feel brave.
Heat flares in his eyes, and I feel the matching tug of hunger low in my belly. Austin doesn’t ask again. His hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck, where he fists the tumble of curls and pulls me against him. It isn’t tight enough to hurt, but the implication is there— a snug grip that holds me in place as Austin leans down to claim my mouth.
It isn't the tender wisp of a first kiss. This is a brutal meeting of lips and breath as Austin delves into my mouth, slipping his tongue along mine. I moan, and he swallows that too. Need and desire flare inside me, sparking a chain reaction of knotted emotions.
He holds me there, tight against the solid mass of his chest and the insistent press of arousal through the grey sweatpants he’s wearing. Another sigh escapes me as I run my hands up and down the defined ridges of his abs and back. My hands are everywhere, moving with restless energy all their own.
A sharp bark and the tinkle of a metal collar snap me back to reality. Austin releases his grip on my hair, and I jump away. Heat crawls up my face as shame joins the turmoil of emotions raging inside me.
“Good morning, Ruthie!” Mrs. Faulkner and Brutus round the walk, wearing matching fluffy robes. “I thought we wouldn’t see you this morning.”
I’m completely off schedule and hadn’t even noticed. I shake my head, trying to clear it.
"Oh, you must be the new maintenance man." Mrs. F's eyes fix on Austin just as Brutus comes bounding over to him. "My shower refuses to heat up, and I have a big date tonight."
She pats the pale white fluff of her hair and winks suggestively around the deep-set wrinkles that line her eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, but Austin’s face is the picture of concerned interest.
“Well, that won’t do at all.” He steps away from me to address her, and I miss the heat of his body immediately. “Lead the way, and let’s get that fixed for you.”
“Wonderful! You are certainly fast and efficient, aren’t you?” Linda Faulkner and Bruiser shuffle off down the sidewalk cheerfully.
“You have no idea.” He’s looking directly at me when he replies.