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H e’s so big. Like I already knew that, but up this close, it’s something else. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about other guys at a time like this or comparing, but I can’t help it. Daniel’s really does seem so… how do I put this? Immature in comparison.

I mean, he knew how to use it as a weapon, but as I stare at the thick heaviness bobbing before me, veins coiling up to the ridge of the tip, I can honestly say nothing I’ve seen compares to this.

I should be scared. I really feel like I should. This thing is a weapon. A tool to take. To hurt. To destroy. It wields so much power. Yet as my gaze shifts back up past Ringo’s blood splattered tee to lock onto his eyes, so intense as he looks down at me, I don’t see a weapon.

I see want .

Perhaps lust.

But I also see restraint.

He may only want me because I’m on my knees before him, but he won’t act on it. He won’t force me. He’ll endure the blue balls that will come from holding back, and I know he won’t try to make me feel bad about that.

This place is something else. One could say it’s inhabited by a bunch of thugs. Brutes. Monsters.

Sure, Ringo is a monster, but he’s the right kind of monster.

My monster.

“Thanks for helping me out of my pants, Angel.” He smirks, one corner of his lip kicking up a fraction before he steps back and does that thing again, reaching behind his neck and peeling off his t-shirt.

It’s slower than last time, what with his obvious injuries from being beaten.

His eyes don’t meet mine again once he’s fully naked. This man has no shame, and with good reason. Even battered and bruised, he’s a work of art, and where I once saw an old guy, I now see nothing but a man built to protect.

He took that beating because of me. I don’t care how he tries to spin it. I’m the reason he’s hurting right now.

As he reaches over the bath to turn the shower on, I stand, needing to back away from his dick and the unusual urge I have to reach out and touch it. Here I was thinking I could train myself to only like girls and hope that one day I could find a woman to spend my life with, never wanting to see another penis again.

Cameron Musgrove sure showed me.

Not even waiting for the water to reach the right temperature, Ringo steps over the lip of the bath and under the raining water, while I stand there like a perv watching the way rivers of water run down his tanned skin, making his tattoos appear darker.

“Angel, would you mind finding Jols and asking her to bring some ice packs?”

Ringo’s voice startles me out of my perverted stupor, my gaze darting to his face to see that I’ve been sprung.

“Ahhhh, yes, of course.” I nod, spinning on my heel and darting out of the bathroom.

My cheeks are on fire as I step back outside, my gaze searching the crowd for Jols.

I spot her off to the side talking quietly with JD, who is the one to spot me, and gestures for Jols to follow him my way.

“How is he?” JD asks, clearly concerned, which is confusing. I’m pretty sure his punch was the hardest.

“He asked for ice packs,” is all I say, not really wanting to tell this man if Ringo is good or bad.

“I’ll grab some.” JD nods, turning quickly and walking away, leaving me with Jols.

“Are you alright?” she asks, and I nod even as I shrug.

“I don’t understand this world.”

She nods, reaching out and giving my arm a squeeze. “I know it doesn’t make sense to outsiders. But just remember, it’s because of the way we choose to live that your friend thought Ringo was the best option for keeping you safe.”

Lexi. Yes, she did choose him for that reason, and I guess I can see why now.

“Even so. It’s hard to watch someone you care about get hurt and just stand by and not do anything.”

Jols’ smile spreads wide. “So you do care about him. I knew I was picking up on something between you two.”

“What? No.” I shake my head, trying to backtrack. “He’s just protecting me. Kind of like a big brother.”

A deep chuckle comes up beside us and we turn to see JD has returned, ice packs in hand.

“I’m pretty sure it’s fucking illegal for a brother to look at you the way Ringo does, kid.”

I roll my eyes and Jols giggles.

“Right! And there’s no way he’s that good of an actor.”

Wagging her brows at me, Jols bumps her shoulder with mine, and once again my face heats.

“Thanks for the ice packs,” I mutter, snatching them from JD and hurrying back to the room, their laughter following me all the way there.

Back in the room, I stand outside the bathroom door, unsure if I should go back in.

Maybe he sent me to get ice packs so he could have some privacy. Maybe he needed to fix the erection issue.

I step backwards and return to the room, not knowing what else to do, so I sit on the end of the bed, staring at the ice packs chilling my fingers.

A couple of minutes later, I hear the bathroom door open, and when I glance up, Ringo rounds the corner, a trail of water running from his neck, over his pec to bead on his nipple.

I want to lick it off.

Wait. What?

OMG, where is my head at lately?

“Thanks for the ice packs,” he grunts, his eyes locked onto me and I nod, quickly standing and holding them out as he approaches, a towel wrapped around his hips, sitting low.

Oh my…

I need to get out of here. I’m feeling way too hot and hungry. So hungry. Just not for food.

“Hey,” he rasps, hooking his finger under my chin, and I realise I’ve been staring at the V that disappears under the towel. “Serious question. You doing okay?”

Am I doing okay?

I consider that.

A week ago, my parents locked me away, forced drugs down my throat, and were determined to make me marry Daniel the next morning. But then this man kidnapped me. Terrified me. Chased me. Forced me to sit on his lap for hours in a car. And then…

Well, then, so much has happened. I’ve been scared, distraught, angry, aroused more than I’d like to admit, confused, and finally when I started to feel safe, the cops came, assaulted the men and women before announcing they were looking for me, and then tonight, my protector was beaten in front of everyone.

I shouldn’t be okay. I know I shouldn’t, yet as I stare into Ringo’s dark eyes, just him and me in this crappy motel room, I can honestly say that I am, in fact, doing okay.

“I’m alright.” I nod. “Just worried about you.”

He chuckles. “I don’t break that easy, Angel, but if you’re offering some TLC, I won’t refuse.”

I smile at that. “So you’ll let me look after you without whining about it?”

“I never said that.”

I giggle as he releases my chin and moves to his bed.

“Come and lie down with me. Put on some of that god awful noise you call music.”

I roll my eyes at his back, watching him slowly lower himself to his bed.

Shit. He is really hurting.

“I’ll have you know, One Direction is one of, if not the best band to ever exist.”

He scoffs at that, laying back and stretching out on his bed.

“They’re a fucking boy band. No boy band is the best band to ever exist.”

This time I scoff. “All four of their albums debuted at number one on the charts. That didn’t happen just because they are pretty.”

A deep belly laugh rumbles from Ringo as he points at me. “That’s exactly why they did so well. Bunch of pretty boys stealing little girls’ hearts. They aren’t even together anymore.”

I glare at him. “I’m not opposed to stabbing you.”

His laugh gets louder, the sound infectious, and I have to fight really hard not to join him. “Stop it.” I protest and he gives his head a small shake.

“Nope. I’ll never stop giving you shit for your music taste.”

“I suppose your music is soooo much better?”

“Grab my phone and get your fine arse over here and I’ll show you just how good my music taste is.”

Why does that sound suggestive?

And why does it excite me so much?

Just like his puppet, I take his phone from the bench near the fridge and move back to the bed, climbing on my side and settling against the headboard next to him.

He holds his hand out for his phone and I give it to him, picking up the ice pack resting on his thigh, and pressing it to the lump on his forehead .

A moment later, music flows from his phone, the strum of a guitar instantly piquing my interest.

“Who is this?” I ask, and he places his phone on the bed between us before picking up the other ice pack and pressing it to the other side of his face.

“Staind. They’re a rock metal band.”

I nod, hearing the lyrics start and instantly getting ensnared.

“They are good,” I admit, feeling the heart and soul in the lyrics.

“Told you my music was better.”

I playfully slap his shoulder. “I never admitted that. No one is better than 1D.”

Even though I can see the corner of his lips kicking up, Ringo remains quiet, his eyes closed as the music fills the room.

I like him like this. It feels personal somehow. Like not many people get to see him this way.

Playful.

Quiet.

Comfortable.

That’s when I realise that I too feel that way.

For so long, I’ve been in flight mode. Always on edge, just waiting for everything to explode.

And they did, numerous times. But now, even though one could argue that perhaps I’m not in a very safe environment, I do, however, feel safe.

Not even my parents could give me that.

“I’ve been here for a week,” I say quietly, watching Ringo’s face for a change in his expression.

There isn’t one.

“I know. ”

“Are you going to send me away?”

This time, there’s a slight shift. His lips thin a little, and he sucks in a deep breath.

“No, but I need to find somewhere else to keep you safe.”

My shoulders relax at hearing that. I know I’m getting attached to him when I shouldn’t be. I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps that’s my toxic trait. Becoming too attached. I was like that with Daniel. It happened so quickly, just like now.

“Where?” I ask, not liking the idea of not knowing where I’ll be going.

“Not entirely sure, Angel.” Ringo sighs, moving the ice pack so he can glance up at me. “I’ll figure it out. Can you give me a day or two to recover from this?”

Guilt. It slams into me hard.

“Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be pushy or—”

“Stop,” he demands, and as always, I obey. “You’re not being pushy. You’re just asking a relevant question. I’m not annoyed about that, Angel.” He takes my hand from holding the ice pack at his forehead. “If I sound grumpy, it’s only because the pain is kicking in. It’s not you, I promise.”

“Shit. Do you want some meds or something?”

He shakes his head, still peering up at me.

“What about, like, illegal drugs? I’ve seen the white powder stuff they’ve been using out there. Do you need that?”

This time his smile is big. “You’d get me some blow if I wanted it?”

I shrug. “I guess. If that’s what you need.” Whatever the hell blow is.

He threads his fingers with mine then, and my heart does a little flip .

“I don’t drink or do drugs, Angel.”

I frown at that.

“You don’t? But why?”

He does a one-shouldered shrug. “You’ve seen how quickly an emergency can happen around here. We need to be alert all the time, and since I’m the Sergeant in Arms, I figure it’s my duty to make sure I’m coherent every second of the day.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility. Don’t you want some down time?”

“Nah. I prefer to keep busy.”

I study him, wondering if there’s more to it than that. He’s just so hard to figure out.

Ringo yawns, stretching a little as he does, the towel slipping a little lower on his hips.

“You should sleep.” I rush out, dragging my gaze from the part in the towel, like I’m secretly hoping it spreads further to reveal what’s underneath.

Maybe I am.

You pervert, Abbey.

“Stay with me?” he asks, and my perverted-ness rushes away at his tone.

He sounds so… vulnerable.

“Of course,” I say quietly, shuffling down until my head hits my pillow and I roll on my side to watch him.

There are emotions swirling inside me that I’m not used to. I hate seeing him beaten, yet I love that he likes to share the quiet moments with me. It feels special somehow.

I stare at him until his breathing deepens and evens out, and then eventually, I must fall asleep, too .

I’m not sure how long I sleep for, but when I wake, the night is quiet, darkness is still beyond the window, and Ringo is still sleeping soundly next to me.

I get up and use the bathroom, slipping out of the hoodie for a few minutes to put on some more deodorant, since I’m sweating more than usual tonight.

I can’t tell if the air is thicker or if it’s just me, but I don’t feel as cold as I normally do.

Even so, I slip the hoodie back on, smelling Ringo wrap around me, the simple act somehow quieting any chaos that started up in my head.

Returning to the room, I get a cold bottle of water from the fridge and guzzle half of it down, watching Ringo as I do, still sleeping peacefully.

There’s just a hint of light filtering in through the thin fabric of the curtains. Light from the courtyard beyond. There’s a streak of it running diagonally across his abdomen and chest before slicing over my pillow.

The way it hits his skin kind of makes the white in his tattoos glow. I move back to the bed, placing the bottle on the side table and shifting to sit on the mattress where I was lying minutes ago.

I’m so tempted to reach out and touch where his tattoo glows. I bet it’s hot. And soft. And smooth. Would he feel it if I touched him?

My gaze darts to his face to see he’s still sound asleep, his lips slightly parted. I lick my own lips, the urge, no, the desire to kiss him scaring me a little.

Why do I want to touch and kiss this man so much?

The flutter of that ache between my legs has returned. Thoughts of earlier today, or perhaps that was yesterday now, returning to me like a teasing slap.

I watched him pleasure himself. I actually lay in this bed touching myself while he jerked off in front of me. I even let him taste me off my own fingers.

Ohhh, that was so hot. So intimate.

Heat gathers between my legs, familiar and aching.

Why does this man have this effect on me?

I want to touch him so badly. I want to see what his skin feels like. I want to lick it and taste it. I want to be the one to give him pleasure.

It’s too late when I realise what I’m doing, stretching my arm towards him, my finger hovering over his hot flesh before it finally makes contact and brushes over the hard ridge of his abs, feeling the satin of his skin, hot and tempting.