Page 3 of Her Outlaw Prisoner (Vanishing With the Rebel #1)

Ronan

I’m restless.

It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I last saw her, and I hate that I’m feeling like this. I’ve spent five years at Oakdale controlling every aspect of my existence. I don’t crave things. I don’t let myself want things. Wanting leads to weakness.

But Eleanor…she’s under my skin.

Eleanor.

I say her name in my head too often. Feel her touch against my skin long after it’s gone.

No one has ever made me feel like this. Not in the five years I’ve been locked up.

Not in the years before that. I don’t get distracted.

The one time I did, I lost the most precious part of me.

Ever since, I swore never to let my guard down.

But with Eleanor, it’s hard to keep my guard up. Everything about her—her soft smile, her daring warm hands, and those dazzling hazel eyes…

I need to see her again.

I roll my shoulders and glance over at Chase, my cellmate. He’s perched on the lower bunk, sharpening a dull razor against the metal bed frame. He’s been in and out of Oakdale long enough to know how things work.

“You busy?” I ask.

Chase doesn’t stop sharpening. “Depends.”

I smirk. “I need to get to the infirmary.”

That makes him pause. He glances up at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Jesus, Ro. You’ve been at the infirmary every damn day since that new nurse showed up.”

I don’t respond. I just wait.

Chase grins. “You sweet on her or something?”

I don’t move. Don’t blink. Just let my silence do the talking.

His grin fades a little. He exhales and tosses the razor aside. “Fine, fine. What’s the deal?”

“I need an injury. Minor. Enough to get me sent in, but nothing that’ll slow me down.”

He leans back, crossing his arms. “And what do I get for it?”

I already knew this part was coming.

“I’ll double your cut next week.”

His brows shoot up. “Double?”

“On the condition that you don’t ask any more questions,” I say, holding his gaze. “And not a word about this.”

He whistles low, shaking his head. “Shit. She must be something if you’re throwing around that kind of money.”

I don’t answer.

He studies me for a second, then shrugs. “Alright. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Things happen fast after that. Chase follows the plan, starting a fight in the rec yard.

Nothing major. He waits until we’re in the thick of the crowd, then throws a solid punch to my ribs, not enough to break anything, but enough to make it look real.

I let myself stumble, hissing through my teeth.

Officer Rodriguez steps in, shouting. “Break it up!”

Chase backs off immediately, hands raised, playing the part of an inmate who doesn’t want trouble.

I, on the other hand, clutch my ribs, breathing heavy.

Rodriguez eyes me. “You good?”

I shake my head. “Think something’s cracked.”

He sighs, already annoyed. He can probably tell I’m up to something, but he can’t risk me being truly injured and him not doing anything. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Perfect.

He puts his arm around my shoulder and I lean heavily against him, playing my part too well as he leads me to the clinic.

Once we’re at the door and away from the other guards, I slip him a folded bill, locking my eyes onto his.

He hesitates, then nods and steps outside, locking the door behind him.

Rodriguez respects the power I have here—he’ll make sure I’m undisturbed.

Eleanor is at the counter, back turned, organizing supplies. She doesn’t hear me at first. But then her body tenses up and she slowly turns around. For a fleeting second, I catch a glimpse of terror in her eyes.

“Oh, it’s you,” she murmurs with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

She sounds… relieved . Why?

“Sounds like you were expecting someone else,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Miss me?”

She rolls her eyes. “What brings you here this time?”

“A punch to the guts.”

She chuckles, her beautiful eyes twinkling with genuine humor this time. “You sure get into fights a lot.”

I shrug, settling onto the table. “Occupational hazard.”

She rolls her eyes again and steps closer, reaching out to examine my ribs. I can feel the hesitation in her hands. Like she knows she’s stepping into dangerous territory but can’t bring herself to stop. I don’t move. Don’t speak. Just let her touch me.

I know she likes that…likes to feel in control.

Her fingers press gently against my side, searching for damage. “You’re not broken,” she mutters. “Just bruised.”

I tilt my head, smiling into her eyes. “You sound disappointed.”

She huffs. “I don’t exactly enjoy seeing my patients hurt.”

I smirk, wrapping my hand around her waist to tug her closer. “I bet you enjoy treating me, though.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes meet mine, her hands lingering on my skin. “What exactly do you want from me, Ronan?”

Her question lingers between us, her gaze shy but steady. She’s testing me again. Pushing. Seeing if I’ll…snap? It’s almost like she wants me to snap.

I slide my hand up her waist, slowly, deliberately…the fabric of her scrubs soft beneath my palm.

“What do I want?” I murmur. Her breath hitches as I lean in, just enough for her to feel my warmth, for my breath to graze her skin. “I think you already know.”

Her fingers press into my ribs, not to check for bruising this time, but to hold me there. It’s subtle, the way her hands tighten against me, but I notice.

She wants this. Even if she’s fighting it.

She tilts her chin up, just a fraction, but it’s enough. Enough for me to see the war waging in her hazel eyes. Enough for me to decide that I’m done waiting…

I move slowly, giving her time to stop me. But she doesn’t. My lips brush against hers, softly at first. Just a whisper of a kiss. Just enough to taste her. She exhales sharply, like she’s been holding her breath this whole time.

Again, she doesn’t move away. She doesn’t tell me to stop. Instead, her fingers tighten in my shirt, pulling me closer. I let her. I want her to.

She’s been testing boundaries since the moment we met…pushing, teasing, seeing how much I’ll allow. And the truth is, when it comes to her, I’ll allow a lot more than I should, more than I ever would with anyone else…

I cup her jaw, tilting her face up. Her skin is warm, her pulse racing under my fingertips. “Last chance to stop me, baby,” I murmur.

Her lips part, her breath shaky. But there’s no hesitation in her eyes anymore. “Don’t stop,” she whispers.

I don’t.

I kiss her deeply, like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life for this moment. She gasps into my mouth, her fingers curling into my shirt, holding on like she needs me to keep her grounded. I slide my hand down her back, pulling her flush against me, and fuck…she feels perfect.

Soft, warm, mine.

I let her take control at first, let her have me the way she needs to. She moves against me, lips searching, hands greedy, hungry.

But then something shifts.

Her nails dig into my chest, her tongue teasing against mine, and I lose the last shred of patience I have left.

I grip her hips and switch places with her, lifting her onto the exam table in one swift motion.

She gasps against my mouth, her thighs spreading to make room for me to stand between them.

I step in, pressing against her, swallowing the soft moan that escapes her lips. She likes this. Likes when I take charge, when I make her feel small and overwhelmed in the best fucking way. But she also likes the control—likes knowing she can push me, pull me, drive me crazy.

I let her pull my shirt, let her tug me closer, let her take what she needs from me.

Because I’ll give her anything. Everything.

Her hands slide up my arms, gripping my shoulders, nails biting into my skin. I drag my lips from her mouth, down her jaw, then lower, tasting her. She trembles beneath me.

“Ronan,” she breathes.

My name, from her lips, is the most dangerously sexy sound in the world.

I smirk against her throat, dragging my teeth along her skin. “You like this, baby?”

She doesn’t answer with words. She just moves against me, desperate and reckless, her body telling me everything I need to know.

I groan, hands gripping her hips, pressing her harder against me. “Tell me, Eleanor.”

She shudders. “Yes,” she pants. “Yes, I like it.”

Those whispered words nearly undo me.

I pull back just enough to meet her gaze. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips swollen, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. She’s never looked more beautiful. And she’s all mine.

I slide my hand under her chin, forcing her to hold my gaze. “You want more?”

Her breath catches. But then, slowly, a small, shy smile curves her lips. “Yes.”

Fuck.

I grip the edge of the table, barely hanging on to my last shred of control. The way she’s looking at me, her eyes filled with a trusting innocence. It’s dangerous.

She leans in, her lips brushing against my ear. “I want you, Ronan. Please.”

Jesus Christ.

A deep, guttural sound rumbles from my chest. She’s playing with fire. And she fucking knows it. I grab her hips, yanking her forward to the edge of the table until there’s nothing between us but heat and fabric and need. Her breath hitches.

She knows she’s in trouble now. I smirk against her jaw, my voice dark, low, and dangerous. “There’s no going back now, baby.”