Page 8 of Her Outlaw Prisoner (Vanishing With the Rebel #1)

Ronan

Another fake stomachache.

That’s the best I could come up with this morning.

Not exactly my proudest con, but it works. Anything to get to her.

And I needed to see her today. I couldn’t find an opening yesterday, not before her shift ended.

And if I get injured too often it’ll start to be obvious.

But today…today Anderson is on guard duty.

And he owes me. He knows he has a sweet payout coming if he can give me some uninterrupted time with the nurse.

When he finally clears me through and I step into the medical wing, it’s like the air shifts…lighter, easier. Or maybe that’s just because Eleanor is here…

My eyes find her immediately, and as always, it hits me like a fucking punch to the chest.

She’s gorgeous. But something’s off.

She’s trying to smile, going through the motions, clipboard in hand, brows furrowed in faux concentration, but there’s something in her eyes. Something tight and distant that I don’t like.

“Back again?” she says when I sit on the table, her voice too sweet to be genuine. “You know there are rumors flying around, right?”

“Like I give a damn.” I smirk. “As long as I get to see my favorite nurse, I don’t mind being the object of attention.”

That earns me a real smile, but it’s fleeting. Her eyes drop back to her clipboard.

I lean in a little. “You okay?”

She hesitates. Just for a second. Then shrugs. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Bullshit.

I know her too well now. This isn’t fatigue. There’s something else. Worry? Or maybe it’s that innate terror that clings to her like a shadow…

But I don’t push. As much as I want to know what’s eating her up inside, I know the subject of her stepbrother is a difficult one. Talking about him will only hurt her.

Still, I have my suspicions.

Especially after the message I got last night. My guy on the outside says Daryl’s been moving strangely. Showing up in places he shouldn’t. Asking questions. Watching. And I’ve got a bad fucking feeling about it.

I glance at Eleanor again. Her hands are steady, but her jaw is tight.

“Where do you live in town?” I ask, casual as I can manage.

She nods. “Eastside. Why?”

I wince. “That area’s shit.”

She lifts a brow at me, challenging. “It’s what I can afford. Rent’s cheap.”

“There’s cheap and there’s dangerous,” I reply, lowering my voice. “That neighborhood’s the kind where people disappear and no one asks questions.”

“I’m still repaying my student loans,” she says with a tired sigh. “I don’t exactly have the luxury of choices.”

Something sharp twists in my gut. I hate that for her. I hate that she’s out there alone while I’m stuck behind these walls. I hate that she’s too fucking proud to ask for help.

“How much do you owe?” I ask.

Her head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

“Your loan.”

“It’s a lot of money, Ronan,” she says with a weak chuckle.

“How much?”

“Sixty thousand.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

She blinks, stunned. “What?”

“I’ll pay it off,” I say again. “Every damn cent.”

She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “H-how? You don’t…” She trails off, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“How about you pay me back by finding a safer place to live?”

“But…how?” she asks, shaking her head slowly. “You’re in prison. How the hell do you even have money like that?”

I grin. “You don’t think I had a life before Oakdale?”

She clears her throat, a guilty blush spreading across her cheeks. “What did you do? Before…?”

“Crypto.”

She stares at me. “Cryptocurrency?”

“Yeah. Got in early, made some smart moves. Built an empire on the outside by the time I was twenty-five. Investments, trading…a few blockchain startups too.”

Eleanor just stares at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.

“That’s…impressive,” she admits.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

I lean in, voice softening. “I wasn’t always this guy, you know. I had a life. A big one. I still do, in some ways.”

She chews her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s processing everything. Thinking. But I also see the way she pulls back. The way she’s trying to build a wall.

She lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her head. “I appreciate the offer, Ronan. Really. But I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…it’s something I have to do myself. I need to be able to say I survived this part of my life on my own. Without anyone bailing me out.”

That hits me deep. I know about her deep need for control. I get it. But it still stings.

“So, no to the offer,” I say slowly. “How about I find you a new place, then? Safer neighborhood. Somewhere you don’t have to sleep with one eye open.”

She chuckles, rolling her eyes in that adorable way of hers. “You’re relentless.”

“I’m worried,” I reply with a soft sigh. “You live alone, Eleanor. And I can’t be out there to protect you.”

She looks up at me, her expression softening. “That’s not your responsibility.”

“Isn’t it?”

For a second, we just stare at each other. The tension between us pulls taut, thick with everything unsaid.

Then I lean in closer, close enough that her breath catches. “What do I have to do to get through to you, baby?”

Her lips part. “You’re already under my skin, Ronan. That’s the problem.”

I grin, slow and dangerous. “Then maybe I should stay there.”

She laughs, breathy and flustered. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

She doesn’t deny it. Just rolls her eyes again, a fond smile tugging at her lips. She steps back, giving herself space from me like distance will make this easier. It won’t.

“You ever learned any self-defense?” I ask, watching her carefully.

She frowns. “Not really. I mean, there was a workshop in college once, but I barely remember anything.”

Figures. She’s got so much fire in her, but she’s not trained to protect it.

I slide off the table and close the distance between us, slow, deliberate. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t move.

“Let me teach you.”

Her brows lift. “Now?”

“I don’t exactly have a packed schedule,” I say with a crooked grin. “We’ve got extra time today. Besides, you’re already here, and I can’t let you keep walking around unarmed in that neighborhood.”

She hesitates. “You think I’m in danger, don’t you?”

I think a lot of things. But I only nod. “I think knowing how to defend yourself can’t hurt.”

She sighs and pulls her hair up into a messy knot. “Fine. Teach me something.”

I step behind her, my chest brushing her back, and gently take her wrist in my hand. She stiffens slightly, then relaxes as I guide her arms into position.

“If someone grabs you from behind, what do you do?” I murmur, voice low against her ear.

“Um…” she starts, breathless already.

“You shift your weight, lower your center of gravity—like this.” I adjust her stance, hands lingering on her hips longer than strictly necessary. “Then you slam your elbow into their ribs. Hard.” I mimic the motion with her arm, slow and deliberate, her body pressed against mine.

She lets out a shaky laugh. “I feel like this is less about self-defense and more about getting me flustered.”

“Flustered is a side effect,” I say, letting my lips brush the curve of her neck, just once. “But the lesson’s real.”

She turns to face me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I never claimed to.”

I grab her wrist again, pulling her closer, our chests nearly touching. “If I were your attacker,” I whisper, “what would you do now?”

Her gaze flickers to my mouth. “Knee you in the balls?”

I laugh. “Tempting, but not sexy.”

“Who said self-defense was supposed to be sexy?” she challenges.

“It is. When you’re the one doing it.”

Her breath shudders out as I lean in, eyes locked on hers. My hand slides to her lower back, guiding her closer. She doesn’t resist. Her fingers curl in the front of my shirt.

“Lesson two,” I murmur, my mouth brushing hers. “Distraction.”

Then I kiss her.

It starts slow, just heat and tension, lips teasing. But it builds fast. Hungry. Needy. Like we’ve both been waiting too long, though it’s not even been forty-eight hours since we last kissed. Her hands slide up my chest, into my hair, and I groan as her body presses into mine.

I back her against the exam table, lifting her onto it without breaking the kiss. She gasps, and I take the opportunity to deepen it, tongues tangling, breath mingling. My fingers dig into her thighs, pulling her closer, until there’s nothing between us but the heavy throb of want.

She breaks away, just barely, her lips swollen and eyes glazed. “I thought this was a self-defense lesson,” she whispers breathlessly.

“It is.” I smirk, brushing a kiss against her jaw. “Lesson three—use your body as a weapon.”

She arches against me, her breath hot in my ear. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Good,” I murmur, nipping her bottom lip. “Because if anyone touches you again—anyone—I want you to remember exactly how dangerous you can be.”

I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring her. My hands explore the curve of her waist, the line of her spine, like I’m trying to memorize every inch of her.

Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why do you care so much?”

I pull back just enough to look her in the eye.

“Baby, I’d burn this place to the ground for you.”

She doesn’t respond for a while, her eyes swirling with emotions that threaten to drown me. Not like I mind. I feel like I can relate to all of them. The past few days since I met her have been a conflict of emotions for me…things I’ve never felt before, never deemed myself capable of feeling.

“Kiss me…” Eleanor says, her voice a needy whisper.

I comply immediately, pressing her against the edge of the exam table.

Her legs come around my waist, her thighs encasing me in a tight grip.

I pull her closer, losing myself in the scent of her—clean skin, fruity shampoo, something warm and womanly.

I deepen the kiss, swallowing every breathless moan, every throaty whimper.

Fuck. I’ll never get enough of her.

My hands slide under her shirt, tracing up her smooth stomach until I find the swell of her breasts, bare and warm and aching to be touched. She gasps into my mouth, her back arching, her nipples pebbling against my palms.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” I murmur, grinning like a bastard.

Her lips brush my jaw. “Didn’t think I’d need one for a shift.”

“You didn’t,” I growl, lifting her shirt and replacing my hands with my mouth. She moans as I drag my tongue over one perfect nipple, then the other, sucking just enough to hear her breath hitch.

I want her wild. I want her ruined. For me.

I yank the shirt over her head, watching her shiver under the cold air and my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, trailing kisses down her stomach. “You don’t even know.”

Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me back up. “Ronan—”

“You want this?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

She nods, breathless. “I want you.”

That’s all I need.

My hand slides down between us, and I pull her scrub pants and panties off in one motion. Her heat hits me like a punch, wet and ready and made for me.

“Goddamn,” I rasp, dragging a finger through her slick folds, watching her fall apart from just a touch. “You’re already soaked for me.”

Her head falls back with a soft whimper. “Stop teasing.”

I don’t stop. I can’t.

I circle her clit, slow at first, just to hear her beg. Her thighs tremble around me, hips grinding against my hand like she can’t stand to be denied.

When I slide one thick finger into her, her breath catches. When I add a second, her nails dig into my shoulders.

“Ronan,” she gasps. “Please.”

I silence her with my mouth, swallowing her cries as I fuck her with my fingers, curling them just right. She falls apart in my hands. Tight and hot and dripping.

I don’t give her time to recover. I undo my pants with one hand, freeing my cock and guiding it to her slick entrance. Her eyes flutter open just as I start to push in.

“You ready, baby?” I ask, every muscle in my body coiled with restraint.

“Yes please,” she breathes, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I want to feel you. Now.”

So I give it to her.

I slide in slow, groaning as her walls stretch around me, hot and tight and perfect. She gasps, her nails clawing into my back.

“Jesus, baby—fuck,” I grit out. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

She clings to me like she never wants to let go, and I start to move.

Deep, deliberate strokes that make her cry out with every thrust. The table creaks beneath us, her body rising to meet mine again and again, greedy for more.

We move like we’ve done this a thousand times.

Like we were built for it. Her moans grow louder, and I cover her mouth with mine, muffling the sound, grinding into her harder, deeper, until she’s trembling all over again.

She falls apart a second time, shattering around me with a cry I feel more than hear.

And I lose it.

I thrust into her harder, my own release barreling through me like a freight train. I bury myself to the hilt, my body shaking as I come, whispering her name over and over again like a prayer against her skin.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe.

Then I pull her close, pressing my forehead to hers. “I love you, Eleanor. I fucking love you.”