Belonging to the Bad Boy

Chapter 25

I sit at the bottom of Ranger's bed, looking at him as he sits brooding at the top of the bed. He said he wanted me here, but he hasn't spoken a word since I got in the car. For almost an hour it's been almost complete silence besides my attempts at speaking to him, and I want to support him but I'm becoming bored and impatient.

I raise to my feet, immediately gaining his attention. I grab my backpack from the floor and swing it over my shoulder as he sits up straight, watching my every move. "I'm going," I state, glancing at him before making my way to the door.

As my hand reaches for the doorknob I'm stopped, spun in an instant so my back is against the wooden door. His arms trap me in once more and I sigh, looking up at him. "Why?" He asks simply, looking down at me. I can't tell what's going through his mind, his eyes showing nothing.

"You say you need me here then refuse to talk to me. You aren't acknowledging me at all." He looks at me with furrowed eyebrows. "I don't know what you want me to do."

For a moment he studies my features, his eyes scanning every part of my face. A second later his lips are crashed onto mine, pressing me further into the door. I react instantly, moving my lips in rhythm with his, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. His arms move from the door, grabbing my hips and hoisting me up and I instantly wrap my legs around his waist, though the pressure of him holding me against the door was enough to ensure I wouldn't fall.

We stay like that for a minute, kissing passionately, letting all emotions run through us. I feel the frustration and anger built inside him subsiding as the kiss becomes gentler, more tender and slow. We pull away, remaining where we were as we both take in deep breaths. "I'm sorry," he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

"Talk to me," I ask gently, looking at his hooded eyes, only now noticing how tired he was. He gently holds me, lowering me until me feet touch the floor again. He takes my hand, leading me back to the bed. He sits and pulls me into his lap, my back resting against his chest, his chin placed on my head.

"I couldn't stand the way he spoke about it. It made me so angry," he mumbles and I feel his body tensing again. I take his hand in both of mine, rubbing circles against his knuckles, trying to reassure him, to comfort him. "No one gets to talk about you that way." The growl in his voice frightened me, but I know it wasn't aimed at me.

"What happened?" I ask, never letting go of his hand. I feel his chest rise and fall as a large sigh escapes him.

"They're angry that I spent most of training with you rather than with them. They're pissed that I would rather be with you than terrorising kids in the halls." I smile lightly, enjoying what he told me. I find peace in knowing he is changing. His anger is still on a short fuse, yes, but he doesn't enjoy terrorising everyone at school now, rather spending time with me.

I nod, shuffling closer, if possible. "And lunch?" I ask, and as I do I feel his whole demeanour change again. He stiffens and pulls his hand away, fidgeting uncomfortably. "You said you'd talk to me," I state, turning in my spot, now sat between his legs, facing him and trying to catch his eyes with mine.

"That word," he grumbles, refusing to hold my gaze. I frown, knowing he means love. I look down at my hands, wondering if this was going to change anything. "It's so strong," he continues. "It's an uncomfortable word."

I nod, not looking at him as I now feel his eyes burning holes in my being. "I get it," I mumble, not wanting to elaborate on the situation. Just moments ago we were enveloped in passion and care for one another, trusting each other enough to feel what the other was feeling. I wasn't sure if I felt that way, confused as to how I felt at all. I felt the attraction, the care for him that I thought he felt too, and I'm sure if we hadn't thought about it so much I would have said it far sooner than he was ready for. I'm sure I would have slipped, saying something like I love you and your stupidity, internally rolling my eyes at the thought of loving him and insulting him in one sentence.

"Look at me," he demands gently, his fingers taking my chin and tilting my head up. I'm sure he could see the confusion and worry in them. I'm pretty much an open book when it comes to Ranger Jones, unable to hide anything. I felt them glassing over as I held his stare, feeling a pang of pain in my chest as my mind races through the feelings inside of me. "I like you, Alessandra, I do." His words fill my, my heart swelling as I can no longer hold my tears back.

He frowns, brushing away the falling tears before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I sob gently, causing him to pull me closer, refusing to separate from me. My lips move against his and I can tell he does, I could see it in his eyes as he said it and feel it through the kiss. I allow my emotions to take over and I move to straddle him, getting as close as possible once more, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. My fingers find his hair and tangle themselves within it as his arms wrap around me, one holding my waist while the other hand held the back of my neck, pulling me close.

The kiss deepens, my desire for him growing stronger and stronger every second were together, every second were close. I hold him tightly, fearing he'll disappear if I loosen my grip even slightly. Ranger's hand, that was once resting on my waist, moving up under my sweater, his warm hand trailing along my cold skin. I shiver as his fingers trace my spine, my back arching into him, trying to get closer.

I eventually pull away, looking down at him. His lips are swollen and red, his eyes filled with adoring. I sigh contently, leaning down to peck his lips gently. He lifts me, moving me so that I'm now laid next to him in bed, my arms wrapped around his torso and my head against his chest. He leans over to turn his lamp off, not saying another word.

Minutes pass and I soon hear him snoring gently, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. I smile, tracing his chest with my finger, drawing random patters as I was not ready to sleep. I look up at his content face, wishing he could look so peaceful when awake too, not just angry, conniving or mischievous. I speak, my voice barely audible, scared to wake him from his peaceful slumber, to frighten him away. "I think I'm in love with you, Ranger Jones."