Ranger (Reynolds Protective, #4)

by Rebecca Sharp

Breathe in. But the second I touched Sydney—held her—the neural highways of my mind came to a crashing halt. I understood the chemical reaction. I’d read every textbook and journal I could find on the body’s reaction to attraction in the last week and a half. A rush of dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin flooded into my system, but nowhere could I find why my brain stopped working. Breathe—

“Rewind. You’re telling me your brain stopped working as soon as you held her? How do you know?” “Because all the thoughts were gone, Gunner.”

“One minute, my thoughts are all there like a million-lane highway where I was just switching from one lane to the next. From driving to saying goodbye to Sydney to cataloging the steps to replace the broken bike chain… and then the highway was gone. And it was like I was in a field. Except I wasn’t, I was in the garage. But I felt warmth like I was in the sun. There were goose bumps on my skin like from a breeze.”

“You have a crush on Sydney Ward, and I would just like to take a moment to say to you, for the first time ever, I told you so,” he declared again with a triumphant smile. “You should ask her out.”

But there was nothing that drove me to madness more than not understanding. No matter how smart I was, I wasn’t smart enough to stop the effect Sydney Ward had on me… or to figure out if she felt the same.

Research showed messiness and clutter were common characteristics among people with higher IQs.

“I don’t understand how someone could cheat on her,” I said, hearing how my voice changed because I was suddenly angry for her.

Cheating on Sydney was the equivalent of dropping a lit match on the ground at a gas station. It was practically incomprehensible that someone could be so stupid.

The way she saw things… the way she saw me.

“Sydney? It’s Ranger.” More commotion and footsteps. “Gina, I have to—” “It’s him, isn’t it? Mr. Fineinstein—”

But when it came to Sydney Ward, there seemed to be no such phenomenon as mind over matter because the only thing that mattered was her.

Plus, I’ve read almost all of your books, so if you need a reference—” “All of them?” She squeaked. “Well, Mrs. Basil really didn’t like Gunner—” “I meant all of my books.” “Oh.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Well, I read all the ones my mom had. Twenty-one of them. The Broken series and the newer books I had to order.”

But just like the snap of the rubber band, being able to explain the physical reaction wasn’t the same as feeling it. And all I could feel was the way I desired her.

“Ranger, I’m trying to write the first kiss,” she said, her voice suddenly breathless. My body’s reactions and reality crashed together. First. Kiss. “Oh.” I reached for my throat, my own voice sounding unstable. “So, I’m sure you don’t want to help with that.” Her low laugh was husky—rueful—as she tucked a stray hair back behind her ear. My mouth opened and then shut.

CATSPENCE KISS IN THE HALLWAY SCENE?/?/?:?:?3?3?3?

Then I’d know what to do when it came time for me to kiss someone in real life. “If you want my help, Sydney, I’d like to stay.”

“I’ve been stuck at the same spot for almost a week, and I just can’t…” “Just tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.” She peered up from underneath her eyelids. Anything. I’d meant anything to help her…. Right?

This attraction was like getting drunk for the first time; I wanted to know what would happen as much as I was afraid of it.

“Did you know philematology is the science of kissing?” I blurted out. “What?” Her eyebrows lifted. “The science of kissing. The study of the muscles, mostly the orbicularis oris.” I lifted my hand, my finger poised to trace around her mouth to indicate where the muscle was, but I stopped. I shouldn’t touch her. I shouldn’t— “Show me.”

In her books, she sometimes related the heroine’s eyes to gemstones because of their color or the way they glittered. I stared hard, but there was no gemstone to match the warm brown of her eyes, nor did they glitter or glisten.

“So, you’re saying I should give my heroine an orgasm from this kiss?” “What? No—I mean—That’s not—” I flinched, caught even more off guard. “Then how would you have this first kiss go, Ranger? If not straight to orgasm?” My jaw went slack. Danger. She was too close—everything was too much… again. “I… don’t—I’m not… sure.” “Then tell me about your first kiss.” Her gaze lowered to my mouth. “Maybe that will inspire me.”

Chemistry and anatomy, fact after fact, ignited in my brain… but they didn’t stop. They caught fire and flamed until there was nothing left of them but ashes underneath the blaze of attraction.

“You’ve never kissed someone because you haven’t learned enough about it?” I felt my heartbeat all the way in my throat. “I’ve learned a lot from your books about that. I’ve read all those perfect first kisses, so I think I have a good idea of what it takes to do it correctly when the time comes.” “So, I’m the one who taught you how to kiss?” “Well, your books,” I confirmed, allowing my chin to dip before I realized it brought my mouth closer to hers.

“To angle the face,” I croaked. “So the noses don’t collide.” “Show me.” Touch her. That was really what she was asking. I swallowed hard, watching my hands frame her cheeks and tilt her head to mine.

“Informative,” she breathed out the word. “You said they were informative.” “Yes. Very.” I exhaled roughly, my mouth drifting closer to hers. “Then you know a kiss is more than technicalities. The only way to know if you got a first kiss right… is to do it.”

It wasn’t possible—physically possible—for eyes to speak, but hers did. More than speak. They screamed, “Kiss me.” “Are you testing me?” I rasped. Please say yes. “Yes.”

Had I lost my mind? Kissing Sydney had felt forbidden. Addictive. And I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything. But I couldn’t. Somehow, I had to find a way to live with not knowing everything about her because she was my temporary neighbor and nothing more.

That first kiss was one for the books. Literally.

Was there such a thing as a prodigy of pleasure? Because Ranger had the brain and he had the touch.

“Sydney.” Ranger charged into the room, and I did a double take; he had on sweatpants and a tee shirt. I’d never seen him dressed so casually before. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.” He came in front of me and took my shoulders, concern creasing his brow. “Is it… is this because of last night?” His hands dropped as though his touch made things worse.

“I’ll figure out who sent this. I promise.” He promised. Ranger promised. And how could I not believe him? How could anyone not believe Ranger Reynolds?

“We’ll figure out what’s going on and make sure you’re safe.” He sounded so sure I wished for the kind of confidence he had. “It’s going to be okay.” A tear broke free and fled down my cheek. Instantly, his hand was there, his thumb catching the warm bead and wiping it away.

“If Sydney needs to go somewhere, I will go with her.” “Baby Brains—” “My target precision and accuracy scores are just as good if not better than yours, Gunner. I’ve taken every self-defense class we’ve offered here, and I passed Hazard’s level-two combative course at Armorous Tactical last year,” Ranger insisted through locked teeth. “I’m more than capable of keeping Sydney safe if she needs to leave the apartment.”

Now, I not only had a stalker, but the man protecting me was the same gorgeous nerd I couldn’t stop thinking about. How was I supposed to ignore my crush when I was relying on him twenty-four seven?

Instead, the subtle slide of her tears reminded me that I was failing. That I didn’t know enough. Knowledge was power, but in the face of her tears, I was powerless.

I wished Sydney came with instructions. How to care for. How to comfort. Was I supposed to take her hand? Pat her shoulder? Or should I keep my distance because she was now a client? Because she was in danger? And because I’d kissed her. I’d kissed her, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The memory of her lips held me hostage. And now, I had to figure out how to do the one thing my brain was designed not to do. Forget. Forget her taste. Forget her softness. Forget the way she wanted more—wanted me. Because I had to protect her.

done—when I’d spent all night thinking… analyzing… what had happened, only one fact remained: it wasn’t that I didn’t know how to kiss her—it was that I didn’t know how not to.

“Do you think this person… wants to hurt me?” Something stretched… strained… inside my chest. An urge to… reach for her. Hold her. But that wasn’t appropriate. Not at a time like this.

“Do you think… he would actually hurt me?” I blinked twice. She had to know she was repeating her question, but why? I’d given her the best answer I had—the most current statistics based on the evidence—My thoughts stopped when a tear slid all the way down her cheek, catching on the swell of her lip. And then that hand—the one with a mind of its own—cupped her cheek and wiped the tear away with the pad of my thumb. She didn’t want statistics; she wanted safety. “I won’t let him.” It wasn’t an answer; it was a promise.

“Here,” I murmured, reaching in my pocket and handing her my handkerchief. “You carry a handkerchief?” She sniffled and dabbed her eyes. “They’re very practical and environmentally friendly,” I murmured, picking up where she’d left off drying the floor. “Tissues and paper towels make up seven point six billion pounds of waste each year, so by using a handkerchief, I can reduce my contribution by twenty-five pounds per year.”

Achilles had his heel. Samson had his hair. Superman had kryptonite. And I… I had Sydney.

death

“Next time I’m in need of history’s worst punishment, I’ll be sure to check with you.” “Oh, that wouldn’t be the worst.” “There’s something more torturous than having a spike slowly driven up your ass?” “Yes.” I looked up at her and replied before I could think. Everything with Sydney was always before I could think. “Losing you.”

“Can you stay?” Her lip quivered as she rose, tucking her arms to her. I tensed. “What?” “Can you work through the emails from here?” She rolled her lip between her teeth. “I just… don’t want to be alone.” “I…” I exhaled slowly. Facts bubbled to the tip of my tongue. She was safe here. Cameras. Alarms. And I was right next door. “Please,” she murmured. But none of that mattered against the look in her eyes. No one had needed me before. Not like this. And I… the smartest decision would be for me to leave, but for the first time, the smartest decision and the right decision weren’t the same. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Hunter?” “Did you just ask her if she wanted tacos?” “Well, I didn’t want to accept if she didn’t want—” “Never ask a woman if she wants tacos. Tacos are life.”

“Are you—” “I’m sure.”

“Tacos, Nutella brownies, and gray sweatpants.” I looked down at the gray joggers I had on. I didn’t understand how they were like the other two. “These are my favorite sweatpants. Gunner got me these for Christmas last year. Is there something wrong with them?” “No. They’re… great,” she said and stuffed the brownie in her mouth.

HES SO INNOCENT PLS LET HIM STAY THIS WAY FOREVER

When I lifted her, she snuggled into my chest with a sigh. My jaw went slack. God, she was so warm and soft. Did all women feel like this? Or was it just Sydney? They all certainly wouldn’t fit like she did in my arms.

“Ranger,” she murmured before I could release her. “Yes?” I croaked. Her eyes fluttered open to mine. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll stay on the couch if you want—” Her fingers curled into my shirt, holding on tight. “I want you to hold me,” she confessed. “I feel safe when you hold me.” My jaw went slack and my dick stirred. Hold her. I didn’t—I’d never— “Can you stay here and hold me for a little longer?”

She settled into the crook of my arm and immediately went back to sleep. Meanwhile, I stared wide-eyed at the ceiling and wondered what was happening to me. For the first time in my entire life, I had no explanation—no reasoning for what I was doing. I was acting on feeling and even though I knew it, there was not a single thing I could do to stop it.

At first, it was little things that broke through. The way he looked at me when he thought I couldn’t see. The way he blushed if we inadvertently bumped or brushed into each other. And I couldn’t forget the gray sweatpants each night. The second night he’d stayed, I’d woken a little when he went to carry me to bed, and I couldn’t help but peek at the front of his gray sweatpants. More than peek. I needed to more than peek in order to see all of him. Let’s just say that his IQ wasn’t the most massive thing about him.