Ridge Page 11

  I had no idea how long it was before a gentle arm came around my shoulders. I looked up and was met with emotion-filled green eyes.

  “Jesus Christ. You look like shit,” she said softly and ran a hand through my hair. My eyes fluttered closed again and I leaned into her.

  “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.” I stood, stumbled, and then she looped her arm into mine and led me to her car.

  I laid back, reclined in the seat, my head turned toward her, my eyes glued to her profile. Her hair falling soft around her shoulders. Her face clean of makeup. I vaguely registered that she wasn’t in work clothes and wondered what time it was.

  My eyes drifted to the clock on the dash and I noted it was after ten at night. Fuck, I’d been gone all day. Amy was going to be pissed.

  Amy. Wait. Fuck.

  Amy was in Boston with her sister for the weekend. She'd tried to call while I was at the bar and I'd let it go to voicemail. I couldn't stomach her voice in my ear tonight.

  The car came to a stop and I stumbled out into the warm night. Mia helped me up the steps and into her place.

  “Water.” Her elegant arm extended, warm green eyes swirling back at me as I sat on the couch.

  I nodded and took it from her, downing it in one go.

  “I almost scored tonight, My.”

  “I know. But you didn’t, right?”

  I shook my head, feeling impossibly small, hopeless, worthless.

  “That’s what matters, that you didn't . . . Wanna talk about it?”

  I shook my head and stood, striding to the kitchen counter, leaning my forearms over it, resting my head on the cool granite.

  “I’ll listen.” She ran a hand up my back. Why was she so fucking good to me? Why were women always so fucking good to me?

  “There’s so much you don’t know.”

  “Try me.”

  “You don’t want to hear it.”

  “I do. You can tell me anything.”

  “Can I? Really, Mia?”

  “Of course.” I saw her eyes flicker with anger. Where Amy’s would have flickered with fear, maybe pain, Mia’s eyes burned back at me, challenged me.

  “It's you. You’re all fucking wrong. We’re wrong, and then we weren’t wrong, and everything's all fucked up, and I can’t get you out of my head.” I hollered the last sentence as I banged my hands on the counter. Pain shot up my arm.

  “That’s bullshit. You ended us,” she growled right back at me.

  I was so used to Amy’s pliant attitude, her willingness to give in to whatever I wanted. I turned on Mia. My chest heaved with anger. My eyes darted around her dark features. She’d taken a shower already, her hair wavy from air-drying, dark green eyes flashing with anger, long eyelashes rimming them and accentuating their exoticness.

  “What was I supposed to do?” I hollered and grit my teeth as I watched her.

  “Work it out. With me,” she said, her voice even and clear. So strong. My girl was always so strong.

  “There was no working it out, Mia. I was in love with my brother’s fiancée. You don’t work that out.” I clenched my fists at my sides. Her eyes flicked up and down my body, reading me. Like she always did.

  “You could have fucking told me,” she screeched and then pushed against my chest with her hands. My nostrils flared with anger . . . and something else. Lust. I wanted her so fucking bad.

  “I wish I could have.” My jaw clenched and I lunged at her, wrapping my fist in her hair and pulling her to me in an angry kiss.

  I pressed my lips to hers so tightly it fucking hurt. But it was so fucking good to feel.

  I bit at her lower lip and pulled the strap of her tank top down her shoulder. I broke our lips and trailed the other strap down and then pulled, ripping the thin fabric from her body.

  Her arms shot around her torso and she unsnapped her bra just like that, letting it fall to the floor, and she stood before me, her full breasts on display, nipples a dark rosy shade and standing at attention.

  I narrowed my eyes and as I took her in. My dick pounded in my pants as I grasped at her tits, and ducked my head to slip one nipple in my mouth. I flicked my tongue against the hard peak and then clamped on tight, sucking and pulling on the sweet flesh. She moaned and sifted her hands in my hair, pulling as hard as she could.

  “Fuck,” I roared before she ripped at the buttons on my shirt. I threw it off my shoulders as she fumbled with the zip on my jeans. Every fucking heartbeat, my dick throbbed. Every breath, throbbing painful need between my legs.

  I shoved her shorts down her legs and fisted a hand in the fabric of her panties. I pulled and the lace tore easily, the satisfying noise a reminder of where I wanted to be.

  “I can’t stand not having you every night,” I growled, my eyes feral with anger and lust. I pushed her back against the wall separating the kitchen and the dining room, pinned her with my hand at her throat.

  “Do you miss us?” I ran my thumb along the line of her windpipe, ducked my head into her scented skin, and ran my nose up the line of her neck as I whispered in her ear. “Tell me.”

  “No,” she said loud and clear. I froze, my hand tightening at her neck as I thrust my other hand between her legs, playing with the wet flesh, running my fingers up her length.

  “This,” I pulled my digits up and thrust them in my mouth, sucking the sweet juices off my fingers, “says otherwise.”

  Her eyes held mine, defiance and anger, challenge and need burning in them.

  She knew I fucking loved it. That was why we’d been so good. That was why she could get me off like no one else. Because she fought me. She knew I loved the fight.

  “Suck my dick,” I growled.

  “No.” She tightened her hands at my biceps and squeezed, and then pulled, drawing trails of blood. Arousal poured through me.

  “Fuck, My . . .” I leaned in, scenting her neck.

  “Don’t call me that,” she grit through her teeth.

  “That’s it, baby.” I ran one finger up and down her length before pushing it into her hot pussy. “Make it good for me.” I leaned back just before she pulled one hand away and smacked me across the face.

  My eyes burned, flickered, and focused on the hand at her neck. I lifted and brought it to my face. She took the opportunity to dart around me. I growled and lunged, landing against the couch, softening her landing under my body with my arms.

  “No escaping, baby. I’m getting inside you tonight,” I whispered in her ear before I pulled my pants down my ass and freed my dick. I pinned her arms on either side of the couch cushion, my knees on the floor between hers. I pulled her wrists up above her head, ducked my head to bite at her nipples and felt her quiver as a low moan escaped her throat.

  “That’s my girl. So fucking turned on.” I locked her wrists in one of my large hands and fisted my dick with the other, teasing between her wet lips.

  “I hate you,” she murmured, her eyes boring into mine before flicking down to my dick teasing her cunt.

  “Mmm.” I licked my lips, refusing to look at her, enamored by her arousal coating my cock. “You don’t want me in here? Riding you? Bringing you to the brink?” I tightened the hand holding her wrists and then leaned over her, placing one hand around her small waist and digging in as I dove deep inside her. Her body arched and she groaned as her eyes closed.

  I didn’t give her the chance to get used to me, didn’t have it in me to be patient. This was my home. The place I belonged and I needed it, needed her so fucking much it hurt when I wasn’t with her.

  I powered into her, one hand holding her stretched out in front of me, her tits swaying with every thrust. I leaned over and sucked on her nipples as I railed into her, chasing my release.

  “Fuck, you missed this didn't you, you sweet, selfish girl?”

  “I hate you,” she breathed. She arched and clenched her inner walls to fist around me.

  “I want it all,” I murmured as I leaned over her, hair falling in my fa
ce, nails biting into the skin at her hip. My fingers were white with the pressure I was applying as I rocked and pulled and thrust, nailing her into the couch without a second thought.

  “Jesus, My.” I steadied my rhythm, hitting shallow, teasing at her entrance, rocking and curling my hips to hit different nerves. Finally, she came undone, moaning and shuddering and biting her lip as she came apart. Her head thrown back as a primal moan released from her throat.

  “That’s my girl.” My eyes were frozen on her face, watching her orgasm pulse through her. I was riveted. That was the face in my dreams. The face I lived for. The face I took breaths for, the only one that made my miserable existence worth living.

  I clamped my jaw and then pushed into her body twice more before my orgasm ripped through me, firing off every nerve I had, and pulsing straight out of my dick. I groaned and slowed my rocking as I leaned over her. She was still trembling from her orgasm. I ran my palm up her torso, over her ribs, to land at her neck. I wrapped my hand around her pulse point and took her lips with my own.

  I cherished the feel of her, the taste of her. Massaging my tongue against hers as the last spurts of my orgasm rang through me. Finally, I pulled away and dropped my head against her neck. Sucking in deep breaths, recovering from fucking her with everything I had. Recovering from the strongest orgasm of my life.

  She was frozen beneath me. Unmoving. Finally, I looked up, and her eyes were misty with pain. She never showed me her pain. Maybe it made me shallow not to have seen it before. Maybe it made our relationship shallow. I didn’t know, but it tore a hole through me.

  The caveman in me wanted to lock her in the house and protect her from all the pain in the world.

  Except I was an asshole, because I was the cause of it.

  And that cracked my chest open further. I sucked in a sharp breath and pulled out of her slowly. Relishing the last few moments when I was buried deep inside her, just her and me, the rest of the world locked out.

  “I . . . I didn’t use a condom,” I muttered and pulled at my hair. What a fuck up. What a royal fuck up.

  “I still have my IUD . . .” I watched her swallow the lump in her throat and avert her eyes.

  “Please don’t do that. Give me your eyes.” I turned and gripped her chin, forcing her to see me.

  She only stared back. This was what she'd done the few times we'd been together since we'd broken up. She turned off. And it fucking hurt.

  “You want a shower?”

  My lips lifted in a smile because she knew me. Mia knew I showered right after sex. It was my thing.

  “Join me?” I leaned in for another kiss.

  “Ridge—”

  “Please. Just tonight. I just need tonight.”

  “Thanks for picking up the phone,” I murmured as I lay propped over her body. We were clean and fresh from the shower, her hair damp on the pillow.

  “I would. Anytime.”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course.” She turned and caught my eyes. My fingertips, which had been trailing figure eights along her hip, froze as her greens locked with mine.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

  “I couldn’t just write you off. I . . . loved you.”

  “Past tense.” A frown turned down my lips.

  “Of course.”

  I nodded as I thought of the love I'd so easily tossed away.

  “Is it past tense for you?” She breathed.

  “I . . . can’t really answer that.”

  “I know.” She nodded and turned away.

  “You don’t, not really.”

  “Well, then, try me, Ridge. This is us. We don't hide anything.” She dusted her thumb along my stubbled jawline.

  “Things have been fucked lately. And when Amy told me about the baby, I wanted to get high more than anything else.” I sighed and then felt her stiffen in my arms.

  “The baby?”

  My eyes flickered open and I caught hatred burning there. Where lust had been just minutes before, now pure hatred radiated from her eyes.

  “Jesus, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Didn’t mean to what, Ridge? Please tell me. Didn’t mean to fuck your ex while your girlfriend is at home, pregnant?”

  “I . . . I—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. You know, I didn’t think we had a chance, not even after tonight, after everything. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that. But that’s a whole new low, Ridge. I’m the fucking other woman now. I won’t be the other woman, not ever.” Her words burned in the air between us.

  “I never wanted you to be,” I murmured so softly, and gripped at her hip before she tried to pull away.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare fucking do that. You can't pull me back in with your broken Ridge act. Get the fuck out.”

  “My.”

  “Don’t call me that either. Don’t pretend that what we had was anything other than a quick fuck. I fooled myself months ago when I thought it was more, when I cheated on my fiancé because what I thought we had meant something, but you fucking stepped all over it. And tonight just reaffirmed that.” She stood and pulled a shirt over her shoulders.

  “Mia.”

  “Get out.”

  “Mia, I can’t. You don’t know—”

  “I don’t know, Ridge? I don’t fucking know? You think you’re the only one going through shit right now?”

  “Mia, I know I was a complete asshole. I know I deserve every second of this.” I stood and stepped toward her, grasping her wrists in my hands and bringing them to my lips to place a delicate kiss on each. “What the fuck, My?”

  “Stop.” Fear leapt into her throat as she pulled her arms away.

  “What the fuck, please don’t tell me you’re—”

  “Get out,” she screamed as tears flooded her eyes.

  “I’m not leaving until you show me your arms.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms and held on tightly. Like she was hanging by a thread. Fuck, she probably was, just like I’d been, but I’d been too fucking selfish to see it.

  “Come on.” I yanked on her arm and hauled her into the bathroom. I flicked on the light and gripped one wrist in my hand, inspecting the fresh scabs where she’d brought a blade to her skin. On purpose.

  Pain tore through my belly. It felt like my heart was going to crack open and shatter into a thousand pieces at my feet.

  “How long, My?” I stroked my thumbs along the long scratches that started at her wrist and trailed nearly to her inner elbow.

  “Not your business. It stopped being your business when you kicked me out of your life.” She yanked her arm away and folded it against her chest.

  “Don’t spew that bullshit at me.” I yanked on her other arm and found matching gouges in her creamy, olive skin. “Fucking hell.” Tears sprang to my eyes as I yanked up her shirt. I knew her, knew what she’d told me when she used to cut when she was a teenager. After her brother died and her parents checked out on her.

  She said she’d cut anywhere, her thighs, her hips, her stomach, anywhere there was fresh skin.

  “Ridge,” she shrieked, but was a fraction too late before I spotted deep cuts on her hipbone. Jagged lines, scars that had healed over, not as new as the ones on her arms, but so deep, it looked like they might be permanent.

  And next to that was a dark navy tattoo, bigger than a softball with deep green vines that curled around her hip. It was beautiful. And fresh. Mia’s skin had been clean of any ink when we were together.

  I dropped to my knees, holding her shirt above her hips, my eyes trained on the ink.

  “When?” I traced the path of one thumb along the outline.

  “Right after . . .”

  Right after I kicked her out. She’d inked this on her body after I’d left her.

  “It matches mine.” I licked my lips and looked down to the blue and black azalea inked on my chest, to the one decorating her hip. They were a perfect match, but the color
s were inverted. The vines were green, but where the petals on mine were shaded in black, hers were blues and navy; where mine were navy, hers were black. They were matching opposites. Yin and yang.

  “Why?”

  “I needed the reminder.”

  I only nodded, my eyes riveted. “Are there anymore?” My eyes flicked across the rest of her skin. She shook her head no.

  “The reminder of what?”

  “That we were real.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat because I knew the feeling. For so many of the last months, we felt so unreal. Like we’d walked in a dream for a very brief time. A time when I had her. And a time when I was happy.

  “When did you start this again?” I trailed fingertips along the scars where she’d mutilated her own flesh. I pressed a kiss to her hip, wishing I could take away the scars on her body and in her heart.

  “After Rock Island, the last time. Lane’s wedding.”

  “God, Mia.” I stood and turned away from her, shoved my hands through my hair. “We’re so fucked up apart.”

  “We’re fucked up together,” she huffed and turned, walking out of the bathroom. I stood still for a few minutes, pacing the small space, trying to calm myself. I needed to get her help.

  I’d thrown her head first off the deep end. I wasn’t alone in the darkness; Mia had followed me in. What the fuck had I done?

  “You need help, Mia.” I walked out of the bathroom and found her pacing the bedroom.

  “You should go.” She tossed my jeans and shirt to me.

  “Mia.”

  “Go home to your family, Ridge. They need you more than I do.”

  Her words were a knife in my heart. Because that was the bottom line—it'd always been the long and short of it. We were so fucking wrong for each other, but we weren’t good for anyone else.

  “Ridge?” her voice called just as I was about to slip out her front door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Lose my number.”

  A week went by since I’d seen Mia.

  Amy was nine weeks along, happier than ever, and I was suffocating. She came over every night after work, slept more nights than not at my place.

  She'd never found out about the night I spent with Mia. I should tell her. I walked around with the confession burning in my throat, but it would destroy her. She was so fucking happy.