Ridge Read online

  “Jesus, you're a beautiful fucking slut, so hot and wet, you like when I leave marks all over your body?” I grunted as she smiled and tightened her hands on the rope.

  I slid one hand up her stomach, between the beautiful globes of her tits and then landed at her neck. My beautiful red love bites like a necklace, a collar, she’d have to hide tomorrow; there was no way she could cover those up with makeup, just fucking let her try.

  A string of yeses fell from her lips when I gripped at her tits as they bounced with every thrust of my body.

  I bit my teeth into my bottom lip and tightened my hand around her neck. Her eyes flashed with anger, and that beautiful smile, as if taunting me, fell across her face as I pressed.

  She continued to smile as I plunged and fisted tighter, a little tighter. Tighter more. Her face began to redden. Her eyes widened, but that high-beam smile never faltered. Until finally, I pushed my thumb against her wind pipe and nipped hard and quick on her shoulder before releasing.

  She screamed and panted and came in a torrent around my dick. My cock shot off and my orgasm fired through my body, waves of pleasure overtaking me, sagging me, making my legs jelly, my arms limp.

  I sucked in deep breaths of her scent, our sweat-slicked bodies dripping from the fucking we’d just partaken, as her thighs dropped from my sides and I slowly eased out of her.

  In a few quick flicks I'd unwrapped her wrists and she crumbled down against my body. We landed on the floor, tangled up in each other, heaving and panting, sucking in sharp breaths before finally—moments, minutes, hours later—we came back to ourselves.

  The lack of oxygen and the rush of endorphins were like a drug, as we finally came down from the high. I stood, helped her up, and her hands locked in mine as we shuffled to the bathroom and washed each other in the shower before curling up in my big bed, plastered together, entwined, just like the binds of the rope, not sure where one ended and the other began.

  A week later and Amy had called every fucking day. I got a text every morning and one every night after work. Just checking up. Miss you. Want to talk. And endless array of mindless offerings.

  Friday night and she was blowing up my phone again. Luckily, my anger had cooled. I wasn’t sure what the fuck had gotten up my ass. I was nothing less than a moody bastard, one thing I’d learned over the years.

  But now it was Friday. I’d settled a dispute with the suppliers, had secured another contract with a local fisherman, had overseen an interview at the restaurant for a sous chef, and had met with investors to discuss opening up another location in Boston. It’d been a long fucking week and I needed a release.

  I pounded on the treadmill, my eyes trained on the street as a light May rain poured down the windows. Singles, couples, and families hustled by—umbrellas open as they went on with their lives.

  My phone beeped and interrupted my Nine Inch Nails haze. I glanced down to find another text from Amy. Third time in an hour. She was upping her game. It was the weekend, she was bored, wanted to fuck.

  Suddenly, regret hit me. She was sweet. How could I have been so fucking harsh? Just because she wasn’t Mia? Mia was gone, out of my life, disappeared. Could I find her if I wanted to? Sure. But should I? Not if I wanted a chance with my brother. Not if I wanted to move forward, make some fucking attempt at a normal life.

  Maybe not with a wife, two point five kids, and a dog, but one where I could go home for the holidays and spend it with the guy who’d known me since the day I was born. Laughing at memories from our childhood, memories of my parents.

  My parents.

  I closed my eyes as a pang of mourning hit me. It happened once in a while. When things were fucked up in my life, I thought about them—wondered what they’d think of me. Thought of the disappointment I’d brought to them.

  I couldn’t think about it for long or I’d really throw myself into a dark place.

  I punched the button to slow the treadmill and walked a few minutes to cool down. I took long gulps of water before stopping the music and jumping off the machine. Towel around my neck, I debated texting Amy back. My thumb played with the reply button that lit on my phone. I stepped into the elevator, hit the button for the fourteenth floor, and then composed my reply.

  “I’m glad you texted.”

  “Mhmm.” I nodded as I spooned butter sauce onto the steaks that were sizzling on the stovetop. TJ had taught me how to make a killer steak, and it wasn’t on the grill. It was seared in the skillet and then slow cooked in butter. Most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.

  “Did you have an okay week?” She fiddled with her wine glass as she sat at the bar.

  The silence between us, an elephant in the fucking room. More like a dinosaur.

  “Mhmm,” I mumbled as I poked the spoon into the meat, testing the doneness. TJ had taught me that too. Guy was fucking brilliant. Best decision I’d ever made investing in his talent.

  “Ridge.”

  “What?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” I frowned before dishing out the steamed veggies and setting the steaks on our plates.

  “What are you thinking?” She swirled the red liquid in her glass as she watched me.

  “I hope I didn’t overcook the steaks.”

  “Really? Brick fucking wall.” She rolled her eyes as I set our plates on the bar.

  “You asked.” I shrugged as I plopped on a stool next to her.

  “I thought we should talk about last weekend,” she murmured while pushing broccoli around on her plate.

  “I’m sorry. I just get fucked up in my head sometimes. I had a moment.” I dismissed her concern and sliced off a piece of steak.

  “That’s it?” She turned to me, a skeptical look on her face.

  “That’s it. I’m a moody son of a bitch.” I shrugged and took another bite.

  “I guess so,” she muttered before digging into her dinner. “There isn't . . . anyone else?”

  My eyes darted up to hers. “No. I swear there isn't.” I rested my hand over hers across the table. I swallowed the lie that had just fallen from my lips. It was true, Mia and I were done, but why the fuck couldn’t I get her out of my head?

  We finished eating, then moved to the couch, my arm wrapped around her shoulders, and we pretended that last week had never happened. The smallest blip on the radar. I’d pushed it completely from my mind.

  Later that night, she pulled off her shirt and crawled into my lap in bed, my back against the headboard. She kissed along the line of my neck and murmured into my ear.

  “I meant it, you know.”

  “What?” I muttered and ran my hands up the sides of her ribs to palm her breasts in my hands.

  “I’m here. I’m not leaving. And we can fix . . . this,” she breathed in my earlobe as I pinched at her nipples.

  “Nothing to fix.” I wrapped a hand around her neck and brought her lips down to mine in a hard kiss. I plunged my tongue into her mouth, swirled and circled, ran along the top line of her teeth, tasting all of her. She groaned and writhed against me as I plunged my other hand down her panties and thrust my fingers between her damp lips.

  “God, I missed you,” she moaned and then pulled away, shifting down my body and pulling my boxers down with her small hands. She freed my cock and fisted at it, before licking up the length and sucking the tip between her lips.

  “Fuck,” I groaned and ran my fingers through her hair, feeling the silky strands between my fingers. My eyes closed as I tipped my head to the ceiling.

  And just like that, I’d forgotten. We were back to where we’d been. I’d successfully pushed the darkness away, and I was thankful as fuck my dumb ass hadn't ruined the second best thing that had ever happened to me.

  A month later, and I hadn’t opened myself up again to Amy. I hadn’t let the beast out. I could see it in her eyes, see her trying to push me, trying to get me to take the step, walk the line to the edge of passion and fear.

  But I held back.
I kept it under control. I’d blocked that part of me off.

  I was holding back, grinding my teeth, keeping him locked in the cage because she was right. Something needed fixing. And if letting him out to play was only going to piss me off more, make me need Mia, feel her absence so acutely it sent me head first into a funk, then he was better off locked away.

  So here I was, driving up the coast to Rock Island.

  I hadn’t been back since Lane was in the hospital. I’d left Amy in Portland for the weekend because it was my big brother’s bachelor party.

  It wasn’t big, just a few of the guys, but I was grateful to get the invite. I'd had words with my brother's best friend, Slade, and truth be told, I couldn't wait to see that big, dumb fucker too. Slade was gullible, always the one we convinced to egg the principal's house, smack the head cheerleader's ass in the hallway; he was up for anything to get a laugh. That was why I fucking loved him.

  We’d done a booze cruise during the day. Kat had finally managed to get Lane on a boat. He'd refused to go on the water for years after our dad died. We'd gone out on Slade's fishing boat, cast a few lines, drank a lot of beers, and bullshitted the day away, just a half dozen of us. After the drinking and sun, we found ourselves in Pete's Bar, Friday night. It was crowded and we were wasted and splitting our time between darts and pool.

  I took another long swig of my beer and watched Slade eyeing Dillon at the bar. We’d gone to high school with her and she was nothing special, really. Hated by all the girls because she spread her legs for everyone.

  She leaned over the bar, laughing, her cleavage on full display as she poured a shot for a guy.

  Slade's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

  “Well, what the fuck?” I grinned and slammed my beer down on the table next to Slade.

  “Hey, asshole,” he growled as he wiped beer off his forearm.

  “You’re fuckin' her?”

  “Don’t say that.” His eyes narrowed.

  “Ah, more than fucking? Interesting turn of events. Hasn’t she been with like, everybody?”

  “Don’t fuckin' say that.” Slade leaped up and threw his hand around my throat. I wasn't worried; it probably wasn’t as tight as he thought it was because I could see the alcohol swimming in his eyes, weakening his grip and clouding his faculties.

  “Lay off, man. That’s cool.”

  “Come on, pussies.” Lane strode up to us after missing his shot at the pool table. He wrapped a fist around Slade's wrist and pulled away.

  “You knew about Slade and Dillon?”

  “Sure. Who doesn’t?”

  “How long’s that been going on? I gotta say I feel a little cheated. Haven’t you all been with her? Never got my chance.” I licked my lips as my eyes zeroed in on Dillon’s round tits spilling out her top.

  “You really think you could compete with this?” Lane lifted his shirt and swirled his palm around his stomach.

  “Did you really just throw down the gauntlet?” I laughed and then steadied myself before pitching off the barstool I was teetering on.

  Lane’s eyes glistened with amusement as he watched me stumble.

  “Fuck you both. Who do you think’s gettin' between her legs every night?”

  Slade thrust his hips to mimic fucking. I laughed hard, so hard tears ran from my eyes.

  “That’s it. Abs contest. Line up, motherfuckers.” I slammed the rest of my beer. “Babe, another round!” I gestured to Dillon at the bar. Her eyes narrowed. Ah, that's why I was never with Dillon. 'Cause she wouldn't hesitate to cut a bitch, or guy, if you crossed her the wrong way.

  “Fine. Who’s judge?” Lane planted his hands on his hips and stood facing both of us.

  “Dillon.” Slade nodded as she stepped up to our small group and set the beers on the table.

  “What?” She tried to avoid our eyes as she held her tray in one hand, her other hand perched on her narrow hip.

  “Abs contest, sweetheart.” I slurred at her, swaying on my legs. Swear to fuck the earth was moving under my feet.

  “You're judging, since . . . ya know.” I threw my head to the side, insinuating that I knew that she’d fucked both of them. Her face soured as her eyes narrowed on me.

  “Fuck off.” She turned and stomped away.

  “No, really.” I lunged after her. “Best abs, the three of us.” The other guys had already gone home.

  She paused and I stepped back in the line and lifted my cotton shirt. Lane burst out in a gut laugh and Slade stood between us, his eyes locked on Dillon.

  “Come on, you drunk assholes, shirts up.” She tipped her head at the other two.

  Lane tipped his beer to his lips before setting it on the table and lifting up the plaid shirt he was wearing.

  “Slade.” She nodded, her eyes finally locking with his. I saw the emotion pass between them. That gullible fuck had it bad for this girl. I guess we all made mistakes and Dillon was his. He finally lifted his Henley and bared his abs.

  The small crowd of women that stood behind Dillon burst out in whistles. Slade’s eyes flicked to them and then locked on Dillon’s again. He rocked his hips a little, swaying back and forth on his feet.

  “You twat,” Lane and I both muttered at the same time. It's a word we'd always called each other, and it was funny to hear it coming out of both of our mouths now, all these years later.

  “Well, I guess we have a winner.” Dillon burst out in a grin and stepped up to Slade, patting him on the cut lines of his abdomen.

  “Bullshit! You're biased 'cause you’re fucking him,” I hollered as I swayed. Laughs and mumbles erupted around us.

  “You’re a prick, Ridge Wild,” Dillon spat at me. “And I’m not biased; I’m experienced. I've had a taste of the best this town has to offer, and winner takes all.”

  Ouch. Leave it to Dillon to remind me of the douchebag this town thought I was.

  She looked back at Slade and winked before pulling out a tube of fire-engine-red lipstick and bent over, her tits nearly falling out of her top as she crouched in front of Slade's hips.

  “Christ, save it for later,” Lane groaned and turned back to his beer.

  I narrowed my eyes as I watched her slim fingers trace a bright red #1 over the lines of his stomach and then she placed a kiss just above the waistband of his jeans. It was kind of fucking hot. Slade’s eyes fluttered for a minute before he dragged his thumb across her jawline and threaded his fingers in her hair, pulling her to him.

  Dillon’s eyes widened for a moment before she pulled away, grabbed her tray, and walked off to the bar.

  “Tough break.” I shrugged and pulled my new beer to my lips.

  “I won, what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Denied in public, that shit goes straight to the balls.” I laughed.

  “She didn’t.”

  “Save it. I can see it all over your face. That pinched look when she walked away. You’re playing with fire, man.” His eyes held mine for an extra instant. I shrugged and gave him a grin.

  “Fuck off.” Slade turned and swiped the darts off the table, shuffling them in his hands before stepping up to the line and throwing one.

  Poor fucker. He was wrapped right around Dillon’s finger, and there was only one way that shit was going to go. Down, down, down. And not in the dick suckin’ kind of way.

  We closed the bar down that night, after too much sun and too many beers. Slade piled into Dillon’s car, drunk and nearly falling asleep, and Kat came to collect Lane. That fucker was on alert when she showed up, swaying her little hips, planting a kiss on his drunken face. His blue eyes went all hazy as he nestled into her neck. Sweetest thing I ever saw. Completely pussy-whipped.

  And that left me, hands shoved in the pockets of my jeans, walking out of the parking lot of the bar at three in the morning. The hotel I was staying at was only a few blocks away. I could have stayed at Lane’s, Kat offered, but it didn’t feel right. We’d had a great fucking day, though. It was hard for me to
be back here, but seeing my brother made it totally fucking worth it.

  I walked across the street, the damp heat of the June night causing prickles to race across my neck. I crossed the street to the park that butted up against the harbor. Leaves swayed in the wind and rustled above my head.

  Maine just fucking smelled different. Like pine and salt. The smell of home. Portland smelled of the ocean, it was a piece of home, but it missed the strong pine scent that reminded you exactly where you were, in the Maine woods.

  I followed a trail in the park, shuffling my feet along stones until I made my way around the circle to the harbor side. Quiet waves pulsed against the boardwalk, lights lit the docks that led to the boats that were anchored there, and the lighthouse turned in the distance. I ran a hand over my face and kept walking, steering clear of the edge because I knew if I got too close, my drunken ass would fall in.

  I heard a small noise and turned to look down one of the docks that led to a pleasure boat. My head tipped to the side as I saw a figure sitting, legs dangling over the edge, shoulders hunched and quivering softly.

  Whoever was sitting out here at three in the goddamn morning wasn't in a good way. When I was sober, I would keep on walking, I wasn’t one for connecting with strangers, but when I was drunk, the bleeding heart in me rose to the surface.

  “You okay?” I murmured as I stepped up to the hunched figure.

  The small body whipped around and fiery green eyes stared up at me in shock.

  “Shit.” I ran a hand through my hair. Her eyes narrowed as she watched me, daring me to say something, anything. “Mia.” It was the only thing running through my head.

  Mia. Mia. Mia. Mia is here.

  My heart felt like it would pound straight out of my chest and run away at full speed.

  “What are you doing here?” I sat down on the boardwalk beside her.

  Mia turned away, refusing to acknowledge me. I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off her. She was stunning. She took my breath away.

  “You're so fucking beautiful it hurts.”

  Her head whipped around. Fuck—did I say that out loud? I hadn’t meant to.