I gave in.
Um, no, not like you’re thinking, but still completely possible. I let the boys come to the track to hang out with Ridge, but I came too. No way was I letting them hang out with him during the day without me. For many reasons.
Because of Austin and what he said to me yesterday. The things that still hurt. There’s a pain in me, so deep it hurts, and it’s all I feel. I am that pain, an open wound fueled by betrayal with no way to stop the bleeding, no matter how much pressure I put on the wound.
I spent some time with my mom that afternoon while the boys went with Ridge and my dad. Around four, I go looking for them knowing they needed to eat some dinner soon.
Crossing the street to the fairgrounds, I enter the track through the pit entrance. Ridge was right—he needed some help around the track—but not as much as he thinks he does.
Preparing a track for a big event like the Outlaws takes all week leading up to the event, and that’s just the racing surface. The venue itself is another story. With our dry weather, you have to water the track daily and work it just the same. Though Ridge claims he doesn’t know anything about running a track, with the help of my dad, he knows. He just doesn’t want to take any credit for it.
And whether he wants to admit it or not, Mike rubbed off on Ridge over the years. Despite being away from the track for so long, Ridge’s incredibly business savvy and meticulous about the track and its conditions.
Ridge’s near the flag stand, scraping clay off the walls. He notices me and winks. Probably because I’m wearing a dress and sandals. I don’t know why I didn’t wear jeans or something a little bit more appropriate.
Standing, he brushes red chunks from his black jeans. “Wanna get dirty?”
He looks delicious. I can say that about a man, can’t I? Look at him. Dark hair all over the place, dark eyes on mine, waiting to see what I’m going to say, anticipating it’s going to be something dirty.
My suspicion narrows. “Are you doing this for them. . . or to get in my pants?”
Ridge’s eyes jerk to mine, a beaming smile present. “Both.”
My eyes drift to the boys climbing on and off the tractor, pretending they’re driving it, my dad beside them, showing them how everything works on it. “Ridge, please don’t hurt them. They’ve been hurt enough. They don’t need another man promising them something he can’t deliver.”
Leaning into the catch fence, he hooks his hands in the links, his head dropping forward. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then he lifts his head but doesn’t look at me, his face showing signs of frustration. He squints into the sun as he asks, “Are you talking about them, or you?”
I can’t hide anything from him. Never have been able to.
In reality, I’m talking about all three of us. I look to the thick veins running along his bare forearms, remembering the way he hovered over me in the car, waiting on my response. “Them,” I lie.
Bending down, he takes a handful of the clay in his hand and makes a fist, checking the moisture content. “I don’t think that’s the truth.”
It’s not.
I take a deep breath, attempting to push the thoughts down. I don’t say anything more. At least not until we’re walking away from the track and behind the grandstand next to the concessions stands.
That’s when Ridge pulls me aside, between the two buildings and out of sight. He waits, until I look at him before saying, “You can tell yourself all you want that I don’t get to you, but you and I both know I do.”
“You do, Ridge. That’s the problem. Where’s this going?” I’m asking him the same questions I did in the car that night. “I’m a single mother with two kids who by the way, adore you. And you’re you. . . carefree. Slutty.” He frowns when I add that part, but I had to. He’s clearly had experience. Lots of it. “You’re probably just passing through town. And that’s fine too. It’s your life. But this, between us, what happens if we. . . you know. . . .” I let my voice trail off.
“We get off,” he teases, watching me with rapt attention.
Ridge twists his body toward me and guiding me back against the wall, the warmth of his breath hitting my face. “Let me ask you something, Aly.” His fingers brush under my chin. “Did Austin make you feel this way?”
He watches me carefully, looking for my truth and I know my answer, but I want him to find out for himself. So I remain quiet, waiting to see what he’s going to do next.
“Did your body crave him the way you burn for me?” He smiles, his dirty words so fucking hot I actually sigh. Don’t think he doesn’t notice either. “Did he make your heart pound and your pussy wet?”
His words, his touch, they ignite a tingle to the one place that hasn’t seen action in a while. Between my legs.
His words sound like a growl when he says, “Don’t lie, honey.”
Goddamn him! “I’m. . . I. . . I’m being serious. What does all this mean?”
“I am too,” he says firmly. I allow myself to drown in his face and those so dark eyes, even if it’s only for a second. “There’s nothing wrong with having fun.”
“I’m a twenty-six-year-old single mother with two kids. I don’t have time for fun anymore.”
He shakes his head, his lips pinching in frustration. “Maybe that’s your problem.”
“So now I have a problem? God, you sound like Austin now. Everything is my fault.”
He looks at me for a long time without saying a word, and I think he’s going to walk away. I’m being mean to him. He doesn’t back down, the words becoming his breaking point. “Come on, Aly. Christ.” He pauses, the smallest flicker of his lashes, long and dark, and blows out a breath like he’s really trying here. He moves closer and what follows is slow and whispered, as if to make the meaning last. His lips curve at the corners, but the smile isn’t one of amusement. He’s serious. “I’m not Austin.”
I swallow down tears I won’t let run. Look at him. Take notice in the way his eyebrows gather together with a pained expression, the way his voice loses power at the end of his statement and the way he raises his arms and lets them fall to his sides.
He’s not Austin. He never could be.
With a knotted belly of uncertainty, or insanity—I haven’t quite decided—I ask, “So. . . what is it you want from me?”
There’s a gleam in his eyes. Do you see it? No, shit, wait. Maybe that’s the sun hitting his face. “I think I’ve made that pretty clear.”
Right. Sex.
My face scrunches, my head shakes. I start to walk away, but he doesn’t let me. Not this time. He pulls me back to his chest and then spins me around to face him. “You were mine before you were his,” he reminds me. He swallows heavily, his face hardening. “You know I’m right.”
At three, at ten, at fifteen, I was always his.
There’s certainly truth to it. I struggle to breathe. I’m scared and well, turned the fuck on. So turned on I blow out a breath and it resembles a cat in heat.
You’re spending too much time around those cats, Aly. You’re starting to sound like them.
Ridge growls into my skin, grips my wrists and presses his body firmly into mine. “If you’d have given in to me. . . I would have never treated you that way.”
Suddenly, I’m trapped by him. I glance around. We’re in the tunnel where the ticket booth is. On the left, the track where the boys are with my dad. On the right, the town.
He’s up to something, and I think I know what it is. Seduction.
“What are you doing?”
Keeping that smirk at bay, Ridge watches me. His darkness nips at the sensitive flesh of my neck. He does things to me. Naughty things. “I think you know,” he says slowly, his soft lips parting over the words beautifully. Fuck, he’s pretty.
His gaze returns, but there are no words. Instead, my face is suddenly between his palms.
Oh shit. Panic sets in. No, actually it takes over like adrenaline, and I start shaking. His gaze—oh, those devastatingly beautiful dark eyes—control me.
With unnerving confidence, he towers over me, and I wonder if Tori’s description of his actual size is accurate. Can I handle eight inches? Will my pussy explode?
Oh, honey, that’s laughable. You gave birth to twins.
I pinch my lips together to make sure a moan doesn’t leak from them. Eh, gross. I can’t believe I thought leak.
He takes a step forward, trapping me against the warm wood of the building. Every part of my body begs for his touch, for him to consume me in ways no man ever has, or could.
He wants me, so what? I want him. It’s not like I’m fifteen anymore and protecting my virtue.
But. . . it might end in tears and heartache. Can I handle that again?
Maybe? He’s the first person who’s made me feel alive in a while.
“Ridge,” I whisper, swallowing heavily over the lump of uncertainty in my throat. “Is this a good idea?”
His lips brush mine as he leans down, but he doesn’t kiss me yet. “It’s a really good idea.”
“I mean. . . with the boys and you being their teacher, and my divorce not being final. It’s a small town. I just. . . it seems messy. Really messy.”
He draws me into him, and my body curves to his, warm and safe. “I won’t tell,” he whispers into my neck. Fuck, he smells so goddamn good. “If that’s what you’re worried about. No one has to know.”
No, he definitely won’t tell. He’s too secretive for that.
It’s been years since I kissed Ridge, and I want to again so badly. I want to remember the taste of his lips on mine, remember the feeling that consumed me every time he touched me or looked my way.
I want to remember how it felt to have someone want me that way, and not for any other reason than they couldn’t control themselves. At some point when you’re in a relationship, that disappears, and some never find it again. Austin and I certainly hadn’t.
And Ridge and I. . . we couldn’t forget it.
His mouth inches closer to mine, and then he kisses me. Gentle at first. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, so eager for more. When my breath blows out, his catches.
When I open my slightly parted lips, Ridge groans into my mouth, jerking me against his chest, his lips hungry and searching for more. It’s the hottest fucking kiss I’ve had in years, maybe even ten. What’s hotter? The release of his soft groan sends another shiver through me. With every move he makes with his hands, his muscles flex and fight for control.
This isn’t like any kiss I’ve had before. It’s the most intoxicating kiss I’ve ever had. The very second his mouth covers mine, I know he’s not only kissing me. He’s erasing every other kiss I’ve ever had. Even the ones by him. They don’t matter anymore. This kiss, it’s from a man. One who holds an extraordinary amount of power over me.
I’ll tell you something about Ridge’s kiss though. It’s not the urgency of his hot mouth or the sweet taste of him.
It’s not the way he’s kissing me like he’s trying to prove a point.
It’s not the way his tongue assaults my mouth, or the way he practically owns my body with the way his lips curve to mine.
Nope. It’s none of that.
Can you guess what it is? Okay, Jesus, calm yourself. I’ll tell you.
It’s the way grabs one of my hands and places it on his cock. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
That’s the part the sends my heart thumping wildly with fear. What the fuck and I doing? I’m a mother. I can’t be doing this out in the open with my kids near.
“I. . . uh. . . Ridge,” I mumble against his lips. “The boys. . . .”
“They’re busy and so am I. Stop talking,” he murmurs into my neck, biting my skin with his teeth. He drops his head lower and I yank it back up because I know once he puts his mouth on or near my nipples, it’s over.
Over.
We’ll be fucking against this wall, and that’s not going to happen.
He stares at me, confused that I pushed him back, but breathing heavily. “Why are you stopping me?”
I skim my hands over his chest, fisting cotton. “We can’t do this here.” My voice is meek. With every second his lips are away, I can finally think for myself. Hello, logic. Where were you earlier?
Resting his forehead against mine, his dark eyes don’t let up with intensity. “Why can’t we? I know you want it. . . .” And before I can object, his hand is under my dress and up between my legs, and his fingers prodding at my clit through my panties. Yep. They’re so wet and he knows it’s all for him. Now I know why I chose a dress today. Slut! “You’re imagining all the things I can do to you.”
Goddamn it. He really knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?
Just as I’m about to agree to letting him do whatever the fuck he wants, his fingers disappear.
No. . . come back!
“But if you don’t want it. . . .” He shrugs, turns around and leaves me standing there.
I’m screwed.