Allison

Have I Told You How Much I Love Snowstorms?

Who would have thought a couple of glasses of wine would make me so brazen? When I went into Ridge’s kitchen, I was planning on stealing a kiss. I had no idea it would cause such an intense spark between us.

I’ve never felt that with any man. It was as if I had no control over my body. I was willing to do anything. I was one hundred percent at his mercy. And when he wanted me to take control, I did. That is not like me at all. I’m a follower in sex, not an initiator. I certainly don’t take the lead, but with Ridge, it was so easy and natural, and there were no inhibitions or awkward moments.

But now lying here in his arms in the dark watching the snow continue to fall outside through a giant picture window, I’m wondering if I made a mistake. Not that the sex was a mistake, God no, but the powerful emotions I’m feeling are unsettling.

I like this man a lot. What we shared wasn’t just physical. There is something else there, something electric and deep, something I want more of. How am I going to get more of him when I’m thousands of miles away in New York raising my brother and working sixty hours a week?

He stirs in his sleep and pulls me tighter against his warm, hard body. That small unconscious act makes my heart flutter, and that makes tears prick at the back of my eyes. Why is this happening here, now? Why couldn’t I have met Ridge in five years when David is off at college, and I’m free to live my life for me again?

Because that’s not how life works, Allison, and you know it. Timing has always been off for me, and in this case, it’s no different. I’ll be going home to the city Ridge despises in a few days, and he will be hard at work here keeping Ash organized and safe. That’s just how it is, but it doesn’t mean I hate it any less.

I look at the clock on his bedside table—it’s four in the morning, and I haven’t slept a wink while Ridge has been peacefully cuddled up behind me breathing soft and steady for hours. I wish he were awake. Now that the question ban was lifted, I have a million of them to ask.

First and foremost is why did his marriage end? How long was he married? What happened with the pop princess and how on earth did that whole thing get so blown out of perspective? These are all questions that will have to wait until I’m given a good opening to ask them. If I even get the chance.

“You’re wiggly,” he murmurs against my neck.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, I don’t sleep in an unfamiliar place very well. Creature of habit.”

“Mmm, me, too. I hate hotels and guest rooms. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“Well, I do need to use the restroom.”

“I’ll let you go on one condition.”

“That I promise not to wet the bed?”

He chuckles. “No, well I’d prefer if you wouldn’t wet the bed, although I’d just clean it up and put you back into it anyway. My condition is that you return.”

“As in you don’t want me to sneak out after I pee?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not going anywhere but to the bathroom and back into this bed.”

“Good, because I will just go downstairs and bring you back, but I’d like to avoid the hassle.”

Now I chuckle. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

“Most assuredly.”

I pat his arms that are wrapped around me tightly. “Okay, let me out, or you’ll be changing some sheets.”

He releases me, and I hurry into his en-suite bathroom and shut the door. The light comes on automatically and progressively so by the time I’m done peeing, the room is bright as day. I flush and turn to face the mirror startled at the sight of myself.

“Good grief,” I say to the woman with crazy bed head and dark mascara circles smudged under her eyes staring back at me. I try to comb through my hair with my fingers to no avail and quietly pull open a drawer in the vanity praying for a hairbrush but knowing the likelihood of one being there is slim.

The drawer is almost empty but for a tube of toothpaste and some floss. I close it and try another—no brush—just as I suspected. I gather up the mess and twist it into a loose knot at the base of my neck. It’s still not pretty but out of sight at least.

A knock at the door makes me jump. “Are you all right?”

I open the door. Ridge is leaning his shoulder on the edge of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m fine, other than this wad of tangles and these circles under my eyes.”

He smiles, and it’s a smile that reaches his eyes and makes my insides melt into mush. He pushes off the doorjamb and reaches out to cup my cheek. “You’re perfect, even with your tussled hair and tired eyes.”

I snort. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Come back to bed. I’ll help you get to sleep.”

“It’s almost morning. I might as well stay awake now.”

“It’s only four-thirty. You have a good four hours of sleep ahead of you. Come.”

He takes my hand and leads me back to bed. “Lay down on your stomach.”

I look at him suspiciously out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t think sex is going to make me sleepy.” He smiles again, and it warms my heart.

“I’m going to give you a massage. Lie down.”

I crawl into his big, comfortable bed and lie down and close my eyes. A moment later, I feel the mattress dip, and he is hovering over me rubbing his hands together. The smell of chamomile and lavender wafts through the air making me relax before he even touches me. But then his warm hands are on my shoulders digging into the sore muscles that hold all of my tension, and I’m moaning long and deep. “God, you have no idea how good that feels,” I murmur into the mattress.

“You’re tight. You carry all your stress here, don’t you?”

“I guess so.”

His hands travel down my back in long sweeps and back up in circular motions until I am a worthless puddle of glop in his hands. While he’s massaging me, he hums. It’s not a song or a tune but more of a monotone trance sound that knocks me out.

I open one eye and look around the unfamiliar room. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and how I got here. I open both eyes and sit up with a groan when the pain of sore muscles rolls through my body. I will not need to run today, or tomorrow for that matter. We had a full cardiac workout for hours last night. I’m probably good for the rest of the week.

Ridge isn’t in bed, and I glance at the clock, it’s ten-thirty, shit, shit, shit! I was supposed to start today’s shoot in Ash’s office at nine. The crew is probably trying to get ahold of me, and I think my phone is on Ridge’s dining room table.

I jump out of bed and regret it immediately when my muscles scream for mercy. This is my job, my career, it’s the way I feed my brother and pay our bills. I have to be responsible.

I scan the room for something to cover myself with in case Ridge isn’t alone in the house, but there’s nothing. I open the door an inch and peek through the opening. “Ridge? You here?” I call. Nothing. I open the door a little more and tiptoe across the room to the couch where the majority of my clothes should be in a pile, but they aren’t there.

Shit, where did he put my clothes? Where is he? I scan the room and still find no trace of my things. Back in his bedroom, I look for a note, still nothing. He has a land line on the table next to the bed, thank God. I sit down and pull the top sheet off his bed and wrap it around me. When I pick up the phone, I realize I don’t know who to call. I don’t have his number, and I don’t have Ash’s memorized. Mine, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll call myself. Maybe my phone is still here, and if it’s not, whoever has it might answer.

I dial, and it rings twice before someone answers. “Good morning, angel. How was your sleep?” It’s Ridge, he has my phone, and he sounds chipper as hell.

“Too long. Ridge, it’s after ten o’clock. I was supposed to start my shoot at nine! My crew is going to kill me,” I hiss.

“Calm down, it’s fine. Everything is running hours behind today because of the snow. Ash isn’t even here, he’s out helping with the animals, and I gave your crew the day off.”

“What? You gave them the whole day off? That’s going to put us behind. We have to get done and fly out tomorrow night.”

He chuckles. “Allison, have you looked outside, honey? It’s still snowing. It never stopped, and there is at least three feet of snow on the ground. You won’t be able to leave for a while. Is your brother somewhere he can stay an extra day or two?”

A day or two? Three feet of snow? What the hell? It couldn’t have snowed that much. I stand up to look out the window and wince when my muscles object.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, I just got up too fast.”

“Lay back down. I’m bringing you breakfast. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Where are my clothes? And my phone?”

“The clothes are in the laundry room, and I’m talking to you on your phone. Stella’s sending you something else to wear today, and a maid will be bringing your things from your room to mine.”

“Whoa, wait a minute.” I shake my head and hold out my hand even though he can’t see it. “I can come down for breakfast. I need to talk to my crew anyway. And you don’t have to move all my stuff. I’m okay in my room. You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, and I’m coming through the door with your breakfast now.” The call disconnects, and I hear the door to his apartment open and close. I hang up and turn around to find a drop-dead gorgeous Ridge coming toward me wearing dark jeans and a deep blue button-up shirt with cowboy boots. He’s carrying a huge tray with several covered dishes, a cup of tea, orange juice, and a rose in a vase. A rose, in the middle of a snowstorm? This man brings me a rose with my breakfast.

“You didn’t have to…”

“Hush, I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to. Now sit up in bed so you can eat.”

“Yes sir, you’re quite bossy this morning, aren’t you?”

“No, you’re just unnecessarily uncooperative. It’s breakfast, not a million dollars.”

He’s right, I guess. It is only food, but he brought it all the way up here and the rose, the rose was a lovely touch. “Thank you.” I scoot back, and he places the tray across my lap and snaps a napkin spreading it in my lap. “Are you going to feed me, too?”

“I don’t know, do you think I need to? I want to make sure you’re well nourished and hydrated after last night.”

“I am perfectly capable of feeding myself. I don’t think one night of sex will malnourish or dehydrate me.”

“No? Hmm, I’ll have to work you a little harder tonight then, won’t I?”

I look up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know about that.”

He leans down to press a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m kidding. Eat, rest, recover because later we are going to play in the snow at Cannon’s request.”

I look up from the tray of food, and my mouth hangs open. “I got the impression that taking care of kids isn’t your favorite thing to do. And I’m positive you told him he couldn’t go out until the storm stopped.”

“He caught me at a weak moment, and I don’t know if it’s ever going to stop snowing.”

“A weak moment?”

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling and stuffs his hands in his front pockets. “When I went downstairs this morning, I guess you could say I was chipper.”

“Chipper?”

“Yes. A certain someone brought me dinner last night, and then she gave me the most delicious dessert. It made me chipper.” I smile wide and remove the cover from one of the plates—French toast, the big fat kind with powdered sugar sprinkled on top. Ridge lifts another presenting me with enough fruit to feed six people and yet another with bacon and pancakes, and the last is another plate of French toast. He’s eating with me.

“You’re staying to help me eat this, right?” I ask to be sure. If not, he must think I’m a complete pig.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

I spread my arms out wide. “It’s your home, who am I to mind?”

He shrugs and sits down facing me. I watch him, and he catches me doing it several times before commenting. “What?”

“I never expected this trip to turn out like this. I’m not used to being pampered and sleeping in. I should be working,” I say drenching my toast with syrup and taking a bite. I moan when it hits my tongue. This is easily the best French toast I’ve ever tasted.

“The best things are never expected or planned. It’s a crime that no one pampers you. And don’t beat yourself up about working. You can’t very well take pictures when your subject isn’t here.”

He is right on all accounts. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Later this afternoon, he has a Skype meeting.”

“So he’s going to be busy?”

“For a while. He said he’d do the shoot after dinner if you still wanted to fit it in today.”

“How long do you think we will be snowed in?”

“Another two days at least.”

I pop a grape in my mouth and chew. “I guess we could wait until tomorrow to do the rest of the shoot if we’re going to be stuck here that long. I should call the crew, and, oh wait, you already gave them the day off.”

“Yep,” he says like it’s no big deal while he sops up some syrup with his next bite of toast.

I feel my forehead scrunch up when I raise my eyebrows. “What made you think you could just give them the day off without consulting me first?”

He raises his eyes to me surprised at my tone. “It seemed only logical. Ash isn’t available, you were sleeping, and it’s still coming down out there.”

“Yes, but they’re my people. You should have asked me first.”

“I apologize. I’m used to arranging everything that goes on in Ash’s life, and I took it upon myself to switch his schedule around. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.”

One corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk, and he stares at me for a moment. “What?”

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any sexier, but you are when you’re mad.”

I lower my eyes when I feel the heat of a blush blossom on my cheeks. “Stop.”

“I will not. You’re beautiful, Allison… staggeringly, exquisitely, knock-down, drop-dead beautiful.”

Now I’m sure I am glowing red with embarrassment. No man has ever complimented me like that, ever. I’ve had to teach myself how to accept a compliment over the years, and I’m better at it now, but that, that was more than a compliment, it was a declaration.

“You’re blushing.”

“You’re gushing over me.”

“I like you, does it surprise you?”

“After yesterday’s frigid welcome, the brush-off in the kitchen, and then the uncomfortable few games of Horse with you and Cannon, yes, it surprises me.”

He holds up his fork and points it at me. “Ah, but that was before I redeemed myself last night with dinner, drinks, and hours of passionate love making.”

“True, but most of that was my instigation, not yours.”

He balances his knife on the edge of his plate and lays his fork down looking at me seriously. “I’m glad you brought my dinner up to me last night. I’m glad you were standing so close to me in the kitchen. And I’m glad that I couldn’t resist kissing you and hauling you off to my bed. I was wrong about you. I’ll admit I had you pegged as someone different, but now I know different. Can you forgive me for being a judgmental asshole?”

“I can.”

“Thank God. Now let’s eat breakfast so I can ravish you again before we go out into the snowy tundra with a child who has endless energy.”

“Ravish me? Again?”

“You don’t want to be ravished again?”

“Oh no, I never said that. I’m just surprised.”

“Why’s that?”

“We didn’t go to sleep until after four, and that was a pretty rigorous workout for…”

“For what, someone my age? Is that what you were going to say?”

I wasn’t thinking that, but since he went there, I figure I’ll use it to my advantage.

“It is. I can’t believe it. I’m only thirty-nine, a mere eleven years older than you. I could have gone all night and all day if I didn’t have other responsibilities to take care of.” I snort out a laugh that I’ve been holding back, and then I let go and laugh hysterically.

“That’s it, no more breakfast, the ravishing starts now,” he says removing the tray from the bed and unbuttoning the first buttons of his shirt.

“But I’m still hungry,” I sputter between breaths still laughing. And I am hungry, but not for food.

“I’m going to be your breakfast now, and I can guarantee I’m better than that French toast.”

“You are?” I ask, continuing to goad him on while covering my mouth to hide a giggle.

“I am, now scoot over so I can prove my stamina.”

“Yes, sir, by all means, be my guest.” I whip off the sheet and welcome him back into bed to be ravished again and again. Have I said how much I love snowstorms?