Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
DARCY
I f you’d like to experience full out-of-body mortification, just drop your sex toy, watch it roll across the floor, observe in slow motion as the father of the kid you nanny for picks it up and casually hands it back to you. That, my friends, is real terror. Sure, I didn’t die but I definitely fucking wanted to.
It’s a good thing he believed it was actually for skincare. I guess it helps that it’s not your typical sex toy shape. In many ways, Sir Clit Suckerton is the perfect camouflage. He flies undetected, under the radar, pleasing clits along the way.
I’ve been awake for a full ten minutes at least, but I haven’t opened my eyes or given the indication that I am. Hence, my sleepy and strange thoughts. Ridge shifts next to me and my pulse quickens. It does that pretty much every time he moves. I’ll never tell him, but I woke up for a moment in the middle of the night to find his arm wrapped around my middle, pulling me toward him. We were practically close enough to kiss. I didn’t move, though. Eventually, he rolled back to his side, which is when I was able to fall back asleep.
Our midnight cuddle will be a secret I share only with his unconscious body. There’s no need to tell him, and it could just embarrass him or make him feel bad. It’s not a big deal. In fact, I kind of liked it. Well, I really liked it. I felt… safe.
“Good morning!” Lou rounds the corner and yells out her greeting. It startles both me and Ridge, jolting us upward.
“Morning, pumpkin,” Ridge says. “Looks like you beat my alarm.” He clicks around on the screen of his phone, presumably turning the unused alarm off.
“Did you sleep okay in the chairs, Lou?” I ask, despite her cheeriness. I just want to make sure it was comfortable for her.
“I did,” she says. “But now I’m starving.”
Ridge runs his hands over his face and wipes the sleep from his eyes. He looks over at me and smiles.
“Good morning,” he says. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Really good, actually.”
I feel a little heat in my cheeks, remembering how he held me and—for a moment—wonder if that’s why he slept “really good.”
“How about you order some room service while I get ready for the convention?” he asks.
I nod, pushing the blanket from me and stretching. I could definitely go for a coffee, and I know he’s going to have a long day, so he’s probably thinking the same.
“What do you want?” I ask, walking toward the phone on the little desk.
“You know what I like. Surprise me.” He grabs clothes and heads into the bathroom.
There’s a little tingle in my belly, a nervous flutter as the idea that yes, I do know what he likes. We’ve had breakfast together enough times for me to know. And I find that sort of… intimate.
I look at Lou. “Pancakes?”
She nods vigorously, bouncing on her heels.
I send her to find an outfit she likes for today and tell her to get ready for some walking, because we’re going to go exploring after her dad leaves for the convention. The hotel we’re staying in is located in a busy area of downtown, so I’m sure there will be lots of places within walking distance.
I place an order of pancakes and chocolate milk for Lou; eggs, bacon, and biscuits for Ridge; a cheese omelet and fruit for myself; plus two coffees and water for all of us. Right after I hang up, Ridge emerges from the bathroom wearing torn black jeans, his signature classic black T-shirt, and black boots. Normally, I’m not an all-black-ensemble girlie, but he makes it look so damn good.
Lou claims the bathroom second, taking her chosen outfit in with her so she can change. I have no idea what she picked, and she has a tendency to get very creative, so I brace myself for what it could be.
“So, what are you guys going to do today?” Ridge asks, grabbing his watch from the table.
“I figured we’d go exploring on foot, then have some lunch. After that, I was going to see if she wanted to swim in the hotel pool. And Lord willing, she’ll be tired enough to come back here and watch a little TV with me. Possibly nap.”
“If she swims, she will definitely fall asleep after. She can’t help it. It wears her completely out.”
“Good to know.” I smile at him and he smiles back.
“And I probably won’t be done until seven, so you guys should eat dinner without me,” he says. “I’ll just get something after.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he says, waving his hand in the air.
There’s a knock on the door, so he turns to answer it. He returns a moment later with our room service, and Lou comes out just as he’s setting it down. Much like when we’re at his house, we all have breakfast together, talking between bites about what the convention will be like and what we might find on our walk today.
After we eat, we say our goodbyes to Ridge as he heads out for what ultimately sounds like a busy day. I’m sure he’s going to be very tired later, which is why I’ve convinced Lou we need to find him a special present.
She volunteers to clean up our breakfast trash while I get dressed, which is so sweet of her. She’s a very responsible child.
I put on black leggings, a pink crop top, my pink sneakers, and sunglasses. I throw my hair into a messy bun and apply some moisturizer with SPF. After adding some mascara, I’m satisfied with myself and emerge from the bathroom.
“You look so cute, Darcy,” Lou says, giving me a huge smile.
“Thank you, Lou,” I say. “So do you.”
And then we set off. I tuck a key card into my purse, sling it over my shoulder, and we’re out the door. The first stop we make is a cute coffee shop next door, where I treat myself to an iced espresso, despite having just had coffee. Lou opts for an iced hot chocolate with foam, and we snap a selfie with our drinks and send it to Ridge.
I know he likes it when I send him updates of our adventures throughout the day. This weekend should be no different. Granted, I don’t know if he’ll see them since he will be much busier, but they’ll be there for him whenever.
We spend the next couple of hours visiting several different boutique shops, a pet store, and an art museum. Then we take a break for lunch. We sit outside, snap more selfies for Ridge, and we’re off again.
True to Ridge’s word, after more than an hour of swimming, Lou falls asleep at the end of the bed after I brush her wet hair and put it into braids. And honestly, I scrolled through my phone for maybe ten minutes after she knocked out and then fell asleep myself. We took a glorious two-hour-long snooze, and I awoke so refreshed. Swimming really takes it out of you.
I ordered us room service for dinner, and we both agreed that we were too tuckered out for more adventures. And now, here we are watching TV when Ridge finally walks in a few minutes after seven.
His eyes give away just how tired he is. Despite that, he perks up when he sees us, mustering enough energy to embrace Lou and swing her around much like he does any other day.
We tell him—well, Lou mostly tells him—all about our day and where we went. Then he tells us all about his day, how many people he talked to, and the tattoo he did. It sounds like he interacted with a lot of freaking people who stopped by. His voice is even a little raspy.
There’s a knock on our door, and Ridge and I exchange glances, confused about who it could be. He goes to answer it, and no sooner than the door opens, I hear the familiar voice of Waylon.
“There’s a double feature at the movie theater down the street. They’re playing both Beetlejuice movies, and the girl Banks met really wants to go. So we’re making it a group thing. Interested?” he asks, looking at each of us.
“Yeah!” Lou shouts. “I can come too, right?”
“Of course,” Waylon says.
Ridge looks at me, a plea in his eyes that tells me going out for four hours of movie does not sound good to him. Honestly, it doesn’t sound good to me either.
“I don’t think so, man,” Ridge says. “Not this time. I’m cashed.”
“What about you?” Waylon looks at me expectantly.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Lou and I had a big day, too.”
“Aw man,” Lou says. “Does that mean I can’t go?”
Ridge exhales, clearly conflicted about the whole thing, but Waylon pats him on the shoulder reassuringly.
“Of course you can still go,” Waylon says. “Uncle Waylon would be happy to take you, if it’s okay with your dad?”
Ridge looks from Waylon to Lou to me and back to Lou. “I suppose it’s okay.”
“Great! Grab your jacket, Lou,” Waylon says. “It’s party time.”
When she runs to get her jacket, there’s an awkward silence. Waylon is looking between me and Ridge with a strange grin on his face.
“So what are you guys going to do while we’re gone?” he asks.
“I’m going to try not to fall asleep standing up in the shower,” Ridge says, rotating his arms. “And try to work out this kink between my shoulder blades.”
Waylon looks at me.
“Oh, um, I don’t know. Maybe read?” I can’t think of anything else I’m in the mood to do, and I want to keep it chill for Ridge. It feels like he needs that right now.
Waylon claps his hands and rubs them together, looking between us. Man, he’s weird. Lou shouts that she’s ready, drawing Waylon’s attention away. The door clicks behind them, and all the noise is gone from the room.
In the silence, I look over at Ridge, who’s already looking at me. He runs the pad of his thumb over the corner of his mouth, a gesture I’ve seen him do many times.
“I’m going to hop in the shower,” he says. “See if I can ease this pain in my back from hunching over.”
“Okay,” I say, turning toward the bed. “I showered after we got back from the pool, so I don’t need in there for anything. Take your time.”
And he does. The water runs in there for more than thirty minutes, and I hope it helped ease the knots. I almost offered to rub it for him when he mentioned it, but I wasn’t sure how appropriate that would be.
I change into my big nightshirt while he’s still in the bathroom, then cover my legs with the blanket and flip through the TV channels for something to hold at least a little of my attention.
Ridge comes out of the bathroom, steam pouring out behind him. I keep my attention on his still damp hair to restrain myself from staring at the very obvious dick print in his gray basketball shorts. I noticed it in about two-point-four seconds. Guys have to know when they’re displaying one, right? Can’t they feel it? Surely they can see it in the mirror?
“Did the hot water help your back?” I ask before swallowing thickly.
“Not as much as I’d hoped,” he says, arching his shoulders back.
“I can rub it if you want.” I gulp. I don’t know what possessed me to say it. Clearly, after seeing the dick print, I have less self-control than I did earlier. I guess I’m fickle like that.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he says, sitting down on his side of the bed.
“You didn’t,” I say. “I offered.”
Ridge looks at me for a whole ten seconds without saying anything. Which doesn’t seem like a long time, but trust me—try it. It’s a long-ass time when it’s silent.
“In that case,” Ridge says, twisting to give his back to me. “I gladly accept.”
I turn toward him and lift myself onto my knees to gain better leverage. “So you said between your shoulder blades, right?” I press lightly at the narrowest part between them, rubbing in a circular motion.
Ridge hisses. “Yeah, right there.”
I press harder and he groans. Jesus, I did not think this through. He moans again when I press my thumbs on either side of his spine, applying a generous amount of pressure as I run up toward his neck. He makes another delicious noise, and it makes me wonder if he’s this verbally reassuring during sex.
My hands travel over his shoulders, digging into his flesh. I rub circles over the tension there, causing his head to roll forward as he groans again. And that last one does me in. I feel wetness between my legs. Suddenly, all I want to do is take care of him in every way.
“Darcy,” he whispers. There’s a quality to his voice, almost melancholy.
“Yeah?”
“You have to stop.”
My hands freeze in place as I sit back on my heels. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Fuck no,” he says. He sighs as he laughs. “You just… you have to stop.”
“Okay,” I say, removing my hands from him.
There’s a reluctance in the way he rises, leaving me sitting on my knees in the middle of it. I’m feeling a little confused and dejected.
Meanwhile, Ridge begins to pace at the end of the bed, looking over at me every few seconds.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, placing my hands on my lap.
He’s running his hand over his mouth and jaw over and over again, clearly bothered by something. I can’t think of anything I did that would upset him like this.
I try again. “Are you okay?”
“No, Darcy,” he says. “No, I’m not fucking okay.”
I stay silent, giving him the space to say more when he’s ready. I’ve never seen him like this. He looks positively shaken by something.
“Do you understand that all I want to do is be honest with you right now, but doing so might mean you never want to see us again or nanny for Lou anymore?” he huffs out in a breath.
“Have a little more faith in me than that, Ridge,” I say, attempting to sound playful. “I’m sure whatever it is won’t scare me off.”
He stops pacing and faces me. His eyes still hold a little hesitation, but then he squares his shoulders and exhales.
“Do you have any fucking idea how fucking beautiful you are?” A small chuckle escapes him. It’s filled with nervous energy and a touch of chaos.
I blink several times, my mouth opening slightly to respond but nothing comes out. Because, did he really just say that? What do I say in return? Why is my throat constricting?
“What’s underneath that T-shirt?”
His question shocks me a little. I wasn’t expecting that at all. But it’s not a bad kind of shocked, like I’m appalled. Instead, I’m feeling quite… turned on.
“Just my panties,” I say honestly.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, inhaling deeply. He presses his palms to his eye sockets, applying pressure like he’s trying to rid a headache. And then he drops his hands, his eyes back on me in an instant.
“I’m going to ask you something, Darcy. And you have to be honest with me. No matter what.” His face is serious.
“Okay.”
“I’m a thirty-five-year-old man, Darcy. I’m a single dad, which somehow always has my life in a state of crazy. And then there’s you. And you’re young and beautiful and vibrant. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and you could literally have or be anything you want. You know?” He exhales. All of that tumbled out of him in one breath and now he’s looking at me like I should totally understand.
“I don’t understand,” I admit.
“Just—” He straightens his shoulders and takes a moment to compose himself. “Just stand up, please.”
Without hesitation, I crawl to the edge of the bed and step off, making sure my shirt doesn’t ride up. I’m mere inches from him, but still, he steps closer. His body is humming. I can feel the energy rolling off him. But I don’t move.
My hands are clasped behind me, my fingers threading into knots again and again. Maybe I’ve got a little nervous energy too. Because is this actually happening? Is what I think might be happening real?
Ridge lifts his hand between us, suspended there like he was about to touch me but thought better of it. Then he leans down, and the next thing I feel are his fingers playing with the bottom edge of my sleep shirt. The hem hits mid-thigh, the backs of his knuckles grazing my flesh with each movement.
I don’t say anything. I don’t move. Our eyes are fixed, like we’re in a trance. I watch his muscles in his throat work, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows.
His hand lifts, and with it, my shirt does too. His other hand comes down to the other side as he continues to lift my shirt upward. Ridge’s eyes never leave mine. Before he lifts it high enough to expose my breasts, he pauses.
I should be telling him to stop. I should be pushing my shirt back down over my body. I should be offended and in protest. But I’m not. No part of me wants to stop what’s happening. I’ve only scarcely allowed myself to imagine what it might be like. I never dreamed it would happen one day. I had led myself to believe there was no way a man like him would desire me like this.
“Lift your arms,” he whispers, his voice deep and gruff.
I follow his instructions again, still not hesitating even though maybe I should. But there’s something about him, about the way he makes me feel safe. I know instinctively that I can trust him.
Slowly, he raises the garment over my head and discards it to the floor. In any other situation, with any other guy in front of me, I’d be trying to cover myself up. But with him, I don’t even try.
His eyes fall to my chest as he inhales deeply. Something in his gaze makes me feel empowered. He’s admiring me. It’s not a cheap ogling the way other have in the past. There’s wonder and appreciation when his eyes make their way back to mine, a silent thank-you that doesn’t pass his lips.
“I’ve been thinking about what you might look like under those little dresses you wear,” he says. He reaches out, cupping just above my hip. He squeezes. “What your skin might feel like if I ever got my hands on it.” He licks his lips, the heat from his gaze igniting something deep inside me. “And I’ve thought about what you might taste like if I ever gave into my baser urges to kiss you, to… devour you.”
Before I can say anything in agreement or protest, the fingers of his free hand twirl around a loose strand of my hair. He tucks it back behind my ear and then uses two fingers to tilt my chin up toward him.
There’s a riot in my chest, a chant with every thud of my heart. My body is vibrating, begging him to take what he wants.
His hand coils around the back of my neck as his mouth crashes against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down toward me. His tongue probes and laps at mine as he grips my hips. I nibble at his bottom lip, pulling at it with my teeth.
I slide one of my hands from his neck, down his throat, over his chest, and then lower. I cup his erection against my palm and he stills, pulling his mouth from mine.
“Fuck,” he hisses, stilling my touch.
Ridge falls to his knees in front of me. He looks up, his expression dark, filled with desire. Like maybe he really could devour me. I’ve never been looked at like this before.
He uses two fingers to hook around the crotch of my panties and tugs them to the side. I spread my legs wider, the sudden rush of cool air against my warm skin causing me to shiver.
“You never asked me,” I say, my breathing ragged and a bit shallow.
“What?” His gaze searches mine.
“You never asked me anything. You said you were going to ask me something and to be honest with you. And then you rambled a bit, and then we kissed, and here we are. But you never asked me anything.” I laugh a bit.
“I was going to ask…” He pauses, attempting to suppress a grin before he starts again. “I was going to ask if you could ever see yourself being attracted to me. Or if you could ever see yourself being with someone like me.”
If someone were to walk in right now, they’d see Ridge on his knees in front of me with my panties pulled to the side. They’re the only stitch of clothing I’m wearing. Despite that, we’ve paused for a conversation. And I could end the exchange and get us back to doing what we were before, but a simple “yes” doesn’t feel like enough.
“Once, when I was folding your shirts, I smelled them,” I say. “Like I pushed my face into it and inhaled deeply. And when I woke up with a hangover in your bed, I buried my face into your pillow and inhaled that, too.”
I reach down, cupping his face in one hand. I run my fingers along the coarse hair over his jawline. I trace my fingertip over his bottom lip, then push my finger inside his mouth. He sucks on it, nibbles it a little as he closes his eyes.
“And when we first met at your office, I was so attracted to you, I went home and gave myself two orgasms,” I whisper.
Ridge’s eyes spring open wide with surprise, my finger still inside his mouth. I remove it and run my hand through his hair, tugging him toward me gently. It’s just enough to say, “Please keep going,” and it does the trick.
With his free hand, he slides two fingers into my folds and brushes against my clit. My head rolls back as a small moan escapes me. He slides his hand back and forth slowly and with careful attention. I don’t think a man has ever touched me like this.
There’s a quality to the way he moves, a care that sets him apart from anyone else I’ve had in my bed. I don’t think I can explain it beyond that.
My legs wobble as his touch becomes more intense. I place my hand on his shoulder for balance as he continues to skillfully pet me.
Without warning, he stops and stands, peeling his shirt off. I could be upset he’s no longer touching me, but I’m distracted by his naked torso. His corded muscles flex as he bends to tug his shorts down, but he leaves his boxer briefs in place.
Ridge climbs onto the bed and lies near the center of it. A little confused, I watch as he gets situated, pushing the pillows away from either side of him.
He looks up at me expectantly, like I’m supposed to know what to do, but all I can manage is to stand here gazing down at him. I soak up the way he looks, lying there, waiting for me. He wants me. I can feel it with every fiber of my being.
“Take off your panties,” he says. “And come here.”
I slide them down until they’re free-falling to the ground and step out. I crawl onto the bed and straddle his lap, but he shakes his head.
“No, not down there,” he says. “Up here.” He points at his face.
And let’s just say, I understand the assignment.