Chapter Six
Paisley
" T hanks for dinner," I murmur, lingering at the door with Ridley after dinner. I'm not really sure what else to say. It feels a little like we said it all back in the kitchen already. But I'm also not entirely sure I'm ready for him to go, either.
I'm terrified of putting my heart on the line again…and equally as terrified of not doing it. I've bounced that conundrum around all night, and I still don't really know which path to take. Either way, I think I risk heartbreak.
Maybe that's the answer. If I walk away now without giving this one more chance, I still walk away with a broken heart. I still don't get over him. But if I give him another chance, maybe it ends happily for us this time. Maybe we get it right this time.
I desperately want to find out, but I'm not the same girl I was back then…
the one who jumps first and asks questions later.
Life ground that habit out of me. Or maybe it was losing Ridley and Pierce that ground it out of me.
I don't know. All I know is that I'm more cautious now, guarded in ways I never even considered back then.
Life forged steel into my bones, but I think it made me cautious, too. When you know what it's like to be broken, well, it's hard not to remember the pain of watching those fissures form.
"You don't owe me thanks, Dimples." He curves a hand around my waist, moving slowly, as if he's giving me time to tell him to back off.
But I don't say that. I stare at his lips, wishing they were on mine again.
Wishing I wasn't a nervous wreck, too afraid to tell him what I really want in this moment.
I want to be brave and bold like I was when we met three years ago…like I was when I slipped my hand inside his pants and practically demanded that he take me to bed. But I haven't been that girl in a long time. I'm the glued-together pieces of what's left of her.
He dips his head, and his lips brush my cheek.
I bite my lip, fighting a whimper.
"Sweet dreams, baby."
Stay, Ridley. Please, just stay. My mind forms the words, but my mouth won't speak them. "Sweet dreams, Ridley."
He holds onto me for a long moment before he reluctantly steps away. With one final look, he practically launches himself through the door, as if he knows he won't go any other way.
As soon as it clicks closed behind him, I regret being a coward. I regret not pressing my lips to his. I regret the whole just friends declaration. We were never friends. We were two nebulae colliding. I think we still are.
Why did I let him leave?
I press my forehead to the door, groaning. Is this really who I am now? So broken that I'm terrified of reaching for what I want? So timid that I just let the chance of happiness slip through my fingers?
He screwed up back then…but I'm not innocent either, am I? His cousin told me that he left, and I believed it. So much so that I packed up and ran all the way back home without even trying to call him to demand an explanation.
If he's guilty of not fighting for me…doesn't that make me guilty, too?
It does. I know it does. And we've both been paying for it ever since.
Well, I'm tired of paying for it. I'm tired of regret. I'm tired of missing him. He's here right now, practically begging me for a second chance. So why the hell am I standing here, fighting what I want?
I yank the door open, prepared to run after him. "Rid…"
His name dies on my lips when I see him standing in front of me, his hands bracketed on either side of the doorframe as if he's physically restraining himself from ripping it off the hinges to get back inside.
His wild eyes meet mine, his chest heaving like he just ran five miles. "I couldn't leave, Dimples. Fuck. I couldn't walk away from you again. I know I won't survive it."
He looks like he's drowning, the fires of hell burning in his gaze. I know exactly how he feels. I feel them licking at my soul, too, threatening to burn me alive.
"Then don't," I whisper.
He groans, the sound so loud and pained, I know making it had to hurt his throat.
But I don't have time to think about that before we're crashing into one another like nebulae colliding again.
The shockwave melds us into a single tangle of arms and legs and clawing desperation.
We tumble to the floor just inside the door in a heap, our gasps lost to the way our lips fuse together.
My legs splay around his hips as he rolls us so I'm on top of him. I cry out against his lips when I feel the hard ridge of his cock against my pussy. There's no stopping the way I rock against him, just to feel him against my clit.
"Christ, baby," he groans, his hands full of my ass as he helps me move on top of him. "Keep rocking just like that. Come all over me."
"I want…want to see it."
"You want to see yourself come?"
"No. Your cock."
"Jesus," he growls, his hips arching into mine again. His hands fall from my ass, ripping through the button on his pants. He tugs the zipper down with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
I bat his hand out of the way before he can slip it inside.
"Fuck!" he groans, his head thumping against the hardwood floor when I thrust my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around his thick length.
"Missed this," I whisper, pulling him out. My fingers glide across the broad head, already sticky with precum. I stroke him, watching the play of emotion across his face. The need in his eyes sears me as pleasure chases desire across his gorgeous face.
"Missed you, too, baby. Christ, I missed you every fucking day." His hands dig into my thighs, his pinkies millimeters from my pussy. "I missed every goddamn thing about you."
"Show me how much," I demand, stroking him from root to tip.
He hooks an arm around my waist, rolling us again. I end up on my back beneath him with him hovering over me on his knees, his dick still in my hand. It falls from my grip when he rips my shirt off over my head.
His lips close around one hard nipple. He sucks, and the pleasure throbs against my clit. He's barely even started, and I already feel him everywhere, like a fever burning me up.
I'm not sure I'm going to survive it.
His hands slide down my body, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touches me. His teeth scrape my nipple as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. With one quick yank, they're around my knees, right alongside my panties.
He lifts his head, his eyes glittering with intent. "Are you dripping for me yet, Dimples?"
"Yes. God yes, Ridley." I have been all damn night. Even when I didn't want to admit it, I wanted him. Even when I was mad as hell, my body was primed and ready for him. Wine didn't tamp the flames. Neither did my bath.
"Good." His lips slide down my body. He nips and sucks and bites, turning me into a sobbing, panting mess beneath him. But he doesn't touch me where I need him most. He touches me everywhere but there, leaving me desperate beneath him.
"Please!" I sob, pushing against his shoulders to force him lower. I need his mouth on me again. It always felt so damn good. He brought me to life with that wicked mouth all over the vineyard. Long before I ever landed in his bed, that mouth had ruined me for anyone else.
My body still hasn't forgotten the way he made it hum back then.
He finally, finally settles between my legs, lifting them up over his shoulders. His teeth sink into my inner thigh, and I lose track of reality. The only things I know are heat and need and him.
"Ridley!" I scream, my heels digging into his back as he lunges, burying his face in my pussy without warning.
He roars against my clit, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout my entire body.
His hands clap around my hips like vises, holding me in place as he devours me.
He isn't slow, soft, or sweet. He's a savage between my legs, tearing me apart in the most vicious, beautiful way.
His tongue circles my clit before he thrusts it inside, so deep it's like he's trying to fuck his way into my soul with it.
I certainly feel him there, destroying my defenses brick by brick.
"Goddamn, baby," he growls, using one hand to spread my lower lips open. "I could eat you like this all night and still not get enough. You going to be a good girl and lay right there while I eat my fill?"
"No," I moan. I'm not going to be good. I'm not going to behave. Not until he feels the same way I do right now, like I'm floating and falling and spiraling into another dimension all at once.
"No?" He quirks a brow, his lips curving into that wicked smirk I love so much. "Too bad. I'm not stopping." His tongue flicks my clit again. "Not until you're coming all over my face."
"I w-want you inside me."
"I'll get there, Dimples," he murmurs between long, lazy licks. "But not until you get there. I've been dreaming about this for three years. Don't rush me now, baby."
How he sounds like he's demanding and pleading at the same time, I don't know, but there's an unmistakable thread of desperation woven into every syllable.
He needs this on some level that I understand instinctively.
This isn't just sex. It's worship. It's the end of three years of sleepless nights and painful regret.
And it's the beginning of something else, something he needs as much as I do. Hope.
I melt beneath him, letting him fuck me with his tongue until I'm shattering into pieces all over his face. Waves crash through me in a tsunami, stealing sight and sound.
I scratch and claw and fucking beg for more the whole time.
He gives it to me, throwing me right into a second orgasm with his lips and tongue and panted praise.
I'm still coming when he roars like a man on the brink and crawls up over me, hooking my legs around his waist. His cock glides through my folds, bumping against my sensitive clit.