Chapter 34
Robyn
My knees are at my ears.
I didn’t know I had this kind of flexibility, but here we are. Ridge is above me, and the headboard has been slamming against the wall for so long that I’m certain there’s a permanent dent in the plaster. I’ll need to send my neighbors a fruit basket or something.
All I can think about is my orgasm…my third one for the night.
He’s been relentless. There’s no other word for it.
Whatever happened to him today, whatever stress he carried through my front door, he’s working it out of his system one orgasm at a time, and I’m reaping the benefits in ways I didn’t think possible.
His hips snap forward, hitting that perfect angle, and I make a sound from deep inside.
Everything inside me draws tight and then tighter still. My eyes go wide, and the air seizes in my lungs.
Then my body lets go, and all at once, muscles convulsing around him in waves. I shout his name, my nails digging into his back. He groans, getting that look in his eyes I’ve come to know. Then he growls my name, and I swear my orgasm surges all over again.
My heels dig into his back. I thrust up, meeting him halfway.
He holds himself up on his elbows. His eyes go slitted, and the muscles on either side of his neck stand out.
He’s beautiful as he comes. He’s just plain beautiful in every masculine way imaginable.
He keeps moving, gentler now, working me through the aftershocks until I’m shaking.
Then he leans in and kisses me softly. I cup his face, kissing him back. Some of his weight is pressing down on me.
Then he shifts off me, gripping my hips and flipping me over.
I throw a hand up between us, gasping. “Two minutes.”
I laugh.
He does too, and rolls off me. I let my legs collapse onto the mattress and flop back against the pillows, sweaty and boneless and probably grinning like an idiot at the ceiling.
After a minute of heavy breathing, I say, “That was intense. Did you have a stressful day?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.”
We lie there in silence. I can hear his breathing slowing next to me, can feel the heat of him along the length of my arm.
“So,” I say, trying to fill the silence, “you’re nearly done at the hospital?”
“Yep.”
“And our arrangement will be over?” I sound wistful.
I cringe internally because that sounded like I was asking for more.
Was I asking for more?
Shit. I might be.
Please, God, don’t let him think I am.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’m afraid so.”
“Do I detect a hint of disappointment?”
I want to kick myself. Why can’t I stop talking? What is wrong with me tonight? Multiple orgasms have apparently dissolved whatever filter I usually maintain between thought and speech.
He’s quiet for a beat too long.
“We are good together,” he says. Then, quickly, like he’s just realized how that sounded: “In bed. I’m going to miss the sex.”
“But you won’t miss me?”
Stop talking, Robyn.
I sound needy as hell, and I hate it.
“I like you, Robyn. I really do.”
And there it is. I know this tone. Now I know how Rider feels when I turn him down. The “but” is hanging in the air between us.
“But…” he says.
There it is.
“I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“That’s good.” I keep my tone light. “Because neither am I. I’m still too career-focused. Maybe in a year or two, if I meet the right person.” I shrug.
“What about children? Do you want them?” he asks.
I exhale slowly, staring at the ceiling. It’s a question I wasn’t expecting.
“Can you hear it?” I ask him.
“Hear what?” He frowns.
“My clock is ticking.” I widen my eyes. “I did want kids. If you’d asked me a couple of years ago, I would have given you a resounding yes. But things have changed since then.”
“What things?”
“I got divorced,” I tell him. “It happened just over a year after we got to Draig Island. Bruce wasn’t happy here.
I was thriving, and he wanted to go back.
I got promoted, and I became his boss, which didn’t help his ego.
That was the beginning of the end. We fought more and more.
It didn’t work out.” I push out a breath. “It was tough.”
“Divorce is not a concept that shifters understand,” he says. “We mate for life.”
“I know.” It comes out wistful, and I don’t try to hide it.
“I think part of the reason I shy away from relationships now is because of how broken my mother was after my father died. She never took another mate. A huge part of her died with him. It never came back. She died when I was on the frontline. Just collapsed one day. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her.
” Ridge has turned his head to look at me now.
I can feel his attention on the side of my face. “I think she died of a broken heart.”
“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s also probably why I would never mate with a human. We’re too different as a species.” He shakes his head.
I turn to face him, propping myself up on one elbow.
“That’s not really fair, you know. There are plenty of humans who marry for life.
Who mean their vows. When I married Bruce, and I said those vows, I meant them.
I wanted it to be forever. I wasn’t the one who slept with someone else.
I wasn’t the one who left. It was him. He hurt me.
He left me. He went back to the Mainland with his girlfriend, and he never looked back.
You were the first person I slept with in years.
I was broken. My visions of our future…of having a family…
all went up in smoke. To think I was gearing up to leave it all to go back to the Mainland for him. I would have regretted it.”
Something flashes across Ridge’s face.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. He didn’t deserve you, Robyn. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug again. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“I hope you find love one day. That you have a couple of kids. You’d make a great mother.”
I smile, and it’s smaller than I want it to be.
“I think that ship might have sailed.”
He frowns. “You’re still young.”
I frown at him.
“I’m forty next year.” I let out a snort-laugh. “It would be termed a geriatric pregnancy. It’s frowned upon and generally considered high-risk. I’m not young anymore. It is what it is.”
“Oh yes, I forgot.” His mouth tips up at the corner. “You’re an old lady.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
“I’m a cradle snatcher and, yes, I’m old.”
“You still look fucking sexy for a granny.” His voice is a rough growl.
His hand slides across my stomach, fingers splaying over the soft skin there before gliding up. He cups my breast, gives it a gentle squeeze, and his voice drops about an octave.
“Have you had a long enough break yet?”
The question lands somewhere low in my body, and just like that, I’m interested again. Apparently, my refractory period is around four minutes now. Excellent. I’ll add that to the list of things I’ve learned about myself tonight, right after the part where my knees can touch my ears.
I roll onto my stomach and push up, lifting my ass.
He makes a sound from deep in his throat.
The mattress dips as he moves behind me, his hands finding my hips. There’s a pause, just a beat, before he speaks.
“I am going to miss you, Robyn.” A breath. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
And then he’s pushing into me in one long, slow stroke that has me dropping my forehead to the pillow. He grips my hip with one hand and starts to move, building a rhythm that’s quick and deep and unforgiving, while his other hand slides beneath me and his fingers find exactly where I need them.
Why did he apologize?
The thought drifts through my head, and I try to hold on to it. Why? What is he sorry for? For ending the arrangement? For not wanting more? For—
His fingers move faster against my clit, and the thought dissolves. All of it is gone. Just like that, I’m chasing my next orgasm; the crazy thing is that I can already feel it building.