Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2) (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Brenna

I stared down at Ridley’s grey
eyes, too transfixed by the dark specks dancing in them to move.  I was afraid to even blink because if I did, I would lose sight of them. 

Even though I could swear I’d never seen such a gorgeous color
– like a winter horizon – up close before, there was something familiar about his gaze.  And whatever the familiarity was, it was making me warm.

You need to get up,
a voice in my head cautioned.

Except when I went to obey, Ridley’s legs closed tightly on my own, effectively immobilizing me.  I
tried wriggling to a sitting position, but that made it much worse.  I was now poised above him.  The hard line between his muscular quad and his kneecap was right between my thighs, and the warmth I’d felt just seconds earlier burgeoned into full-out heat.

“Let me go.” My demand sounded weak, even to me.

“Uh-uh. I haven’t
started
to punish you yet.”

When he said punish, I had to stifle a little moan.

Jesus, Brenna. Get a grip.

“Where to start?” Ridley asked deviously.

I didn’t trust myself to reply because his hands had closed on my hips, driving his leg between mine even harder and sending all coherent thought from my brain. 

I couldn’t focus my thoughts where they ought to be
– on Ian.  I couldn’t consider how wrong it was that this simple contact was driving me crazy with need.  I couldn’t even concentrate my mind long enough to think of the baby at all. 

Instead, the attraction I’d been fighting for the last twelve hours reared up and I was almost positive I was going to lose the battle.

Ridley’s fingers crept up my sides and I wondered if he was completely oblivious to the growing slickness dampening my underwear.  If I got much wetter, I was sure he’d be able to feel it through my pajamas.

His
palms were at my ribcage, so close to my bra-line that my nipples tingled in anticipation of his touch.

Please.

But then his hands tightened and his fingers moved playfully and a giggle burst from my mouth as he began to tickle me mercilessly.

“I’m an expert at this,” he warned. “And I can go for hours.”

“Stop it!” I pleaded.

He paused. “I will. If you take back the unmanly comment.”

“You’re not
horribly
unmanly.”

His fingers dove into my ribs again and I tried to slap him away, but he pinned my wrists together easily and continued his onslaught, one-handed.

“Stop, stop, stop!” I cried between giggles.

“Never.”

I yanked on my hands and he held firm, but in his effort to keep my arms still, he forgot to hold on with his legs.  The second he stopped squeezing, I twisted and rolled.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Ridley murmured.

He sat up quickly, then pulled me back.  I landed directly between his legs.  I laughed and squirmed and I couldn’t free myself no matter how hard I tried.

I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “I take it back! You’re a man!”

He chuckled. “Say that I’m the manliest man you’ve ever met.”

“Ridley, that’s ridiculous!”

He held his hand up menacingly. “Say it.”

“Oh, my God. You’re the manliest man I’ve ever met.”

His smile became smug. “That’s what I thought.”

“Jerk.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for more?”

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

He didn’t release my wrists, but he did loosen his grip and bring them down so I was nestled against him cozily.  And suddenly I realized he wasn’t immune to my closeness any more than I was to his.  The length of his arousal pressed against my backside.  A matching desire licked through me.

I tilted my head around toward him and found his lips right beside mine.  They were so close I could feel their heat.

He’s going to kiss me.

And I wanted him to.  Badly.

My eyelids sunk down and all I could see through my lashes was his perfect mouth.  I drew in an anticipatory breath.

And then the oven alarmed, zapping me back to reality.

I scurried out of Ridley’s embrace and came to my feet with a red face.

He didn’t move.  He just shot me an amused smile.

“Geez, Pancake. You
really
want those turnovers, don’t you?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Is that right?”

His words hung in the air, dripping with innuendo.  Then the oven beeped again, and Ridley stood to take out the pastries. 

The room filled with the sweet scent of them, reminding me that I actually
hadn’t
eaten anything that morning.

Ridley stacked a plate full of the turnovers and put it down in front of me.  He added a tall, cold glass of milk and sat down across from me.

“All right,” he said. “Now that we know who wears the pants around here, why don’t you tell me what you’ve got in that folder there?”

He inclined his head toward the things I’
d set down on his kitchen table when we first came inside.  I’d all but forgotten about it and now that Ridley was staring at it so curiously, I felt a little embarrassed by its presence.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

“It’s something,” he argued.

“It’s something not important.”

“Are you going to make me torture it out of you? Again?”

I shoved down an urge to tell him yes and muttered, “It’s just a list of silly questions.”

“For me?”

My face was hot. “For you. But about Ian.”

He flipped open the folder and scanned the contents. “You want to know what his favorite color is? And his favorite animal?”

“Yes. It’s like a getting-to-know you cheat sheet.
After last night’s massive failure, I didn’t want to be guessing.”

“And this is a serious thing?”

“I thought it was. Until you started making that face.”

“You realize he’s – almost – a grown man, right? He doesn’t care about stuff like this.”

“Well. What
does
he care about then?”

“Tits.”

“Ridley!”

“Sorry, Pancake. Should I have said boobs?
Or breasts?”

“You shouldn’t have said anything.”

He shrugged and popped a turnover into his mouth. “You wanted to know.”

“A
re you actually going to help? Or are you just going to tease me?”

“Probably both. And this list is goin
g to get you nowhere with Ian."

"What
is
going to work? What does he talk about?"

"Himself."

I shot him a dirty look. "But my list is useless?”

“Are you slutty?"

I just about choked on my pastry. "What?! No! Of course not!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

He grinned. "Too bad. Because from wha
t I've seen, Ian likes slutty."

"I'm not slutty!"

"Are you a virgin?" he asked.

Ridley looked like he wa
s thoroughly enjoying himself.  I exhaled and tried to calm the reddening of my face.

"No, I'm not."

He gave me a thoughtful look. "Actually, that's probably a good thing. A virgin might be too intimidating for Ian."

"C
an we be serious for a second?"

"I
am being serious," he told me.

"You want me to talk
to him about being a virgin?"

"I want you to talk to him about
not
being a virgin," he corrected. "Tell him about your first time. Give him something to beat. He likes to win."

My frustration finally got the better of me and the words tumbled out a before I could stop them. "That shouldn’t be too hard. My first time was with my mom's forty-five-year old boyfriend."

I clapped my hand over my mouth but it was too late.  The damage was done.  Ridley’s brow knit together furiously.

"Jesus, Pancake."

I looked down at the table. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you that."

"Don't be sorry."

"No seriously. I've never told anyone that. Not even Risa."

"Is the sonofabitch in jail?"

I shook my head slowly, wondering why I was explaining instead of running in the other direction.

"It wasn't like that. I was eighteen.
Just. But still an adult. He...didn't...uh." I cleared my throat and made myself tell him the truth. "Ridley, I asked him to do it. So my mother would leave him. Not that I had to try very hard to convince him, but I thought maybe it would force her to see what kind of man he was."

"What the hell was he doin
g to her that it was that bad?"

"Feeding her addiction. Pimping her out for collateral. He
was a methamphetamines dealer."

"Shit."

"She didn't leave him."

"What
did
she do?" he asked, sounding like he was pretty sure he knew already.

"She packed my bags, dropped them at the front door, and asked
me
to leave instead."

He slid his chair closer to mine and pulled me into his arm
s.

"I don't care what you say, Pancake. You were barely more than a kid. The guy should’ve rotted. Should still rot. And if your mom couldn't see that..." he
trailed off, his voice brittle.

I spoke directly into his chest, my lips vibrating against the thin fabric of his T-shirt. "I'm past being angry. If anything, I'm thankful. It gave me the motivation I needed to seek something better for myself. And it helped me see I couldn't save her."

Ridley’s hands ran over my hair gently.  When he spoke, though, it was fiercely.

“If I had a kid –
when
I have one – I’d move heaven and earth to protect her.”

His words forced me back to my current situation and I eased myself out of Ridley’s embrace.  I needed to
do just what he said – move heaven and earth – to protect
my
baby, Ian’s baby, from the kind of life I had growing up.

“After Carl, I stayed single for a long time,” I said, keeping my tone impassive. “I worked for a year, saving up for community college and the Early Child Education program. Then I started the course and I met Ted, one of the program directors. We dated for a year before it got a little too serious for me. After that there was Peter, a financial planner at the bank where I got my student loans. We were together for about six months. He proposed, I panicked, and it’s been two years since I’ve even been on a date. So…It might not be an impressive resume, but I’m not a virgin. Will that do, for Ian’s standards?”

Ridley’s eyes met mine.  I waited for him to point out how ridiculous it was for me to run away from two perfectly serious, perfectly well-rounded relationships.  Or how there had to be some kind of irony in the fact that I was chasing Ian with the intention of making him a permanent fixture in my life when he was so obviously the last choice for a girl like me.  But Ridley just gave me a nod, an unreadable expression on his face.

“The first thing you should do is surprise him,” he said slowly. “Ian thinks women are predictable. He knows how to play them. Those hearts and flowers you think you want? Ian knows it’s not true. Girls don’t want that from him.”

“What do they want?”

He smiled briefly. “I’d say they want a good lay, but I don’t want you to hit me again. So instead I’ll say they want arm candy. A pretty-boy to show off to their friends.”

“So I should try to
not
sleep with him?” I tried to keep my dismay from showing.

Because if that’s that case, I’m already screwed,
I thought.
So to speak.

Ridley shrugged and grabbed another turnover. “Or be the arm candy yourself.”

“Make
him
want a good lay?”

I was kidding, but Ridley just about choked on his pastry.  He grabbed my milk and gulped half of it down before answering.

“Trust me. Ian isn’t lacking in that department. He’s a self-avowed man-whore. What you want him to do is to chase
you
. And be a bit of a mystery.”

I shoved down my worry at Ridley’s description and said, “All right. How should I do that?”

Ridley fingers strummed the table. “Do you know that pizza place on Sixth Ave?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me there tomorrow at eleven in the morning. And wear something inappropriately sexy.”