Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2) (8 page)

Chapter Ten

Brenna

A funny little crease formed between Ridley’s eyebrows as we pulled into the parking lot at Serenity Hotel and Resort.

I wanted to slide across the bench seat to smooth it out with the tips of my fingers.  But I was pretty sure it was an unwise idea to make the space between us any smaller than it already was.

It was bad when he’d unbraided my hair.  I’d had to fight to keep from closing my eyes and moaning.  It was even worse when I draped his jacket across my shoulders and filled my senses with his masculine scent.  It was downright terrible when he’d stood up for me in the restaurant and I’d wanted to bury myself in the safe comfort of his arms.

If I moved to touch him…

Risa’s right,
I realized.
I do want him.

And there was no way in hell I could have him.  And no way in hell I could let on that it was true.

Guilt, shame, and sickness made my guts churn.

I shifted a little closer to the door and stared out the window.  It took me a moment to realize I was unconsciously resting my hand on my stomach, stroking a spot right below my belly button.  Was I comforting myself?  Or the unborn baby?  I didn’t know.

“Confession time.”

Ridley’s voice cut through
my thoughts, making my mouth go dry and making my hand jerk away from my abdomen.

“Confession time?” I repeated.

He grinned. “Hmm. Your squeaky voice tells me you may
also
have something to share. Which I promise to extract later using any means necessary. But you can relax. This confession’s all mine. My boss? He’s a pretentious ass and he’s not going to just let you in.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want me to
—”

Ridley swung open his door before I could finish, slammed it
, then ran around to my side of the truck.  He reached in and I had no choice but to let him help me out.

“What I want,
” he said. “Is to sneak a hot cowgirl into my kitchen where I can bake her into a pie.”

He threaded his fingers through mine, and thirty seconds later, he was dragging me through the staff entrance to the hotel.  Every time someone walked by, Ridley covered my mouth and pulled me out of sight.

On the third time, I peeled his fingers from my face and narrowed my eyes at him.

“
How, exactly, are you going to hide me once we’re in a kitchen full of people?”

He winked. “Just wait.”

He put his finger to his lips and guided me down one last hallway, past a lot of clanging and laughter, and stopped in front of a closed door.

“Go on in,” he prodded.

“It’s awfully quiet in there. Is this where you’re gonna off me?” I joked.

“Off you and then bake you into a pie,”
he reminded me.

He unlocked
the door and flipped on the lights.

It was a miniature commercial kitchen.

“Oh my God, Ridley. Is this like the Russian nesting dolls of kitchens? Once we get inside, are you going to lead me to another, smaller, door? And then
that
door will go to an even smaller door?”

Ridley chuckled. “Cute. But no. That boss of mine
isn’t just a jackass. He’s a zealously protective jackass.
This
kitchen is the only place I’m allowed to make those strawberry thingies you’re so in love with.”

My eyes widened. “Seriously? A secret kitchen?”

“If you knew my boss, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised.
I’m just storing this info for later. In case you ever get on my bad side and I need to go to the press.”

“Hmm. Then I guess you don’t want to see how the magic happens?”

I knew I should leave.  Or at least insist that we go somewhere more public.  But when Ridley slipped on his white chef’s jacket and offered me an apron, I somehow found it impossible to say no.

***

Ridley handed me one of the little pastries from his first batch and I popped it into my mouth. 

“How’s that
taste?” he asked.

“Very…” I tipped my head to one side like I
had to think about it.

“Delicious?” he filled in.

“Nope.”

“Tasty?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Orgasmic?”

“Ridley! That’s inappropriate. And also not what I was thinking.”

“Fine. I give up.”

I smiled. “I think the perfect word is…Triangular.”

“Thank God I did it right. Wouldn’t want to have to take any more home with me.”

I reached down and grabbed one of the turnovers waiting to go into the oven and folded its corners in until it was a perfect square.

“
That
particular one may not work out,” I said, then picked up another and rolled it into ball. “Or that one.”

Ridley frowned. “You realize my boss counts those, right?”

My face reddened. “Crap. I’m sorry.”

“And he docks me a dollar for each one that’s missing. Or a whole day’s pay,
if there’s more than ten unaccounted for. It took me a year to collect those ones I fed you yesterday morning.”

“That’s
—” I cut myself off as I met his eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. “Dammit, Ridley. I thought you were being serious. Teasing me like that is just mean.”

“Sorry, PC.” But his smile was as wide as his face.

“PC? Now you’re shortening my nickname?”

“Seemed like the next logical step in our relationship. And PC…I can’t help but tease you
.”

I rolled my eyes. “
And why’s that?”

“You’re just such an easy target.”

“I am not.”

He dipped his
finger in the flour and very quickly marked my forehead with an X.

“See?” he
said. “Even says so on your face.”

“Hey!”

I scooped up a finger-full of the strawberry sauce.

“Don’t you dare,” he
warned.

“Or what?”

“Or else.”

“Brace your
self for an imminent strawberry attack.”

He grinned. “You realize your offen
se is useless if you’ve warned your prey, right? The mighty lion doesn’t announce itself to the gazelle.”

“So you’re a gazelle?”

“That is
not
what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.”
 

I drew my
hand back, but the rattle of the door handle made both of us freeze.

“Shit,” Ridley
hissed. “That’s Ronaldo.”

“The mean boss
?”

“Yes!”

“How do you know it’s him?”

“He’s the only other person with a key.”

“What’re we going to do?”

“Hide!”

He grabbed my hand and yanked me across the kitchen to a heavy door, opened it, then pulled me inside an ice cold room.

We
huddled against a wall of chilly boxes, waiting.  Heavy boots stomped across the tiled floor, but from where we stood, the sound was muffled.

“What’s he doing?”
I whispered.

I was so close to him that my back vibrated against his chest when I
spoke.

“Wondering how the hell thos
e tiny tarts made themselves,” he whispered back.

A giggle burst from my mouth and his
hand shot up to cover it.  His palm was warm under my lips and I had to fight off a little gasp at how good it felt. 

“If you promise not to laugh,” Ridley said right in my ear. “I’ll let you go.”

Very slowly – because I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I really
wanted
him to let me go – I nodded my head.

His hand loosened its grip on my mouth and slid down my shoulder, then my arm.
  At last, his palm found the back of my hand.  His fingers snuck between mine, marking the soft flesh there with electricity.  It shot through me.  It warmed my skin and settled in every sensitive part of my body.

I shivered.

“You cold?” Ridley asked.

His voice was thick and close to my ear and suddenly I was
anything
but cold.

I shifted a little, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.  When I
turned, we were just inches apart.  I tipped my head up in an attempt to meet his gaze.  It was a mistake.  In the relative darkness of the tiny room, the only thing that stood out was the stormy color of his irises.  And now both his hands were in mine, laced together just like they belonged there.

Oh, God.

I let out a breath, and it steamed a little between us.

“Where
are we?” I murmured, hoping the sound of my own voice would snap me out of it.

“Fridge,” he said back, his eyes on my lips.

“It’s small.”

“Funny. Until now, I’ve always thought it was an impressive size.”

He drew my arms up and draped them over his shoulders.  Ridley’s hands slid to my waist, possessive and demanding.

I needed to pull away.  I needed to tell him no.  Right that second.

But there was a snap from outside and Ridley flew into me, pinning me to the metal door.  The door shook behind me.

His boss is trying to get in,
I realized.

The tighter Ridley
gripped the door handle, the harder he pressed against me.  He reached around me and flicked the internal lock shut.  But he didn’t let me go.

My heart thudded in my chest and it had very little to do with any consequences that might come as a result of getting caught.

“Doesn’t he have a key?” I whispered.

Slowly, Ridley shook his head.

There was a final rumble behind me and then the door went still.

Ridley
’s thumb came up and touched the corner of my lips.

“Bit of strawberry. Right. Here,” he said softly.

Automatically, I licked away the sauce.  Ridley didn’t move though, and when my tongue darted out, it hit the pad of his thumb and my mouth sizzled.

“Missed,” he told me.

He dragged his thumb sideways across my lips.  When he’d swept away the last traces of strawberry, he brought his thumb to his own mouth and gave it a sensuous suck.

The gesture made my knees so weak that if Ridley hadn’t been holding me up, I
might’ve collapsed to the ground.  As it was, his arm was around my waist and he kept me from sliding down.

But
his next move sent me over the edge. 

Ridley took the thumb he’d just tasted and put it back on my lower lip.  He dragged it open, traced my teeth with it, and then put it to his own mouth once again.

It turned me from a somewhat-in-control girl to a mindless puddle of wanton need. 

I took a gasping breath.  My hands, which were still positioned around Ridley’s shoulders, were now holding on for dear life.
 

Either he sensed I was about to fall, or he had a need of his own, because
in a move that made me glad I’d seen exactly how much he could bench press, he lifted me from the ground and pressed me to the door.

“Oh!”
My little exclamation barely made it out before Ridley tipped his head down and sealed his lips to mine.

His exploration of my mouth was anything but casual.  Anything but gentle.  He nipped and tugged,
and his tongue dove in and teased relentlessly.  When he pulled away, it was only so he could run his face along my throat.  The stubble on Ridley’s chin rubbed the skin of my throat.  I ached to have it rub elsewhere.

I arched undern
eath him, forcing his face down.

He trailed kisses along the open edges of my shirt, widening the gap and exposing the top of my bra.  His tongue traced the lace and my nipples came to sweet, painful attention.

My legs closed around his hips instinctively.  He thrust forward and my shorts, which had seemed almost too short before, now formed a frustrating barrier between us.  He thrust again and the shorts slid over, just enough that I could feel his erection press into my more-than-damp underwear.

Ridley ground against me and the circular motion
was almost too much to bear.  Heat rose between my thighs.

Why hadn’t a worn a dress? Why had I bothered with underwear? Why did  –

“More, baby?”

Why did he have to use that word?

Any other and I might not have been able to form the command that came out next.