Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2) Page 11

  Having her on my living room floor, hair askew and knees red with wood-burn, made it hard for me to remember why that seemed like a good idea in the first place.

  What made me so fucking stupid? I wondered.

  I’d been deluding myself into believing that she hadn’t gotten to me – gotten into my head – so quickly.

  I reached for her now, ready to set the record straight. For the briefest of moments, she let me smooth her hair back, pliable under my tenderness. Then she leaped backward. She landed spread eagle, just a few feet away.

  My eyes raked her body, recalling the feel of those smooth legs wrapped around my waist. My gaze rested on that hot pinkness of her lacy panties and thought of the hot pinkness underneath those panties too.

  Fuck. My body needed that. Say something to her.

  “Well,” I teased. “This is a nice view.”

  She gasped and slid away. In seconds, she’d disappeared down the hall, leaving me staring after her in confusion. I tossed aside my blanket, scooped up her things – a ski mask…really? – and went after her, wondering what the hell her game was.

  “You can’t get away,” I called out.

  “Wanna bet?”

  I couldn’t quite cover my laugh. I rounded the corner just as she ducked into my room. I followed her in. It was near to pitch black, but I could still see her curved outline, arms up and legs pressed against the bed.

  Her stance was defensive. It was also just a little bit ridiculous.

  I tipped my head to one side and smiled. “You know…The front door is unlocked.”

  She jumped forward then, and I thought she was going to force her way past me and out the door. I almost moved to let her go, but then her lips found mine in a crushing, amorous assault that made it difficult to do anything other than respond with equal fervor.

  In the time it took for her pull me in and tip her head up to close her mouth on mine, my arms were already around her, molding her to my chest. My hands dragged to her ass, then to the small of her back, then back down once more. I was desperate to feel her, to touch her, desperate to make up for the days without contact. I wanted to know that our time together hadn’t been in my head, and that the feelings she stirred up weren’t one-sided.

  I slowed the tempo of the kiss. I explored her mouth thoroughly, doing my damnedest to fuse the memory with the now.

  Yes. They were the same.

  Her lips were as sweet as I remembered, her enthusiasm as rich.

  Maybe not the same, I corrected. This is better.

  Her hands were on my back. Then on my hips. Then they were inching down my quads. With a swift, light move that made me groan against her mouth, she reached her fingers into my pajama pants, stroked me once, and then slid around to grip my ass firmly. She held me there for an agonizing second. She rocked sideways in just the right way before sliding her hand in once more. This time her stroke was a little firmer, a little more demanding, and far more maddening.

  I was hard, and ready, and about to lose control.

  Calm the fuck down, Ridley.

  The insistent, commanding voice was right. The last thing I wanted – or needed – was a complication in my life.

  She’d made it clear I wasn’t her first choice.

  I’d spent years dragging myself from the lure of cheap drinks and girls who used me for the one thing I was good at and no way was a slip-up going to drag me back. I wasn’t in a head space that would allow it.

  I pulled myself away from her forcefully, determined to ask her what her deal was.

  “Br—”

  Her lips cut me off once more, even more insistent than the first time.

  Jesus.

  The way she was pressed against me, dressed in nothing but her panties and a matching bra, made it impossible to pretend I didn’t want her. If I tried, my body would just betray me anyway.

  Her tongue darted into my mouth, then out again and heat raged through me.

  I don’t stand a chance.

  The realization hit me hard.

  And if I’m going to suffer, so is she.

  My arms came up again quickly, one hand finding her waist and the other the back of her neck. I slipped my fingers into her hair and pulled. I used just enough pressure to force her head back, but I was just gentle enough to make her gasp in pleasure too.

  My teeth and my lips took turns as I moved down to her collarbone. Each little nip, each little lick made her shiver. If I hadn’t been so focused on the tantalizing smoothness of her skin, I might’ve given myself a pat on the back when she moaned, low and fierce, deep in her throat.

  But I didn’t have time for that.

  I slid my hand from her waist up to her bra strap and unfastened it swiftly. Her breasts sprang free and her nipples came to immediate attention. I grazed a thumb over one, then the other, then brought my mouth down to each as well. I teased and tasted and teased again before trailing a path of hot kisses back up her chest and throat.

  I nibbled her earlobe gently and exhaled a lust-filled moan into her hair.

  I spread her thighs with my knee, then drew her leg up to my hip and pulled her against my erection. Even with the fabric of my pajama pants and the lace of her panties between us, the sensation of being that close was hot as hell. She clawed at my shirt and I pulled it off obligingly.

  Her fingers traced an appreciative pattern over my chest.

  Fuck do I want her. Right now.

  With a growl, I lifted her from the ground.

  “We should stop,” she gasped right in my ear.

  At Brenna’s words – which sounded like a lie – my grip on her hips loosened reluctantly. As she slipped down a few inches, though, her warm, wet, nearly nude center slipped over my hard, waiting cock.

  “You sure you want me to stop?” My voice was a desire-ridden rumble.

  “Yes.”

  The tightening of her legs around my waist betrayed the truth.

  I took three steps forward and dropped us to the bed. I slid down, helping myself to a mouthful of sweet, tender breast. Her nipple grew firm immediately and I let my tongue play along its ridges, enjoy the soft little moan that accompanied each taste.

  I paused for a moment to tease her. “How ’bout now? Still want me to stop?”

  “Oh!” she breathed.

  “Was that an oh or a no?”

  I didn’t let her answer. I took her other nipple between my thumb and forefinger and stroked it firmly while I moved my mouth down the length of her torso.

  Brenna’s hips lifted under me, driving my mouth even lower. My lips grazed the top of her panties and she gasped out something unintelligible.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured into her pubic bone. “I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

  “Ian!” she gasped.

  I froze.

  Did she say Ian?

  “Ian, we should stop. Or slow down.”

  Yep. She really thought I was him.

  How the fuck was that possible?

  I answered the question as quickly as I asked it.

  Because she wants it to be him.

  Bile rose in my throat. Not just because Brenna’s case of mistaken identity proved how badly she wanted Ian, but because I’d let myself believe she didn’t.

  I was wrong when I’d thought the last thing I needed was a slip-up. Really, the last thing I needed was this. A girl who made me feel a hundred emotions I didn’t think I was even capable of.

  A girl who can’t even tell me apart from my cousin in the dark.

  “Ian?”

  My head jerked up and I rolled to a sitting position. After a moment, I felt Brenna do the same. I refused to look her way.

  “You’re right,” I told her gruffly. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop at all.”

  That, at least, was the truth.

  “This is just moving a little fast for me.”

  I ignored the apology in her voice.

  It’s what Ian would do anyway. />
  “You should go,” I said.

  “I should,” she agreed softly.

  After another long moment, she stood and walked to the bedroom door, where she paused.

  “Ian?”

  I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t stand hearing his name again and again from her voice, but there was no point in correcting her. It would just embarrass both of us.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

  The bastard had already planned the second date and hadn’t told me? Of course he had. Sonofabitch. I resisted an urge to cancel their plans.

  I made myself confirm instead. “Yeah, P – err. Yeah, Brenna. We’re still on. And we can pretend this didn’t happen.”

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t look up as she slipped out and I waited until I heard the front door slam before I gave the bed a bitter kick with my heel.

  I forced myself to lie down.

  I stared at the ceiling.

  I cursed Ian and his libido.

  I cursed myself and my libido.

  I knew I wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon, but fuck if I was going to acknowledge – for even a second – that the situation hurt me.

  I got up and paced the bedroom once more.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brenna

  I was too worn down – emotionally and physically – to do anything more than sob into my pillow.

  I knew it was Ridley the moment my lips met his.

  Maybe I knew it was him before the kiss.

  Maybe I knew the second he spoke.

  Maybe when I’d acknowledged him as Ian in my mind, I’d done it to fool myself.

  And I was selfish.

  I’d let myself continue to kiss him. I’d let myself do more.

  I told myself I was continuing to do it so I could wash myself clean of him. Get him out of my system. But the truth was…I’d done it so I could have what I wanted.

  The heat of his touch warmed me from the inside out. His lips on my skin set me afire. With each of his kisses, the line between what I should do and what I was actually going to do had blurred further. By the time we hit the bed, I was a helpless mess.

  How was it possible that my body had such a singular reaction to his ministrations? How was it that he seemed to know so well what I wanted?

  What I needed.

  Even as I’d told him to stop, I’d really been begging him to continue. And he’d known that, too. Any minute – any second – I was going to succumb to the yearning between my thighs.

  My weakness would cause a whole world of regret. A lifetime of it. And not just for me, but for Ridley and Ian and the baby, too.

  So I did the one thing I knew would stop him.

  I called him by his cousin’s name. Repeatedly.

  I wondered who it hurt more. Me? Or him? The searing pain I felt in my heart was enough make me think it might be me. And it was enough to make me pray it wasn’t him. Because anything that hurt more than this did…I wasn’t sure someone could survive it.

  With a choked cry, I buried my face in my pillow once more and let the tears pull me into sleep.

  ***

  Risa’s hand on my shoulder and her urgent whisper woke me. “Hey! You’ve got to get up!”

  I opened my eyes slowly. My head was throbbing worse than the worst hangover and my vision was blurred. I reached for my glasses automatically before remembering they were somewhere in Ridley and Ian’s living room. My heart lurched and my eyes closed again.

  “Brenna.” Risa shook my shoulder. “You have got to get out of bed. The guy from next door is downstairs.”

  My lids flew open. “What time is it?”

  “Three in the afternoon.”

  “Shit. He said he wasn’t coming until six o’clock.”

  “Not that guy. The other guy.”

  All the blood drained from my face. What was Ridley doing there? Had he come to confront me about last night?

  Dear God. What am I going to say?

  Risa’s next words made me feel even sicker.

  “He’s got your glasses. And your purse,” she hissed. “I thought you went over there to get that last night. What the hell is going on, Bren? You’ve been sleeping all day, which I chalked up to baby-ness, but now Bookworm is downstairs looking all pissy and I’m getting worried.”

  I pulled myself up and my head pounded in return. I didn’t think Risa was lying about the time, but out of habit I still glanced at my bedside clock. Of course I couldn’t see the numbers.

  Because Ridley has my damned glasses.

  My friend grabbed my arm and yanked on it. “Earth to Brenna!”

  “Oh, God,” I groaned. “I don’t even know what’s going on, Risa. I think I’m seriously fucked.”

  My roommate’s eyes widened, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my rare – though not totally unheard of – F-bomb or the ready-to-die look on my face. Either way, she stopped trying to coax me from the bed.

  “I can tell him to go,” she said. “Tell him you’re sick or have cramps or something.”

  Ridley’s voice – strained but amused – came from my bedroom door. “He might not believe you.” He paused a few feet away from the bed and gave me a once over. “Although now that he’s seen you…You do kinda look like shit, Pancake.”

  I bit my lip to keep from blurting out that it was his own damned fault. Because he didn’t know that I knew it was his fault. Did he?

  Risa looked from me to Ridley and back again.

  She cleared her throat. “I think I’m going to leave you two alone for a second.”

  I wanted to protest, but Ridley was already ushering her out the door. Which he then closed firmly before he made himself comfortable on the end of my bed.

  He held out my purse and my glasses and I took them wordlessly, careful to keep from touching his fingers as I did it. I slipped the glasses on and stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He opened his mouth.

  This is it, I thought in a panicked internal voice. He’s going to ask about the paperwork in my purse. He’s going to talk to me about last night. He’s going to admit it was him and demand to know why a pregnant girl was -

  “Why do you look so worn out?” he asked.

  I felt a little frown form on my forehead, sure I’d misheard him. “What?”

  “You look like shit,” he repeated.

  “I do?”

  He chuckled. “In a pretty way. But yeah. I mean, I thought my sleep was bad, but you look like you went through hell and back.”

  Was he serious?

  Judging by his face, he was.

  “It wasn’t great,” I told him guardedly.

  “Shove over.”

  Still cautious, I wriggled sideways on the bed. Ridley slid up so he was beside me. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back on the bed with his back against the wall, as comfortable as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

  I clutched my purse in my hands, afraid if I moved I’d brush up against him and send myself back into some kind of crazy tailspin of want.

  “You wanna know why I slept so badly?” Ridley asked.

  Crap. No.

  But I nodded anyway. “Okay.”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you and me and last night,” he told me.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “And I was glad when I found your stuff this morning. It gave me an excuse to come and say I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry?”

  He cracked one eye and looked at me sideways. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

  My mouth worked. What was he sorry for? Making me hotter than I’d ever been? Letting me put my hand down his pants?

  “Oh, c’mon, PC. Don’t make me beg. I was kind of a jerk about the whole Shay thing last night and I think I ruined your and Ian’s date. I need you to forgive me so I can go back to work in peace. I only get an hour for lunch.”

  He’s not going to say anyt
hing. And he didn’t look in the purse.

  My entire body relaxed with the realization. Tears actually pricked at my eyes and I was glad I had my glasses on to cover it.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” I managed to get out.

  Ridley slipped an arm across my shoulders. He kissed my forehead.

  “So we’re good?”

  “Perfect.”

  He sighed and left his arm around me. I knew I should pull away. Or at least feel a little awkward. But he was just too damned comfortable. I hated myself a little for leaning into him and breathing in his heady, masculine scent. Still. The self-loathing didn’t make me stop.

  We sat that way for several minutes, me in my favorite ratty pajamas, tucked into him, in his crisp chef’s jacket.

  “Well,” he said finally, sounding as sleepy and content as I felt. “I guess I’d better go. My break’s not that long.”

  “The masses won’t want to wait for their strawberry thingies,” I agreed.

  “Actually, I’m doing something different today,” he replied.

  “Different?”

  “Don’t sound so appalled,” he teased. “I occasionally do things other than make treats for you.”

  I blushed. “Well I know that. I meant what are you making that’s different?”

  “Samples.”

  I pulled away and narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you being purposely evasive?”

  “Yes. It’s a secret and I know you can’t be trusted.”

  “I can be trusted!”

  “No way. The second someone tickles you, you’ll give everything away.”

  “I was able to successfully avoid being tickled for twenty-two years until you came along. Besides which…You already know your own secret,” I pointed out.

  “So you think you can avoid it again for another twenty-two years?” He wiggled his fingers at me threateningly.

  “You don’t scare me,” I replied with mock-defiance.

  Ridley’s poked my ribs once and I fought a giggle. “Cookies.” He poked a second time and I clenched my jaw shut. “And.” He jabbed again, this time with each syllable hespoke, and with each one, a laugh burst through. “Cream.” Giggle. “Cup.” Jab. Giggle. Jab. “Cakes,” he finished.

  My laughter died in my throat, and I gripped his arm tightly. “What did you say?”