Because Ridley didn’t show up at five in the morning, and with closing the coffee-house, making her way home and packing, it was already that time. He either walked her home or came over early on her days off.
He shrugged. “I prefer you to tell me what happened.”
“Someone came into Poetry Slam today.” There was weariness in her voice, regret, sorrow even, in her tone. With anyone else she wouldn’t allow it, but Ridley was different. So different. She could have loved him with every cell in her body.
“Someone?” he prompted, and came right to the bed.
Her heart jumped. He was so large. Big-boned, raw power, roped muscles. She loved to look at him, especially his face. Right now, there was open concern. For her. She’d never had that either.
“You’ve given me so many firsts, Ridley,” she admitted, because he deserved it. “Thank you. I really appreciate your friendship. You made me feel that I mattered.”
“Kitten.” He sank down onto the bed and ran his fingers through her hair. “You do matter. Tell me what happened.”
She smiled at him. “You can’t fix this one, Ridley. He was a cop. I’m sure of it. He had to be.”
“You’re running from the cops? I thought it might be someone else. Someone bad. A stalker, maybe.” He glanced toward the bag at the door and her partially packed one and then over to the open safe. “And you’re running again.”
She rubbed her chin on the top of her knees. “It really doesn’t matter who it is, I can’t take any chances. I have to go. I’m glad you stopped by so I can say good-bye.”
“You would have left without talking to me first?” Now there was an edge to his voice. His strangely colored eyes went from whiskey to gold and that gold was melting into a glittery, fierce glare that took her breath.
“Ridley, I don’t have a phone. I don’t have a number to reach you. I don’t know where you live. There’s no way for me to contact you. I let you in, didn’t I?” She meant more than let him in her building. She’d let him into her life. She’d trusted him when she’d never trusted another human being. She’d let him inside of her.
He studied her face. The pads of his fingers came up to brush over her skin, as if wiping away tears. “You have to tell me who you’re running from, baby. I can help you.”
She shook her head. “There are some people in the world you can’t fight. He’s one of them. You’d end up dead. Everyone ends up dead. I’m not risking you. I’m not risking Malcom or David. I knew eventually I’d have to leave. It hurts, but still, I had this, I had you, and them, for a little while and I’ll never forget.”
“You’re breaking my heart. If this man is so bad, go to the police, don’t run from them. Let’s end this thing.”
She bit her lip. There was no explaining Rafe Cordeau to anyone, especially not to a man like Ridley who believed he could fix anything.
“Ridley, you have to go. I need to sleep, but before you do, would you kiss me? I haven’t had a lot of firsts and I’d rather you kiss me than someone else.” It took a lot for her to ask him. He’d been careful not to touch her inappropriately, but she’d never had a man kiss her and she wanted Ridley to. It had to be him.
“Kitten.”
He just said it in that voice, the one that went right through her skin and wrapped around her heart and squeezed. His eyes went soft and he reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. Her stomach immediately performed a series of flips. He was strong, so strong he lifted her weight casually, as if she weighed no more than a feather. His heat surrounded her. His arms. For the first time in her life, she felt safe. That was another first he’d given her.
His hands cupped her chin and tilted her head up. Her eyes met his. “Are you telling me you’ve never kissed another man?”
The way his eyes moved over her face, that male possession, that heated intensity, sent little flames of desire darting up and down her thighs.
“Never.”
She felt him go still. Inhale sharply. His eyes changed again, but she couldn’t read his expression because his mouth was on hers. Gentle. Coaxing. The butterflies fluttered. Her heart melted.
“Open for me, Kitten, let me in.” His voice was infinitely tender and his tongue teased the seam of her mouth.
He was already in so deep she didn’t know if she could ever get him out, but thankfully he didn’t know it. She had tasted the forbidden and she knew she should leave it at that, but his lips were firm and warm and his body hot and strong and she wanted to know. She had to know. She parted her lips.
Hot. Wet. Commanding. He just swept in and took her over. The world dropped away and she clutched his shoulders, holding on so that she had something solid, an anchor to bring her back. He could kiss. And he did. Over and over. Robbing her of breath, stealing her heart, claiming her body, first with gentleness, then with aggression, then with tender and then with rough.