Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2) (15 page)

Ridley’s words floored me.  Maybe they shouldn’t have because the question was such an obvious one, one I should’ve considered long ago.  But I was still stunned into silence.  Had I forgave myself?  Had I even taken the time to think about the guilt that was there, always under the surface?  Or had I just been avoiding it – not just since my mom’s death, but since our separation four years earlier?

“Do you want me to call in sick to work?” Ridley asked.
“Maybe you’ve got an extra pair of pajamas with – what are those, owls? – on them?”

I was tempted
by his offer.

But
I had my date with Ian in a few hours. 

Of course,
at that moment it didn’t appeal to me at all.

So tempted.

Ridley was looking at me expectantly.  And his open face made me damned sure it was a bad idea for us to spend a whole day together.  Especially a day which started with an emotional revelation.  In my bed.

“They’re pandas,
not owls,” I corrected, and with a smile, I added, “And I only have the one pair.”

“All right, Pancake. I can take a hint. But
I’m gonna tell Ronaldo I couldn’t find a recipe. We’ll do Deep-Fried Apple Rings instead.”

Ridley jumped to his feet, and for a second, I thought he was just going to leave.  But at the last moment
he swooped down and brushed his lips over mine.

It was a brief, tender gesture
, and even though it wasn’t overtly sexual, it still made me tingle.  Only this sensation…it was rooted far deeper than something physical.  Something far scarier.

Chapter Nineteen

Ridley

“Tell me
what
your
friend’s intentions are with
my
friend.”

Brenna’s fiery little roommate glared at me from
her spot in the center of the coffee table.

“Uhhh.”

She raised both of her penciled-in eyebrows simultaneously. “Really? You’re just going to make a caveman noise? I thought you were the smart one.”

“Uhhh,” I repeated, and took a brain-freezing slurp of my drink while I tried to think of something appropriate to say.

How the hell did I wind up here, stuck on a couch, pinned in place by this angry girl’s menacing stare?

I knew the answer.  It had started with the purse and the glasses.

It wasn’t until I made my way out of my bedroom that morning – bitter, restless, and late for work – that I’d spotted the two items.  The glasses were on the floor and her purse was sticking out from under the bathroom door.

I’d
grabbed them immediately and dragged them with me all morning as I carried out my boss’s special request.  They’d glared at me from the passenger seat, mocking me and my pride.

When my break came, I’d driven as fast as I fucking could to Brenna’s house.

I didn’t know what I was going to do with them, if I was going to toss them in her face and confront her or if I was going to leave them on her doorstep and pretend last night had never happened.

In the end, I’d done neither.  Or maybe it was a combo of the two.

I’d knocked politely.  Then barged in.  I’d waited patiently.  Then taken the steps to her bedroom two at a time.

Her face, though.

It knocked me on my ass.

Blotchy and sad and all kinds of needy.

I’d become weak once more, falling all over myself to apologize to her.

I must’ve stayed that way all day, because when Brenna’s roommate had unexpectedly accosted me in my driveway at the end of my day, I’d gone along with her demand for me to come inside.

Now I was somehow sitting across from the crazy-looking girl with a second icy cold margarita in my hand and a nervous tick wreaking havoc on my forehead.

“Listen,” I said slowly. “I don’t think Ian is much on intentions. He’s more the spontaneous type.”

“So what does he want with Brenna?” she retorted. “Her whole
life
is an intention.”

“Yeah, I
’m getting that.”

“So…”

“So what?”

“Guys like Ian are all fuck n’ chuck.
Why hasn’t his radar picked up that Brenna isn’t like that? Why is he still interested? Especially after she
bit
him?”

I choked on my drink. “She
what
?”

“He tried to kiss her, and she bit him. It was an accident, but still…Stuff like that usually turns your typical womanizer off.”

“Does it?” I replied innocently, then I downed the last bit of margarita. “Could I get a refill?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s not going to get you out of answering me.”

“No shit,” I muttered.

She still jumped up and exited to the kitchen,
giving me a few moments to gather my thoughts.

The bite was news to me.  What else had Brenna told her roommate?  Had she mentioned last night’s e
xtracurricular activities and their distinct lack of unwanted biting?

Then again…Maybe she hadn’t needed to.  Breaking and entering seemed like this girl’s M.O. way more than it seemed like Brenna’s.
  Too bad I couldn’t just ask her.

She reappeared, pitcher in hand, and announced, “Something happened last night. I’m sure of it. She won’t tell me what, but I know it was big. And for some reason, I’m pretty sure
you
have an idea.”

“What did you say you did for a living?” I replied.

“I didn’t. And not that it’s any of your business, but I’m a waitress.”

“Have you thought about going into interrogation instead?”

For the first time, she cracked a smile. “I’d only be good at it where Brenna’s concerned.”

“I know what you mean,” I said before I could stop myself.

I thought she might argue, but she just nodded. “Maybe you do. And that probably brings me to my second point.”

“Did you make a first point?”

She rolled her eyes. “My first point was that it’s weird that Ian is so interested in Brenna. My second is that you should stay away from her.”

Ah. That explains the hostility.

“Brenna and I are friends,” I stated, careful to keep my voice neutral. “And she and Ian have been on two dates. They’re not getting married.”

“Yet,” she interjected.

My jaw tightened. “You realize she’s the one pursuing him.”

“Yes.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I love that girl to death, and I know she’s self-sufficient as hell…But for some reason, I’m always waiting for her to
break anyway. I have a feeling this is it.” She looked a little deflated. “I just hoped you might be able to tell me if my instincts are right.”

I looked down at my drink.  It was already half-gone, and I was getting there myself.  Which I was sure was the girl’s intention. 

“I won’t let him hurt her,” I assured her.

“What if you can’t stop it?”

I met her eyes.  I was sure she knew more than she was saying. 

Then again.  So did I. 

The buzz of her cell phone cut through the heavy silence between us.

“Shit,” she grumbled. “That’s work. I forgot I picked up a night shift.”

I started to stand, but she waved at me to stay sitting as a she grabbed her purse.

“Finish the drink,” she commanded. “No reason to waste perfectly good tequila. Just lock the backdoor when you go.”

Then she was gone, and I was alone.

I topped up my drink and toasted silently to the empty room,
wondering just what the hell was going on and what the hell I was going to do about it.

Chapter Twenty

Ridley

The pitcher was empty.  An hour had gone by and I hadn’t moved and I was past the point of no return.

And Brenna was home.

I’d heard the key turn in the knob, and then her lushly curved body appeared in the doorway.

“How was your date?”

She shrieked.

“Whoops! Didn’t mean to scare you,” I slurred.

Brenna jumped back. “Ridley?”

“The one! The only!” I lifted my glass with a flourish and mimicked the roar of a crowd.

“What are you doing in my house?”

“
Well. I was having a drink with your friend. But then she left. So I guess I’m just waiting for you, Pancake.”

She hesitated just long enough to give me hope.  Then dashed it with a word.

“Why?”

“Fuck.”

Whoops.

I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.  She stared at me and it was hard to say if her expression was wary, or if it was just plain scared.

“How was your date?” I repeated, trying to make it sound polite.

“Okay,” Brenna replied cautiously.

“Just okay? Not shitty, not fantastic? Just plain old okay?”

Her eyes flicked to the mostly
empty margarita pitcher on the table.

“Are you drunk?” she asked.

“No sense in trying to hide it. So. Yep.”

“I think you should go home and go to bed.”

“I think
you
should sit down and have a drink with me.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“It’s the best idea around,” I said.

“No.”

“Please, Pancake?”

She took a breath, and very, very gingerly, like she thought she might break it, Brenna positioned herself on the edge of the couch.

Or maybe she thinks I might break her,
I reasoned drunkenly.
Hadn’t her friend said something about breaking?

There was a foot between us and I didn’t want there to be.  In what I hoped was a smooth move, but which was really like
ly not, I slid my cup across the table and inched closer to her.

“Drink up,” I suggested.

“No, thanks.”

“A few sips.”

“I don’t drink alcohol, Ridley. Not anymore.”

My wobbly gaze sought her face.  I couldn’t quite tell if she was lying, or if she was hedging.  Maybe somewhere in the middle.

“Me neither,” I told her, then burst out laughing.

A tiny smiled tugged at her pretty little mouth. “Is that right?”

“I get out of control.”

“Me too.”

“Hmm. I bet I’m a worse drunk than you are.”

“I bet you’re not.”

I leaned back and after a second, she did too.  Our shoulders touched and she didn’t move away.

“What’s the dumbest drunk move you’ve ever made?” I wanted to know.

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Why not?
You said we were friends.”

“It’s too personal to share.”

My curiosity was immediately piqued. “Too personal but not too embarrassing?”

“Both.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

She shook her head, making her hair bounce and sending a waft of her signature perfume my way. “Not happening.”

“Oh, c’mon. I’m not gonna remember what you tell me anyway.”

“Judging fro
m how bad you stink like booze, I’m going to say that might be true,” she replied. “But I’m still not telling you.”

I tapped my chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “If I guess it, will you tell me if I’m right?”

“No.”

“Did you get arrested?”

“Ridley…”

I could tell she was wavering and I grinned.
“Did I, or did I not, already get you two of the promised three dates with a sex stud?”

“Yes. You successfully pimped me out,” she agreed.

“Do you, or do you not, owe me a favor?”

“Sure. I’ll mow your lawn for you. Or do your dishes.”

“That’s not what I want, Pancake.”

“What
do
you want, Ridley?”

The question hung between us, changing the air, filling it with electricity and promise. 
Brenna shifted on the couch, tilting herself toward me.

It was at that moment I noticed the dark smudge of dirt under her cheekbone.  It forced me to notice other things too.  Like the tear in the shoulder of her shirt and the
scrape on her forearm.  My eyes travelled down the rest of her body and found her skinned knees, dotted with gravel.

That protective urge – the same one I had whenever she was concerned – overtook me immediately.

“What the fuck happened, Brenna?” I growled.

“It’s nothing. I fell.”

“When you were with Ian?”

Her mouth opened slightly, then hung there like she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

Fuck.

I’d never known my cousin to hurt someone before.  Not a girl, and certainly never unprovoked. 

But how many times had I heard those words from my mother?

I fell, Ridley. I bumped my head on the cabinet, Ridley. It was an accident, Ridley.

If Ian did this to Brenna, he wouldn’t live to see another day.

“Tell me how it happened,” I commanded, suddenly sober.

“We were going to Rider’s Point for a picnic dinner,” she started. “But we didn’t even make it out of the car.”

Her face flamed, and I
had to unclench my fist once more.  I could easily imagine what kept them from getting out of the vehicle.  And it looked like it ended unpleasantly.

She
glanced down at my twitching hand. “It’s not what you think.”

“It sure as hell better not be,” I said through clenched teeth.

“It’s not,” she assured me quickly. “We ran out of gas, just shy of the Point. So we hiked down the mountain, then back up again. It took three hours. By the time we were done, we were both too tired to do anything but come home.”

I studied her face carefully.  It was open and honest and I believed she was telling the truth.  It didn’t change that she was hurt, or that Ian was responsible for it, but it was a hundred times less rage-inducing than my initial assumption.

Slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to, I brought my hand up to wipe away the dirt from her cheek.  She didn’t move.  I slid my hand down her throat, marvelling at the softness of it.  I ran my thumb along her chin.  I dragged it up to one of her ears and rubbed the sensitive spot just behind it.  Her pulse jumped, but other than that, she was still.

Her liquid chocolate eyes were on me.  They held fear and desire.  They held worry and want.  They held
me
.

Jesus.

I’d never seen a look so full of longing.  Did my face hold the same one?

I should stop.

I couldn’t, though.

My free hand came up to the other side of her face and traced the same pattern as the first.  I leaned forward, still waiting for her to protest.  My mouth grazed hers so lightly it was barely a kiss at all and she took a tiny, almost imperceptible breath.  It wasn’t enough.  I wanted to make her gasp, to make her ache, to make her mine.

Thrum, thrum, thrum.

Her heart beat unevenly under my palms.

I left one hand on the back of her neck and brought the other to her collarbone.  I ran the balls of my fingers over it, then down to the swell of her full breasts.  I cupped one, and through the thin fabric of her shirt and the lace of her bra, I ran my thumb over her already taut nipple.  She inhaled and exhaled quickly.

I slid my hand down to her waist, then underneath her shirt and up her back.  I squeezed the clasp of her bra, springing it open.  When I moved my hand forward, the feel of her bare skin under my fingers was almost unbearable.  I reached her breast once more.  I bit back a moan, afraid that any sound would break the spell.

Under my other hand, the pulse in Brenna’s throat increased again, and with it, the hardness between my legs.

Was there a matching wetness between hers?  I had to know.

I drew my hand away from her top and ran it along the hem of her skirt.

Dear God.  It was so far up her thigh that a little push would take me to her underwear.  Had it been that short all along?  Unwillingly, I wondered if Ian had noticed
and wanted to put his hand where mine was right now.

I tried to shove aside the jealousy and failed.  I knew the alcohol was letting it win.  I knew I couldn’t fight it.

So I channeled it instead.

I took the heat of my anger and used it to pull Brenna into my lap, legs straddling my hips.  She sat still like that, a startled look on her face.  I growled and forced her knees apart.

The scant few inches of skirt that had been covering her ass were meaningless now.  I pushed the edge of it up, giving me a perfect view of the white satin between her thighs.

In less than a breath, my hand followed my gaze.  It teased aside the slick fabric and found her wet and waiting.  I didn’t waste any time.  I stroked her clit sweetly in a circular motion while I drove my index finger into her.

And at last she moved.  Really moved.

Up and down and against my hand.  Gasping and panting and rocking along with my ever-increasing tempo. 

I was already rock-hard and ready, and each of her little thrusts brought me closer to release.  My finger was hot and slippery and I knew she was close too.  I pushed a little hard, a little further.  She pulsed and shuddered as she came.

“Ridley!”

She exhaled my name in a pleasure-filled gasp.

My name.  Not Ian’s name.  Not a meaningless endearment.

My. Name.

And that’s what undid me.  My hips went forward and my mind went black and the only thing I was aware of was
Brenna’s sweetness, all around me.  Gradually, our breathing evened out and I slid my arms around her waist to pull her as close as possible.  She stiffened against my attempt.

“Oh my God. Ridley.”  This time, her voice was miserable and my name sounded like it pained her.

Shit. What did I do?

I reached for her face, but before my hand could get near enough, she jerked away.

“What’s wrong?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were the wrong ones.

Brenna leaped from my lap like it was on fire.

“Everything is wrong! I’m dating your cousin and we just – Well, you know what just happened. And you’re drunk and I’m—”

There was something about the way she cut herself off, eyes wide and frantic and her hands over her mouth, which made me want to press her to finish her sentence.

“You’re what, Brenna?”

“I’m dating Ian.”

“You already said that,” I pointed out.

“Did I?” Her voice rose unnaturally.

“You did.”

“Do you still want to know what my dumbest drunk move was?”

For some reason, my blood went cold. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“I think you need to hear it,” she told me.

“It’s fine, Brenna.”

She shook her head. “It’s
not
fine, Ridley. It relates to now and what just happened and…And I really want you to know it
was
a mistake, no matter what comes next. Six weeks ago, I got drunk and made a mistake. I’m sorry. I need to give Ian a chance.”

The ice in my blood moved to my heart. “What makes you so sure it was a mistake?”

“Because it was just sex! And I want something more.”

“I feel exactl
y the same way,” I replied icily, then paused and shook my head angrily, unable to say exactly what I wanted to. “And yet…”

Tears formed in her eyes and I made myself ignore them.  I built a wall around my heart, then fortified it with the idea of her and my cousin, together.  I told myself I didn’t care. 

“You know what, Brenna? Guys like Ian cheapen sex and ruin any chance at romance for the rest of us. Enjoy your life.”

I came to my feet and turned to go.  At the door, I paused.

“One more thing,” I said. “You were right. You’re a far worse drunk that I am. I’ve never fucked somebody the way you did. I’ve never had to live with the regret, and I refuse to start now.”

Without looking back, I spun on my heel and stalked out.

***

My front door was locked.

Fucking Ian.

I rang the doorbell once. 

No answer.