The Romeo Arrangement

My nails rake his back, clutching and tearing, totally gone in a riptide of ecstasy.

And when he groans, shoves his forehead to mine, and our eyes lock in this lusty stare to the death, I drown in Ridge.

He never takes his eyes off me on the final stretch of round one, his pace quickening, his cock reaching so deep inside me I have to fight back every scream.

“Ridge!” I belt out, the only coherent word I’m able to still speak with another O threatening to take control.

I want—I need—him to come with me.

Luckily, I think he gets it.

My gaze remains on him as long as possible, until my eyes flutter shut as the storm draws in, but I last just long enough to enjoy his pleasure growling out of him.

Watching, feeling, loving how his muscles tighten, those bright-blue eyes transformed into velvet smoke a split second before his head whips back, and his groan shears the night.

Then it’s just both of us in a collision of flesh and sounds that aren’t human.

It’s heat and pressure and the feel of his cock expanding, throbbing, pouring out his savage tension as he thrusts to the hilt and claims me forever.

Forever, distilled into one hot night.

“Damn it, Grace,” he rumbles when I’m conscious enough to hear him again. “You got me at a three to one orgasm ratio. Usually I last a lot longer.”

I smile. “Now you know how I feel. It’s embarrassing how fast, how easy I…”

“Only one way to even the score,” he says, mischief dancing in his eyes as he strokes my hair. “Put that sweet mouth to work helping me up and I’ll show you what I mean.”

He doesn’t have to.

I already know, but of course that’s not even in the same universe as learning it in the flesh.

A short time later, I realize I’d been wrong about one thing.

I haven’t just had the orgasm of the century.

The one that strikes next as Ridge eases me up after I’ve finished sucking him, flips me around, and mounts me from behind puts the last few climaxes to shame.

I come so hard I break.

It’s a miracle I only sleep a few hours past dawn after we finally bed down for the night.

I wake up feeling happier than ever with his huge, inked arm around me. I’m careful to slide out so he can doze.

Another hour later, after sneaking out of Ridge’s bedroom and showering, I walk to the cabin to check on Dad. Mixed emotions flit around my insides like unsettled hornets.

No question, that was the most fun I’ve had in ages, the best sex of my life, and probably the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

All in one night.

Crud city.

“Good morning,” Jackie greets me. “He’s awake and super grumpy. I think that means he’s feeling better in Nelson-speak.”

“Oh, good. You picked up his language fast.” Giggling as I walk through the living room, I have to admit she really is the best nurse we could’ve found.

“Morning, Dad,” I say, entering his room and closing the door behind me.

“What’s good about it?” he grumbles. “Nurse Ratched still won’t let me out of this damn bed.”

He looks so much better than he did two days ago. There’s actual color in his face, he’s breathing normally, and it’s been a while since I’ve heard that ugly cough.

I point to the oxygen tube. “Did she say you could take that off?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. She’d have already shoved it back up my nose if she hadn’t.” He levels a serious gaze on me. “You went to town with Ridge last night, right? How was it?”

He knew, I’d talked to him before leaving.

“Fine and dandy.” I bite my tongue, not mentioning the hitch with Jess and the men prowling around the truck. “We went to this bar in town. Not the Bobcat, but a nicer one on Main, Libations, I think it was called. He announced our engagement just as planned.”

It still feels weird saying those words.

“Hmm. I didn’t think you’d agree at first, but then, I remembered you’re you. And you’ll do anything you possibly can for an old fool who bit off more than he could chew.” His face falls toward the ground. “I’ve been a shitty father.”

Whoa.

Clearly, someone’s been doing some heavy duty thinking while stuck in bed.

My heart breaks a little as I take a shaky step toward him, studying the deep lines of age and stress on his face.

I sit in the chair beside the bed, taking his hand. “No, you haven’t, Dad. You made serious mistakes, but…it wasn’t malicious. We never had much, and I know you grew up poor. Everything you’ve done was for me and Mom. You tried to give us something better, whatever the rights and wrongs.”

I don’t think I’m convincing, judging by the sharp, sad look he throws back.