Page 46 of Ruined

My breath hitched in my throat at his words. I sat back on my heels and let my eyes run over the man in front of me. River wasn’t really a looker. He was rugged, not as handsome as Joey or Tristan, but there was something about him that drew me in and made me crave him. Neatly trimmed scruff lined his jaw and around his lips, and his dark hair was shoved back on his head, needing a haircut. Tattoos littered his skin, not leaving a single part of him bare.

I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to River, that I wanted to be his in some kind of way. It was fucked up. I loved Joey. I even loved Tristan. Yet, there I was, falling for yet another man.

I was a fucking mess.

I knew River had to be from somewhere in the south because of his southern accent, and he wore flannels better than any other man there, Tristan included. Tattoos swirled over his skin, disappearing under the sleeves of his flannel only to reappear back on his neck. He was broad-shouldered, and his arms flexed with each movement he made.

Why the fuck hadn’t I made a move on him before?

Because right then, I wanted him. Fucking badly. I wanted him to claim me as his, but I knew that would be asking too much from him. I’d never seen River show any real interest in a woman.

But I would have him in any way that I could.

“River, you got an old lady?” I asked him as I grabbed a wrench from the floor, yanking my eyes from him.

“Nah. Tried that once. She divorced me six months after we got married.” He didn’t seem bothered by it though.

“That’s got to suck,” I commented as I continued taking the bike apart.

I saw him shrug from the corner of my eye. “It was five years ago, darlin’. I’m over it.”

I stood up, deciding to take a chance. Fuck it. The worst that River could do was deny me. But I wanted someone to distract me from the shit my life had become. Someone that wasn’t Tristan.

I wanted that someone to be River. If I could have this with him, I would take it. He’d shown me kindness. Shown me what it was liked to truly be cared about.

Not in the fucked-up way Joey did.

Not in the tainted way that Tristan did.

I walked over to River, swallowing nervously as I did so. He only watched me, and his blue eyes didn’t give anything away. It was a little nerve-wracking, but I didn’t let his lack of emotion stopme. “Want to do me a favor?” I asked him, stopping when I was a couple of feet in front of him.

He tilted his head to the side the tiniest bit as he studied me with an unreadable expression on his face. “Depends on the favor, darlin’.”

“Make me forget?” I quietly asked him.

His eyes softened all while they blazed with a lustful heat that made my nerve endings curl. Understanding passed over his features, and I knew right then that he wouldn’t turn me away.

He wanted this, too.

“You trying to get me in trouble, girly?” he huskily asked me as he set his beer on the toolbox next to him.

“No one has to know,” I told him. “It can be a secret.”

His eyes darkened at my words, and his brows arched the slightest bit. “We’ll keep it a secret if that’s what you want, darlin’, but I fucking want you, and I frankly don’t give a fuck who knows about us.”

Before I could respond, he gripped the back of my neck and crashed his lips to mine. His other hand gripped my hip tightly, yanking me against him. I gasped when I felt his hard, powerful frame press against my softer, bonier one, a soft moan falling from my lips as I completely lost myself in him and the need already running through me.

Gripping my hair in his fist, he tilted my head to the side, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my jaw and neck, nipping lightly at the spots that made me moan the loudest.

“River,” I gasped, gripping his cut in my fists.

“You sure you want this, darlin’? I’m not going to be gentle,” he warned me, his voice husky. He drew back some to look down at my face, those gorgeous, mesmerizing, blue eyes locking on my own dark ones.

“Yes,” I breathed, feeling like I may lose my fucking mind if he didn’t finish what he had started.

“Fuck.” His lips molded with my own again as he knocked everything off of the work bench behind me.

Tools clattered loudly to the floor, but he gave no fucks as he lifted me and set my ass on the cold metal, his lips moving back down my neck. His hands gripped the bottom of my shirt, and I lifted my arms, allowing him to pull it over my head. With quick, sure fingers, he unsnapped my bra, tossing it down on the concrete floor with my shirt.

---