Page 34 of Ambrosia Kisses
"Expecting someone else?"
"No." She turns in my arms, looping hers around my neck. "I just didn't think you'd want to dance."
"Did you want to dance with me?"
"Um, duh."
"You should have told me, Dimples. I wouldn't have taken so long had I known."
She cocks her head to the side, her expression full of doubt. "Really?"
"Yes, really." I chuckle, dipping my head to kiss the frown from her lips. "You think it's a hardship?"
"Most guys don't like to dance."
I spin her back around, hauling her up against me until my cock is nestled between the plump cheeks of her ass. My lips brush the side of her throat as she sways her hips against me.
"I'm not most guys, baby," I murmur against her skin, licking a line all the way to her ear. "I remember the way we moved together at Lucy and Oliver's wedding. Do you?"
She moans softly, and I know she does. It was that fucking dance that broke us both. After two weeks of torturing each other in every corner of the vineyard, going as far as we could without actually fucking, we snapped that night. It was impossible not to break with her body moving against mine like a wet dream. We barely made it back to my place before she had her hand in my pants, begging me to fuck her.
We sway together now just like we did then, our bodies flowing against one another as the music vibrates the floor beneath our feet. It throbs through our bodies, each heavy thud shaking loose the same desperation we felt back then. Only, it's more powerful now. Because we know exactly how good we are together. We know exactly what we're missing right now.
Her body on mine. My hands in her hair. Her hips rocking. My breath in her ear.
"Fuck," I growl, my hips bucking when I feel her hand brushing against the hard ridge of my cock. I wrap my hand around her throat, turning her head to capture her lips in a scorching kiss. I'm starving for her, every damn minute of the day.
Her soft moan only spurs me on. Our breath and tongues tangle as one song flows into the next. I get lost in her and the rhythm. No one else exists. Nothing else matters. With her, it never does.
"Ridley," she whimpers when my hands skim her sides before sinking into her hips. "I need you."
Those three little words break me.
I grab her hand, pulling her from the dance floor. We don't say goodbye. We just run. Toward solitude. Toward us.
We barely make it to the truck before I'm all over her. We fuck in the backseat, frantic and messy. She rides me with her hair tangled around her face in a wild halo and my name on her lips, our bodies crashing together again and again.
She's a goddess on top of me, claiming what belongs to her. My body. My heart. My fucking soul. I give it all to her, holding nothing in reserve.
"Are you still afraid?" I ask when the storm passes and the sweat is drying on her skin. She's in my arms, splayed across my lap like a wanton sacrifice.
"A little," she whispers.
I tip her head back, brushing my lips across hers. "I'm not going anywhere."
It's a reassurance, a promise, and a reminder all rolled into one. I'm not going anywhere. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. Maybe I just need to work a little bit harder to prove it to her.
Chapter Eight
Paisley
"Aunt Paiswey!" Lyra cries,racing across the yard with her arms thrown out wide as soon as Ridley and I step outside.
I kneel, setting her gift in the grass beside me before scooping her into my arms with a soft cry. "Princess!" I spin her in a circle, kissing all over her face. "Happy birthday!"
"I'm free now!" she says, beaming at me as she holds up four fingers instead of three.
"Yeah, you are." I grin, smoothing down her hair. Lucy put it in a braid, but it's already a mess. I'm not really surprised. Little Lexi is the chill all day, every day. Not Lyra. She has one speed, and it isn't slow and steady. She crashes through life with zeal all day, every day. "Are you having fun?"
