Page 90 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
Taking the high road was overrated.
I should have punched that douchebag.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Evie
Ridge couldn’t getover the fact that I’d dated a musician who had written songs about me. We rode home in stony silence, and like a lovesick fool, I’d followed him upstairs to his bedroom and let him fuck me into oblivion.
I clawed his skin and dug my fingers into his hair. He rammed into me, intent on punishing me. But I loved the pain he gave, the feeling of sweet relief when he gave me all of him, and I took, and I took, and I took.
Ridge was like an addiction, and I was a junkie in need of my next fix.
We barreled into shared orgasms, and I screamed his name, my legs trembling and shards of light splintering behind my closed lids as the orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami.
Afterward, panting and sweating, I flopped onto my back, spent and boneless.
“You were someone’s muse,” Ridge said a little while later when we were lying on our sides facing each other, my leg slung over him, his hand gripping my thigh.
“He didn’t exactly paint me in the best light.”
“What happened? Why did you break up?”
“We were never really together.” Ridge gave me a skeptical look that compelled me to say more. “We just hooked up occasionally.” Translation: We fucked on the sofa in the room he rented above a garage.
“He only ever wanted to see me when he needed new material. He never really cared about me as a person. He’d make plans with me and just forget about them. Sometimes he’d take off with the band and forget to tell me. Then he’d show up a month later as if he’d never been gone. He’s a total narcissist. All he ever thought about was himself.”
“Were you in love with him?”
“No.” And it was true. If I’d loved him, it would have hurt when he forgot about me. The truth was that I’d been with Trevor because he was safe. I knew there was never any danger of falling in love with him. Which was kind of sad if you thought about it. Which I didn’t. “I knew what he was like. He probably had a girl in every city.”
“How did you meet him?”
“At a music festival.” I tapped my finger against the tip of his nose. “Can we stop with the twenty questions now?” My phone buzzed, and I rolled over and grabbed it off the bedside table.
“Is it him?” Ridge asked, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Oh my god. You have to stop,” I said with a laugh, although I couldn’t deny that I got a little thrill out of Ridge being jealous. And, of course, I’d been lying when I told Ridge that Trevor was twice the man he’d ever be. It was all part of the little game we’d played back then, and he’d retaliated by hooking up with my archenemy. But we weren’t playing those games anymore.
“Fuck.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “There goes my street cred.”
I laughed again. The message was from my mother. It was two in the morning, and they were heading home tomorrow. While they’d been gone, I stayed with Ridge, and it had been perfect except for tonight’s little tiff. Even tonight was perfect. Sure, he was a tiny bit jealous, but we weren’t really arguing.
I wished that my mother would stay away for the rest of the summer. Preferably the rest of my life. If it weren’t for Wren, I wouldn’t even care.
I tossed my phone on the table and turned to Ridge.
“I’m all yours for the night.” I trailed my fingers down his chest. “What are you going to do with me? Are we going to keep playing Twenty Questions or—”
He silenced me with a kiss.
We didn’t do any more talking for the rest of the night.
* * *
The next few weeks were a mixture of heaven and hell.
Wade was still living with us, and he and my mother were working overtime to win an award for the most toxic relationship in the state of Texas. After their trip to the lake, things had gone from bad to worse. Wade had no interest in being a father to Wren, and my mother would rather get high than deal with her parenting responsibilities. Which left me holding the ball.
