Page 36 of The Vineyard Crush

His forest green gaze clashed with mine over the picturesque scene, that infuriatingly smug half-smile tugging at his lips as he dropped into a casual seated position, one booted ankle crossed casually over the opposite knee. Patting the blanket beside him, he arched one brow in silent challenge.

“You just going to stand there admiring the view all day, little bird?”

Heat prickled along the back of my neck at the light tease lacing his tone, warring with the shiver of awareness that trickled down my spine. Jaw clenched, I marched over and lowered myself onto the corner of the blanket farthest from his tempting radius, suddenly craving that maddening distance again.

Not that it did a damn bit of good. No matter where I tried to focus—on the bubbling laughter still drifting from the creek, on the bursts of sunshine winking through the trees, on the plump grapes and oozing brie mere inches from my fingertips—my senses remained utterly consumed by his nearness. By the fresh, earthy scent of him. By the tickling heat radiating from his solid frame and the utterly masculine sprawl of his limbs that demanded every inch of my periphery.

An entire universe seemed to exist in the scant feet between us, hot and electric, simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. Sneaking a sidelong glance, I couldn’t halt the shaky exhale at finding his heavy-lidded gaze already boring into me, those kissable lips curved in a heart-stopping grin.

“What?” I breathed before I could stop myself.

Ridge’s smile deepened as he lifted one broad shoulder in an infuriatingly casual shrug that still managed to draw my eyes to the solid plane of his chest, then lower…

“Just enjoying the view, little bird.”

“So you scared of the water or something?” The teasing lilt slipped out before I could rein it in, my mouth curving into an impish grin as I cocked a challenging brow in Ridge’s direction.

One of his shoulders lifted in an indolent shrug, drawing my wandering gaze to the flex of damp cotton straining across his broad chest. “Nah,” he drawled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just thought I’d grab a few moments of peace before joining the chaos.”

He jerked his chin toward the creek, where Lily and Cody’s squeals had escalated to a true din, punctuated by Scooby’s booming barks as the oversized Labrador bounded through the shallows. My smile widened at the heartwarming scene—Cody hoisting his giggling little sister onto his back while she clung to his neck like a baby koala, both of them shrieking with glee as Scooby circled them in a frenzy of rowdy splashing.

“Want some?”

The low rumble of Ridge’s voice had me tearing my gaze from the joyful chaos to find him holding out a soft wedge of creamy brie, those long fingers calloused and blunt in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive. And yet my mouth watered at the simple gesture, as desire detonated low in my abdomen like an ember catching flame.

Before I could respond—or potentially make a fool of myself by fixating too long on his hands—the callused pad of his thumb swiped gently across my cheekbone, snagging a few stray grains of sand. My breath stuttered in my lungs as his touch lingered, scorching a blazing trail across my skin. Dark lashes,lowered instinctively, unable to tear my gaze from the tantalizing curve of his beautifully sculpted mouth as his teeth snagged his plump bottom lip.

“Dad…go dere.”

The husky command shattered the heavy tension blanketing us. Avery wriggled in Ridge’s lap, her tiny brow furrowed into an almost comical scowl as she tugged insistently on the soft henley stretching across his chest. A startled laugh tumbled up my throat at the ferocious intensity blazing in those deep green eyes surrounded by a halo of tawny curls—an uncanny mirror of her father’s piercing stare.

“You’re right, Avis.” The roughened timbre of Ridge’s voice had me dragging my gaze upward to find him grinning down at his youngest with ill-concealed adoration. Pressing a noisy smack to her chubby cheek, he passed her to me before surging to his feet in one sinuous movement. Looming over us with hands braced on lean hips, a wicked glint sparked in those crystalline depths. “The girls have spoken. Time to join the war zone.”

Avery squealed in delight and immediately began squirming in my arms to be put down. “Careful there, pixie,” I cautioned with a laugh, depositing her on the blanket where she could scamper off on those wobbly legs in chase of her dad.

Who, rather than rushing to meet his other two wildlings, moved with measured, predatory strides to the creek’s edge and held out one booted foot, testing the water. My laughter trailed off, mouth going dry as he gripped the hem of his shirt, peeling the soft, wrinkled fabric up and over those rigid abdominal muscles that clenched and released with each controlled breath.

Sweet mercy. Who knew a man simply removing his shirt could be such a visceral experience?

Every millisecond seemed to stretch into eternity as Ridge slowly revealed tanned, toned expanses of olive skin and crisp, dark hair that arrowed invitingly below the waistband of his worn jeans. Finally, the shirt cleared his head in one sinuous motion, exposing thick cords of muscle rippling along shoulders and biceps and forearms from a lifetime of hard labor. I may have actually whimpered at the magnificent sight before me.

Apparently the sound carried across the clearing, because Ridge went preternaturally still, his head tilting a fraction to pin me with a heated sidelong look from beneath those ridiculously thick eyelashes. A slow, predatory smile stretched across that mouth I’d just been coveting as he braced both hands on his brawny hips, emphasizing the carved ridges of his abdomen that narrowed into the most delicious vee pointing south…

“You coming in or you just gonna sit there and stare all day, little bird?”

The low, gravel-rough challenge simultaneously spiked my blood pressure and obliterated what little willpower remained. “Watch out, Cowboy,” I growled, shoving to my feet and stalking forward with purpose, unable to resist skimming my fingers along the slick, bronzed skin of his arm as I brushed past. “Pretty sure you’re the one who’s going to be regretting getting into the warzone with me.”

Then I was sprinting for the creek, blocking out his rich laughter rolling across the grassy bank, the high-pitched shrieks of his kids egging me on. All that mattered was the delicious chill engulfing my legs as I dove into the shallows, the surging current sluicing up my back in a heady rush of adrenaline.

No sooner did my head break the surface than a massive wall of icy liquid came crashing down, momentarily obliterating my senses in a torrent of shocking pleasure-pain. Sputtering, I shook the drenched tendrils of hair from my face in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of Ridge’s bare skin disappearing below the churning water, powerful body surging into an undeniable riptide.

Sixteen

Ridge

Sweet Jesus Christ, I was a dead man.

That was the only coherent thought firing through my lust-addled brain as I drank in the glorious sight before me. Emma Harrison, soaked to the bone, those skintight jeans clinging to every lush curve like a surgically-implanted second skin. Her flimsy t-shirt was a ruined, transparent mess, tiny pebbled peaks straining against the drenched cotton in a way that damn near stopped my heart.

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