Page 27 of For Puck's Sake

“Dean, sound check, yeah.” I cut in before he gets his face rearranged by Ridley for the second time. I crook my finger at Ridley and point to the table right in front of me. Dean inclines his head and gives Ridley a wide berth and jogs away to cut the music in the bar.

“Come here, my little Brea-bunny,” I tease as the music is abruptly cut off overhead.

Ridley smiles, blue eyes sparkling, joyous and happy, the way he should always look. It’s all I ever wanted for him, and it hurts I was the reason his light dimmed for a while.

“Luna, there is nothing little about me, love.” He walks toward me and plops down on the seat. “And I think the proper terminology is groupie.” He smirks, and all I’m doing is staring at his body like the thirsty fiend I am. God, how long has it been?

“You have puck bunnies in hockey, I have Brea-bunnies, just one though.” I hold up one finger then slowly point it in his direction.

Ridley gasps in mock-surprise then starts to shout, “Brea! I love you! Oh my God, you’re so hot! Ahhh!” He squeals like a pre-teen at a Taylor Swift concert, jumping up and down, clapping his hands manically and screams, “I love you!”

I throw my head back and laugh at this ridiculous man. I should be playing Bessie to check levels, but instead I’m letting myself fall even deeper in love with the man I never stopped loving to begin with. I’m having too much fun. Ridley has always made life this way. He’s an adventure in itself. I sober for a second, because he was right earlier in the car. We need to live in the now and enjoy the time we have left with each other.

“Can I make a request?” Ridley asks after I finally pull myself together enough to get back to what I should be doing. I’m sure Dean wants to march in here and give me the third degree, but he wouldn’t dare in front of Ridley.

“Sure, anything for my biggest fan.” I blow him a kiss and he hurries to catch it, clutching it to his heart.

“Can you play me a song about the moon, Luna?” he finally asks, propping his elbows on the table with his head resting in his hands. His request takes me by surprise. My thoughts take me back to his birthday party all those years ago, under the moonlight, his head on my shoulder as I performed an impromptu mini concert with a silly tune, with even sillier lyrics.

“For you, anything,” I say as I begin to strum the familiar chords for the man who’s recaptured my heart. He could, justlike before, ask me for anything and I would travel to the moon and back to make it happen.

I spend the rest of my performance with Ridley cheering me on, front and center, with a proud loving smile on his face. Yes, I played for my fans, but like always, when Ridley Masters is in the room, I’m playing for one, for him.

The night sky is cloudy tonight, leaving streaks of moonlight slicing across the split in the path we are approaching. One side leads to the guest house, the other to Tor’s lakeside home. Ridley walks in front of me, my hand clasped in his. He’s not pulling me along, honestly, his hand feels more like an anchor as he brushes his thumb gently over my fingers. Is he aware of the change in the path up ahead? I’m sure he is. His hand makes me aware of his presence, there’s no questions, no manipulations. He just holds my hand, letting me know without saying that whatever direction I turn tonight, it’s okay. Despite what he said earlier, there’s no pressure for sex, and I know it.

I can admit I’ve been hesitant. The remnants of my earlier misgivings made me pause in going further intimately. But damn it, my panties are wet, they’ve been this way since the kiss in the car this evening. I had to sing and play with those gorgeous blues shining back at me from the front row. I felt like I was singing to his lips at one point, those perfectly kissable soft lips I want to suck like a lollipop. Gah! Talk about sexual frustration! It’s been months. I mean, instead of watching my steps in the dark, I’m watching Ridley’s juicy hockey ass move inside the fabric of his jeans. Who needs a BBL, someone needs to be paying close attention to the workout routine of hockeyplayers and getting tips on how to lift your ass naturally. They would make a killing, because the proof is right in front of me. I can bounce a quarter?—

“Angel,” Ridley’s voice cuts through my salacious thoughts as I blink away the lust from my eyes.

“Yeah,” is all I can say in response. He turns to face me, left brow lifting inquisitively.

“Did you hear what I said?” He tilts his head and studies me, then smiles. “Or were you staring at my ass this entire time? I have to say, Miss Brookes, some things never change.” He shakes his head in amusement, making me roll my eyes. I guess I can’t deny it, he’s right. His ass is a treasure.

I point to the ass in question. “Ridley, you are the one with your back to me. I am just admiring the view,” I say sauntering forward until my body is flush with his. “Plus, I never gave you my panties earlier, so I am hoping I’m still your prize for the night.” I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss him on the side of his mouth. The gesture is sweet, even though there is not a sweet thought in my head about where I want this night to go. I’m done waiting. This man is mine. No more doubts.

“Well, you’ve answered my question,” he says as he turns his back to me.

“Which is?” I ask, already knowing what he wants me to do before he asks. I make sure Bessie is secure and launch myself onto Ridley’s back.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says as he secures his hold on my legs. “Hold on, Luna, I need to get you inside before I decide to strip you right here out in the open.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to— Ouch!” I screech from the shock and surprise as he reaches around to swat my practically bare ass underneath my dress. “Seriously, no one is around,” I say with a huff. I really wouldn’t be opposed to loving him beneath the stars. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.

He grunts in disapproval. “Angel, no one sees this ass but me, and what I plan to do this body will take all night. I can’t risk you getting exposure.”

I snort as he jogs the rest of the way up the path to the front door. “We’re in Washington in the middle of the summer. You’re such a worrier. Besides, who’s going to see my ass, the birds and fish?”

“Well, okay, you have a point. But we both know you can’t be quiet.” I drop my head to the back of his neck, my eyes flutter closed, this man is going to kill me. “Everyone in this town has heard your beautiful voice, Angel. But those moans of pleasure, the way you scream my name when you cum. Oh, those are only for me. So, no outside hanky-panky for you, miss.” If I could clench my thighs together, his voice has a low raspy seriousness I feel all the way down to my toes.

I chuckle but the sound is muffled as I nuzzle deeper into his neck inhaling the calming scent of home on his skin. Tears prick my eyes as memories flood my mind, hours of lovemaking, countless kisses, and piggyback rides, laughter and smiles, the good and the bad times, every one of them made us who we are. I gave it up. I gave this up. My arms are wrapped so tightly around his neck I’m probably choking him, but I can’t seem to let go. I hang on even after the door closes and Ridley finally stops moving. When I don’t make a move to slide down, he gives my thighs a gentle squeeze.

“Luna? Baby, this is the part where you slide down my body and let me see you.” I can hear the concern in his voice. I guess the chokehold is a big red flag that my mood has shifted. I want to scream at myself right now. I’ve killed the playful vibe. How can I go from thoroughly turned on to a sad clingy backpack in less than six seconds? I promise to tell him how I’m feeling. I don’t want to hold anything back. Letting things fester is what got us here in the first place.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I don’t deserve you, Ridley Masters,” I say into the back of his neck. Ridley scoffs and somehow maneuvers me without putting me down until I’m face to face with him. I release my grip on his neck only to wrap my legs around his waist as he walks me over the massive black leather sofa in the middle of the room next to the entryway. The lights are dim, giving the living room a soft glow, but I don’t look around, my eyes are only for him. Not much has changed in two years as I study Ridley’s handsome face. He’s ruggedly beautiful, gorgeous as ever, his eyes are bluer tonight with a bit of stubble gracing his sharp jaw line. There’s more muscle definition underneath his clothes, but other than that, he’s still the same man I fell for. He’s considerate, loyal, loving, and kind. He didn’t deserve what I did, and I know I apologized, but when I remember the way we were, guilt creeps up on me.

“I’m going to need you to explain where this is coming from, Angel,” he says, pulling my guitar off my back and propping it against the wall. He sits down, settling me on his lap as my dress rides up my thighs and his hands follow. He keeps them there, unmoving, his warm palms on my skin, and I just want to nestle into his chest and let him hold me for the rest of the night.

Talk to him, Brea, I scold myself. After a deep breath, I sit back on his thighs and open my mouth. “You know, for two years I built you up to be the bad guy,” I say, cringing at how pitiful it sounds out loud. Ridley opens his mouth to speak but I place a finger on his lips to stop him. “It was made easier when every picture of you in the media was with another woman. Or posts and blogs about you being the new fuckboy of hockey. It made it easy to overlook what I did to you. Instead of reaching out to the people who cared and loved me when we faced tragedy, I closed myself off. I let the news that I probably will never have children again be the nail in our coffin. Why would you want a faultygirlfriend? Let alone a wife who could possibly never give you the family you want?—"

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