Page 66 of With A Little Luck
It traps me to the wall with Ridge as my confines.
My head tilts to keep sight of his eyes. If I didn’t, I’d be staring at his pecs. The height difference really is staggering, more so than even with Trigg or Hart.
“We don’t have a lot of time before the baby comes, but I want to spend as much time as possible getting to know you before she gets here,” he says, studying my face. “No matter what, we’re going to be in each other’s lives for at least the next eighteen years.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I want that too. I mean, I want to spend time getting to know you.”
“Good.” It comes out low and rumbly.
A memory sparks.
Ridge purring as he held me in his arms just before we fell asleep that night. My head resting on his vibrating chest and his huge hand smoothing up and down my spine.
His expensive cologne scent was everywhere, while my nose enjoyed each one of the notes.
Leather.
Bergamot.
Pipe tobacco.
None of those scents are particularly pleasant on their own, but they blend together to create perfection.
A perfect smell that’s so distinctly Ridge.
“Did you hear me, sweetheart?” he asks.
I blink up at him and shake my head, trying to force away the memory.
It’s impossible.
My body seems to remember how warm his muscular chest was as I cuddled up to him. I never meant to fall asleep, but his comfort was too enticing.
A whimper escapes, and I fling myself forward. My nose lands against his chest, then I’m rubbing my face all over his T-shirt, desperate to soak up all his pheromones.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. It could be the mess of losing touch and popping up pregnant with his baby. Or it could be the fact my hands dig into his back like I’m terrified he might try to get away.
I’m sure he’s as confused as I am.
Ridge’s hand on my lower back tightens.
I keep wallowing around his chest like I have the right. “You smell so good.” I didn’t know I could moan an entire sentence, but I guess I do have that skill, after all. “I forgot how compatible we are. Why are you so sweaty? You should be sweatier. It would make you smell even better.”
Ridge snorts. “I thought I was sobering up, but maybe not. I’m not sweaty, sweetheart, but I also haven’t had a shower yet tonight.”
“You smell great.”
Ridge’s hand meets my chin, and he stretches back, pulling my nose from his T-shirt. “You smell pretty fucking fantastic to me too.”
I lick my lips.
He has a really nice beard.
And eyes.
His scent is kinda like a drug.
