Page 172 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
No matter how many times I kiss her, touch her, bury myself inside her, it’s never enough. I always want more. And I know I always will.
She is my greatest weakness. The only woman who can bring me to my knees. And I will fight for her until the end of time.
Because she is mine, and I am hers.
And we are everything.
EPILOGUE
Evie
SEVEN YEARS LATER
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I hit snooze and bury my face in the pillow. A heavy arm wraps around my waist, and I’m pulled into the curve of a hard body.
“Morning, Cherry.” His soft breath ghosts over the shell of my ear, and even in my half-asleep state, it sends delicious little tingles down my spine.
My man still does it for me.
I mumble something incoherent as his lips coast down the side of my neck and his hand slides under my tank top. He flattens his palm and splays it across my bare stomach, his rough, calloused hand warm against my skin.
I grind my ass against his erection, and he growls low in my ear. “Still such a tease.”
“You love it.”
“Mmm.” His hand moves lower, skimming the waistband of my sleep shorts and dipping inside.
A soft sigh escapes my lips, and heat pools in my belly. It’s crazy how Ridge still gives me butterflies, and even now, after all these years, I still want him all the time.
The pads of his fingers slide through my folds, and my breath hitches when he circles my clit, teasing me. My back arches against his chest, and I double down on the ass grinding as he rubs my clit and presses his lips to the curve of my shoulder.
He flips me onto my back and hovers over me, a smile playing on his lips. I reach up and push the hair off his face. It’s long again, and I told him he’s not allowed to cut it.
He dips down for a kiss. “Missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Missed you more.” My fingers dig into his hair, and I pull him down on top of me.
Our lips collide just as there’s a crash in the hallway, followed by a loud yelp.
The door flies open and bangs against the wall. I look over as Eli races into the room, followed by Asher, who has a football tucked under his arm. They’re both wearing Dallas Cowboys pajamas, and the football Asher’s carrying bears the signatures of their favorite players, including their daddy.
To Patrick’s delight, Ridge was transferred to Dallas for the final three seasons of his football career.
Ridge groans as I push him away and sit up, straightening my tank top so the boys don’t get an eyeful of my boobs.
“Dad’s home!” Eli yells before he dives onto the bed, and Asher follows.
“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Peyton and Finlay chant as they run into the room and dive onto the bed, smothering Ridge with hugs and kisses.
The way they’re acting, you would think he’d been gone years instead of only four days. But since Ridge retired from football last year, they’re used to having him home all the time.
I glare at my kids, the little ingrates. I pushed all four of them out of my body and breastfed them for months. Where’s the gratitude? As soon as their daddy shows up, I’m persona non grata. “What am I? Chopped liver?” I mutter.
Ridge laughs. “Show your mom some love. There’s enough to go around.”
No kidding. With four kids under the age of six, there’s plenty of everything to go around. Sleepless nights, sticky fingerprints, a mountain of laundry, pee on the toilet seats, and Legos on the floor, waiting to attack the soles of my bare feet. Those suckers hurt.
