by Hilary Rose
“How I wish I could see you without limitations,” he whispered, finding the zipper of her skirt and tugging it downward, allowing him to reach inside her lacy panties, slip his graceful fingers into her moist heat and stroke her there.
“You more than see me,” she gasped as she arched into him, her brain scrambled with the electric currents convulsing through her body. She wriggled out of her skirt and panties as quickly as she could, so desperate was she to shed every barrier between them. “You see inside me. I want to see inside you too.”
Needing no further encouragement, Ridge yanked off his T-shirt and unzipped his jeans, then stood for just a moment so he could free himself of all his clothes, and then brought his nakedness, his hardness and his hungry mouth down on her.
“Caro,” he murmured, the word shooting vibrations through both of them. “Caro. I knew it would be like this … So good, so right …”
Caroline’s insides turned to mush as he whispered to her, as he encouraged her, as he punctuated his words with penetrating kisses. She wrapped her quivering thighs around his waist, grabbed his back, splaying her fingers against his skin and gasping as he thrust himself into her, then drew out, then in again and out. He rotated his tight, muscular hips not with ferocity but rather with a craving, a yearning, establishing a rhythm that synced blissfully with hers.
“So good, so right,” she repeated, clutching his perfectly chiseled buttocks and urging him deeper and deeper into her, so deep he filled her completely and caused her to rear up and meet his face, look him straight in his wounded eyes. “Never expected to feel like this.”
He thrust inside her again, his body slick with the commingling of her arousal and his. “I want us to feel it together, go there together. Hang on, Caro.” He moved in and out as she clung to his waist, his back, his face, any place she could touch.
“Don’t stop,” she moaned, the muscles inside her contracting, the wave beginning to rise up and swallow her as he loomed over her, each thrust sweeping the wave closer to the shore. “I’m … Oh God, Ridge.”
The wave crested with his final thrust and he cried out along with her, “Yes … Yes … Caro …” He shuddered, his body smashing into hers one more time, their every fiber and membrane pulsating with their climax.
Her eyelids fluttered as he rolled off her slowly and then cradled her in his arms. “Did that just happen?” she said, her body still palpitating with the force of their love.
“Yeah, and it needs to happen again.” He kissed her. “Sooner rather than later.”
“Sooner rather than later,” she repeated with a contented sigh. “After I catch my breath and—”
A knocking at the front door, a pounding, as with a fist, interrupted her. Thump! Thump! Thump!
“Are you kidding me?” said Ridge.
“At least whoever it is waited until the ‘Oh Gods’ were over,” said Caroline, and they both laughed.
But the pounding started again and they untangled from each other, startled and exasperated by the abrupt intrusion.
Caroline sighed, remembering when her cell phone rang while they’d kissed in the limo. “Foiled again.”
“Can’t imagine who’d be coming over at this time of night,” Ridge grumbled, begrudgingly putting his glasses back on, along with his clothes, “and why they aren’t using the doorbell.”
“Could it be RJ?”
“He’s got a key. But I guess it could be Brooke with something important about RJ—or something she thinks is important. In any case, to be continued.” He leaned down and kissed Caroline on the mouth, a hot soulful kiss meant to endure long after his lips left hers. And then he stood back up and walked toward the bedroom door.
“Wait. I’m not letting you go alone,” said Caroline, hurrying into her own clothes so she was presentable. Then she hooked her arm through his and together they descended the stairs, the persistent pounding on the door reverberating throughout the house.
“Hold on. I’m coming,” Ridge muttered as they descended the staircase.
When they reached the foyer, it was Caroline who spotted the figure in the window panels that framed the front door—not Brooke at all but a male figure … a figure that was shifting from one foot to the other as if impatient to be granted entry to the house … a figure she recognized instantly.
Chapter Thirteen
“Rick, what a surprise,” Caroline said, taking a quick mental inventory of her appearance. Was her blouse unbuttoned? Her skirt unzipped? Her lipstick smeared? She couldn’t very well dash into the powder room to check.
“To what do I owe this visit?” Ridge said, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Business, emergency or social call?”
Rick strutted past Ridge and Caroline into the living room, an oddly self-satisfied smirk on his face, and planted himself in the middle of the room, his arms folded across his chest, defiant. “Both,” he said. “I thought I’d drop in to see how Project Ridge is coming along.”
“No idea what you’re talking about, Ricky, and don’t really care,” said Ridge. “It’s late. Big fundraiser coming up in a couple of days, in case you haven’t been paying attention. Just say whatever it is that’s got you so unhinged and go home.”
“Is that what you want me to do, Caroline?” Rick glared at her as if accusing her of something. “Should I tell him what you and my father have been up to? Or would that put a monkey wrench in the Forrester family harmony you were so determined to stage for the fundraiser?”
Ridge turned to Caroline. “What’s his problem this time? Or is it just the usual Daddy-loves-me-more hostility?”
“Rick,” said Caroline, trying to stay calm but growing bored with his antics. “I’m not ‘up to’ anything.” He could be a hothead, especially when it involved Ridge—the morning he’d answered her cell phone in her hotel suite while she was in the shower was recent evidence of that. But whatever current grudge brought him to the house that night was a mystery.
He laughed mirthlessly. “You tell me. You’ve been playing Ridge for weeks now. Have you gotten him into bed yet? Is that what I walked in on? And was it worth it, just to keep the couture buyers happy and rack up more orders for Forrester Creations? Are you that ambitious? Would you sink that low?”
“You’re drunk,” Caroline snapped, smelling alcohol on his breath. “But that’s no excuse for talking to me like that.” She had to restrain herself from whipping her hand across his face for what he was implying. How dare he cast her as the promiscuous one after what he’d done with Maya. “You’re upset that I’m here with Ridge instead of out with you. But I’ve told you more than once that we work at his house sometimes. We accomplish a lot when there are no interruptions.”
“What’s this about the buyers? If this is about the fundraiser, I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. I’m not interested in last-minutes glitches, not after all the months of planning and hard work.”
“Hey, don’t worry about a thing,” said Rick. “Your little friend here has you covered. Your dresses will be fine and all the ladies will write big checks to honor Stephanie’s memory.”
“Then what is it?” Ridge demanded, his voice rising.
“This.” Rick reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small black device and waved it in the air. “It’s all right here.”
Ridge turned to Caroline again, exasperated. She knew he couldn’t see the device clearly enough to make out what it could be.
“It’s one of those digital recorders,” she said with a shrug, in the dark just as Ridge was.
“It’s Pam’s,” said Rick. “She left it at Dad’s this morning. She was recording his speech for the fundraiser and must have forgotten it when Caroline showed up. My former wife makes a lot of house calls, it seems. She was Dad’s next meeting.”
“So what?” Ridge challenged.
“Eric wanted a status update on the fashion show,” Caroline explained to him. “I was happy to give him one.”
“Makes sense,” said Rid
ge. “What the hell does a tape recorder have to do with me or Caroline, Rick? Just go home and sleep it off, would you, please?”
Rick patted the recorder as if it were an unearthed treasure chest that contained the clue to some long-hidden truth. “Dad found this under the couch not long after Caroline left. I stopped by a little later and he asked me to return it to Pam at the office tomorrow morning. I decided to play it back first, so I could hear what he plans to say at the shindig, and, man, did I get an earful. Hot stuff on that recorder.”
“For the love of God,” Ridge said wearily. “Spit it out already.”
“Pam must have forgotten to hit stop,” said Rick. “She can be a little scatterbrained, your aunt Pam. So her recorder kept recording even after she left—until the battery ran out, that is. Anyway, it recorded Dad’s speech, but it also recorded something more, which turned out to be a really juicy conversation between Dad and Caroline. I decided to do you a favor, Ridge, and let you listen to it. It’s muffled but plenty audible.”
Caroline felt her stomach lurch. What, specifically, had she and Eric been discussing that Rick would qualify as “juicy?” He was clearly hoping to use the recorder to incriminate her or to embarrass Ridge or to pay them both back for some perceived slight, but how?
“May I do the honors?” Rick asked, but the question was rhetorical. He had every intention of pressing play himself. “Fasten your seatbelts, everybody.”
Caroline swallowed hard as she prepared herself for Rick’s stunt, whatever it might be, even as she racked her brain, trying to anticipate what mischief, what hurt, he was about to inflict. She’d loved him once, loved him unconditionally, in spite of his jealousies and insecurities. But now she feared that he was capable of acting in a way that would destroy any remaining affection she had for him—and, worse, that he was about to burst the bubble of perfect happiness she’d shared with Ridge only minutes before.
“Tell me. How are you?”
“Tired but invigorated too. I’ve loved every minute of the work here, Eric. Designing for the Forrester Creations couture line has been a privilege, and getting to show it off at the fundraiser will be that much more of a thrill.”
“Then you were the right person for the job, and I’m so glad you agreed to take it.”
It was Eric’s voice. Caroline’s too. She remembered he’d asked her about the fashion show, about whether they were on track. A harmless enough conversation, she thought with relief.
“Now, about your other job, your less public one. My spies over there tell me my oldest son has been much more involved in Forrester Creations’ business since you and I launched Project Ridge. From what I hear, he’s not sitting alone in his office brooding, and it’s all because of you and your nimble way of handling any assignment thrown at you. I’d asked you to come up with an idea for bringing back Ridge’s spirit, his appetite for life, for the sake of the fundraiser and to silence all those buyers who’ve been skittish about the company’s stability, and apparently you managed to do just that. Well done, Caroline.”
Ridge looked stung by his father’s words, his back stiffening even as his shoulders sagged. “So there really is a ‘Project Ridge?’” he asked her.
“It was just a phrase Eric used, an innocent label for my collaboration with you on the designs,” she said offhandedly, hoping to dispel any notion Ridge might have that she and Eric were plotting against him. They were only trying to help him by distracting him from his dark thoughts. At least she was. “You know how frustrated your father has been, not being able to pitch in at the company, not being around to design with you. He’s having a tough time letting go, that’s all.”
“And since when have the buyers been skittish about Forrester Creations?” he said defensively. “Have they been telling Dad they’ve lost faith in me? Have they been whispering in his ear about the CEO who was brilliant when he was the hero who rescued his son in the fire but isn’t so brilliant when he can’t read the numbers on profit and loss reports?”
“Ridge, I have no idea about the buyers or what they think,” said Caroline. “I have no idea who Eric talks to or why, either.”
“Obviously he talks to you,” Ridge growled. “What was that about bringing back ‘my appetite for life?’”
“Allow the recorder to answer that,” said a grinning Rick, deriving satisfaction from the increasing tension in the room.
“Truthfully, Eric, all I did was ask Ridge to help me expand my horizons. It sounds silly, I know, but he told me I should explore interests outside of the fashion industry, ‘get out of the bubble,’ as he calls it. So I came up with things I thought would be broadening for me—and not coincidentally appealing to him—and coaxed him into coming along for the ride. The idea was to drag him out of the house, pull him out of his sense of hopelessness, inspire him to embrace life again, and it worked. We went to a hockey game, the symphony, East LA for a sampling from all the food trucks … There were some rocky moments, but overall he really seemed to enjoy it.”
Caroline couldn’t see Ridge’s eyes behind the sunglasses, but she couldn’t miss the expression on his face. His mouth, the same mouth that had caressed her so hungrily, formed a tight, straight line and his chin, the same chin she’d had such a challenge shaving because of his dimple, jutted out, his jaw set. “You told my father about all that?” he said to her, his tone both disbelieving and indignant. “I thought what we did was personal, something just between you and me. And yet you’re discussing me with him, as if I were some sort of rat in a lab experiment—sorry, a rat in a lab project. And then there’s the fact that you chose outings that were my interests, not yours. Hockey? Classical music? Tacos? You couldn’t care less about any of that.” He moved to a chair and sank down in it, deflated. “Quite a trap you set, Caroline, and I stumbled right into it. But then what did you expect from a blind man? That’s what you thought, right?”
“It wasn’t a trap at all,” she protested. “I did want to learn about sports and classical music and ethnic foods, and you were the perfect person to mentor me. Oh, Ridge. Eric was just worried about you. He’s your father and he loves you, and he didn’t know how to talk to you; you weren’t very approachable, if you remember. When I got to LA and saw how you were struggling, I was only too glad to do whatever he asked if it would help you and Forrester Creations. Yes, I wanted to lift your spirits, and in doing so, you lifted mine when you agreed to go with me on these outings. I wasn’t feeling very confident when I came back here and I have Rick to thank for that”—she gave him a sarcastic salute—“but you made me feel useful again, as if I could do anything.”
“And you did,” Ridge said scornfully. “Anything and everything my father asked you to—behind my back. You were very useful.”
“Hang on, you two,” said Rick, nodding at the recorder, which he had put on pause so Caroline and Ridge could argue. “You’re missing the best part.” He hit play.
“Enjoy it? If I know my son at all, I bet he fell head over heels in love with you during all this expanding of your horizons.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Why wouldn’t he fall for you? Rick did. He told me he gave you an engagement ring, by the way.”
“Yes, at Brooke’s the other night, a beautiful ring. To say I was surprised is putting it mildly. He and I have mended fences over the past few weeks and I’m grateful for that, but it’s just not going to happen for us this time. Too much baggage between us, I guess. I was planning to make it clear to him in case there was any misunderstanding—after the fundraiser. I don’t want you to worry about the event for Stephanie, Eric. It’ll be a display of Forrester family harmony. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll have a heart-to-heart talk with Rick after it’s over and that’ll be that. I’m—”
“Aw, sorry, folks,” said Rick after the recorder shut off abruptly. “The battery must have run out at that point, so we won’t get to hear the rest. But you guys probably have enough to chew on.”
As Rick
tucked the recorder back in his jacket pocket, Ridge barked at him to get out and Caroline could only nod her assent. She couldn’t wait to have Ridge to herself, to sit down with him and explain what came after the recorder stopped, when she’d poured out her heart to Eric about how she’d fallen in love with him. He needed to hear that part, needed to know with absolute certainty that what had happened upstairs between them, their lovemaking, their passion, their outpouring of feelings for each other, weren’t the result of any premeditated plan or scheme or trap.
“Bottom line is I saved you the trouble of having that ‘heart-to-heart’ talk with me, Caroline,” said Rick as he headed to the front door. “I got the message loud and clear. No repeat walk down the aisle for us? Understood. I won’t pretend I’m not pissed off and disappointed, but it does soften the blow to know you won’t be hooking up with this guy.” He sneered at Ridge. “Not anymore. ’Night, you two.”
There was an eerie silence in the house after Rick’s car noisily peeled out of the driveway. Caroline started to speak, but Ridge’s body language inhibited her. He’d gotten up, walked slowly out of the living room into the library and positioned himself behind his desk, his fort. He sat there motionless, in total darkness save for the light of the nearly full moon, while she stood there watching him, aching for him.
Eventually, she rallied herself, pulled up a chair and sat beside him. She was weak from all the drama, her legs as wobbly, but she was dying to touch him, to stroke his cheek at least, to reestablish their connection, soothe his hurt feelings, but she sensed that any attempt at physical contact would be extremely unwelcome. Still, it was time to plunge in, make him understand. She cleared her throat.