A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

  She smiles, pleased with herself, as she dives in for more food. Bob Seger’s Greatest Hits spins on the vintage record player in the living room as we eat and drink our bourbon. We’ve eased away from serious conversation and moved on to lighter topics, like my plans for opening the resort and Camila’s time in Italy. I love hearing about her adventures, and I only wish that her next one could be with me.

  By the end of dinner, our plates are clear, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are wide and bright, just like when she would run through the cornfield. Camila’s the beautiful and playful girl I started loving without even realizing when or how. She’s the gorgeous woman who still holds my heart.

  When “Old Time Rock & Roll” starts to play, a slow smile spreads across her face. She jumps up and walks around to my side of the table. “We can clean this later. Come with me.” She holds out a hand.

  Maybe it’s the bourbon, or perhaps it’s the drunk giggle that slips past Camila’s lips, but I can almost pretend that nothing has changed between us as I wrap my hand around hers and let her yank me to my feet.

  She tugs me into the living room and starts moving her body to the beat. Her arms swing above her head as she thrashes, and her hair whips around her shoulders as she twirls. No way will I move like that, but I’m enjoying the show. Every now and then, she grabs my hands and tries to get me to dance with her, and though I wish I looked as good as she does doing it, I manage only a few shakes of my hips before the song transitions to a slow one.

  The piano melody to “We’ve Got Tonight” is such a drastic change from the fast song before it, causing Camila to stop dancing completely. After a moment of awkwardness, she lets out an airy laugh and releases my hands. “Well, that’s a mood buster. I’ll change the song.”

  She starts to move past me toward the record player when something strong and instinctual—something that feels like fate—gives me a hard punch in the chest. I grab her hand and pull her back to me. Surprised, she stumbles a little, and her palms break her fall on my chest. When she recovers, she meets my gaze, and I don’t try to interpret it. Instead, I move her arms around my neck, wrap mine around her waist, and start to move.

  Her eyes narrow, but they have a glimmer in them. “Oh, so now you want to dance.”

  I cringe a little. “I don’t think you can call this dancing. And to be fair, I don’t think you can call what you were doing dancing either.”

  Not even her harsh glare can hide the amusement she finds at my joke. She purses her lips to hold back her laugh then swats at my chest before moving her hand back around my neck. “At least I was having fun.”

  “Oh, I was having fun watching you. Besides, you didn’t seem to have a problem with my moves at prom.”

  Her cheeks redden, and when my gaze slips down to her neck, I find that part of her skin is changing color too. She’s flushed all over, and I can’t help but get excited that I’m doing that to her.

  “Yeah, well, you also bribed me with a dozen pink roses, a tent, and a pretty necklace, so we probably shouldn’t compare experiences.”

  At the mention of her necklace, my gaze locks on her throat, even though I already know it isn’t there. When she picked me up from the jail, she wasn’t wearing it then either. The disappointment weighed heavily, and as much as I want to ask her where it is, I choose not to go there. I had no right to question it back then, and I still don’t. “Just give me a few minutes, and I can rectify all that.”

  She smiles gently back at me, and the mood shifts from playful to serious. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  My heart pounds so hard that I can feel it between my ears. I cup her neck while slowly moving a finger across her cheek, and I glance at her lips before locking on her eyes. “I would do anything for you, Camila. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

  She blinks, as if she can’t believe me. I drop my forehead to hers, and when her eyelids flutter closed as a shaky breath rushes past her lips, I know she feels the same.

  “How does this feel so normal?” Her words are just a whisper. “I close my eyes, and it’s like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “What’s to understand? Our roots are deep, just like your vines, which adapt to every season. No matter the harsh weather, there’s always new growth.”

  “Are you comparing our relationship to the life of a grape?”

  The teasing in her voice makes me chuckle. “No. I’m comparing us to a whole damn vineyard. We’re the root.” I lean in, brush her lips with mine, and whisper, “You and me, Wild One.”

  A shiver racks her entire body, and I tighten my hold around her, as if it could help. The way she’s engulfed in my arms brings me the most comfort I’ve felt in years. Camila’s right. This feels so normal and natural, like we were always meant to fit.

  I brush my lips against hers again, almost expecting her to pull away and tell me it’s too soon or too late. Either one of those responses would be understandable. But when her fingernails dig into my back, I don’t ignore the message. I mold my mouth to hers and kiss her hard.

  Her firm lips respond to mine immediately, and she steals every bit of my air as she breathes me in. I explore the taste and feel of her like it’s the very first time. In a way, that’s exactly what this is. It’s been ten years since our lips last touched, and though I’ve dreamed about it, nothing could have prepared me for the real feeling of our mouths moving as one, our breaths tangling with heat and desire, or our hands wandering as our mouths keep a slow and steady pace. The kiss is so consuming and powerful that I feel an awakening within me. And when she parts my mouth with hers and sweeps her tongue over mine, a growl rumbles through me.

  I lift her by the backs of her thighs, and she eagerly wraps her legs around me then slips her fingers through my hair, gripping and tugging, and intensifying our lip-lock.

  Years of pent-up feelings, secret fantasies, and unbridled desire sweep through me. Knowing what I lost and feeling the impossibility of never having it again has been worse than sitting in a jail cell for a year. That feeling of loss has turned me into a hungry, desperate man that only Camila has a chance of healing.

  I walk the short distance to the couch and sit with her still wrapped around my waist. Her knees dig into the cushions on either side of me, and my hands begin to roam up her legs and under her dress, until I grip her ass with both hands.

  Camila fits well over me, and I remember the feel of being inside her the last time we were together like this. Well, that time, she was in total control, and I was just along for the ride. And what a beautiful ride it was. But I want her beneath me this time. I want her so badly that I start to move her against me, pushing and pulling so that she grinds on my lap. Our mouths go slack the more we work ourselves into a frenzy.

  I glide my hands up her arms and over her shoulders and find the thin straps of her dress to slip them down. Then I kiss her cheek, her ear, her neck, and her shoulder and stop at her chest, which heaves above the ribbed fabric of her dress. I slip a finger under the fabric and start to pull it back, but I pause to look up and ask for silent permission. Her heated stare is all the confirmation I need.

  Looking down again, I pull the fabric down until it rests beneath her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, so her hard nipples are the first things I see. They’re dark brown and firmly pointed back at me, and I don’t waste a second. Leaning down, I swipe one with my tongue then close my mouth around it and suck. She gasps and squirms in response, only intensifying my hunger. My mouth is unrelenting as I palm one beautiful breast, then I transfer my mouth to the other.

  “Ridge,” she moans while trying to catch her breath. “Make love to me.”

  The final word is barely out of her mouth when I lift her from the couch, then I carry her down the hall to my bedroom, kissing her the whole way. She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.

  I breeze through the open double
door that leads to my room without bothering to flip on the light then set her on her feet and yank her dress to the floor. With the faint light streaming into the room from the hallway, I can make out her strong, curvy lines, which appear soft in all the right places. She’s naked, save for the scrap of black fabric of her panties. “You are insanely beautiful, Wild One.” I gawk as desire tornadoes through me.

  Her eyes flick over me before she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I want to see you too.”

  I lift my shirt over my head and unbutton my jeans to slide them down my legs, never once taking my eyes off Camila. Her eyes roam, and her mouth parts when her gaze locks on my erection fighting to come out of my briefs. Camila’s seen me before and had me in her mouth. She’s sucked my desire clean and swallowed me whole. Now, I’m going to return the favor.

  As I lean down, her eyes go wide as she takes in my expression, and she inches backward on my bed. If I look anything like the beast of a man I feel like inside, then she has every right to be cautious. I kneel above her and grab her panties. With one yank, I rip them down her legs, then I toss them to the side before spreading her knees and getting a good look at her. She’s so damn perfect, the way she opens up to me.

  With a quick breath out, I lie on my stomach so that my ears are between her thighs and my mouth hovers over her pussy. I inhale her sweet scent like she’s wine fresh out of the bottle. Then I slide my hands around her legs to grip her breasts and take my first long, slow lick.

  She quivers, the skin over her abs tightening as I torture her with my tongue. I’ve barely even started, and she’s already gripping my hair in a silent plea to release her. But I’m in no hurry, and I have too many years to make up for.

  My tongue has a mind of its own as it plays with her clit in perfect time with the way her hips start to move against my face. I slip one of my hands from her breast to just above her slit while I place my other hand under her thigh. I work her skin toward my mouth while I deepen each swipe of my tongue, causing her to jerk hard from the pressure.

  When I sense her climax building, I lock my lips around her clit and suck it into my mouth. She screams while she tugs at my hair, and I growl against her squirming body. I walk my fingers from her thigh to her opening, push them into her, and work them deeper and deeper until she moans her release and drips, wet and hot, around my fingers.

  I breathe hard as I push myself back off the bed and onto my feet. My briefs are gone in less than a second, and I crawl back between her legs. I lean down and devour her mouth while fitting myself against her entrance. Her hands snake around to my ass as she lifts her hips, hinting for me to enter her. But I never forgot the way I pushed into her the last time and how greedy and aggressive I was with my first thrust.

  My desperation to be inside her was almost as strong then as it is now. But this time, I have control, and I want to live in the moment as I feel her stretch around me. I want to hear each and every moan as it escapes those beautiful lips, and I want to reach deeper into her than I’ve ever reached before. I want to reach her heart and soul at the point of no return. This time, I want to stay there forever.

  Chapter 53

  Camila

  I’m still coming down from my climax when Ridge starts to enter me. My breathing is erratic, my body feels limp and slightly out of sorts, my head is filled with white puffy clouds, and stars won’t stop shooting behind my eyes. After the way he just consumed me, hot and vicious, like I’m his last meal, desire rages on in my core.

  He’s so thick as he moves into me, but my body adapts just like before, molding to him and engulfing him in a tight hug that ignites my center. He rocks inside of me, deepening his thrusts while kissing my mouth, my neck, and my breasts. Spreading my knees wider, I squeeze his ass and lift my hips to bring him closer and closer until his slow and steady thrusts hit the deepest part of me.

  I move my hands to his face and bring his mouth to mine. But as soon as my lips touch his, I gasp at the first sign of another orgasm.

  He quickens his pace, and I can feel his body tensing too. Our eyes connect as he drives into me, and the wood headboard crashes into the wall as it moves. He doesn’t let up until I scream his name and God knows what else as my orgasm blasts through me and carries me into a sweet, starry abyss.

  I awake to the bright morning sun shining through the large bedroom window. Ridge’s strong arms are wrapped around me beneath a white down comforter. I’ve never felt more relaxed in my life. A smile lifts my cheeks as I feel him stir behind me. He groans and pushes his naked body against me. His dick is already hardening between my ass cheeks as he grips my breasts.

  “Good morning,” I tease as his mouth begins to trail sweet kisses down my back.

  “Yes, it is.” His gravelly voice is thick with sleep as his words float down my back, causing me to giggle.

  Suddenly he removes his mouth, and I’m hit with a breeze when he sweeps off the covers. Then he flips me over, crawls above me with a devilish grin, and pins my wrists to the mattress.

  “I love your giggle.” A smile slowly spreads on his face. He dips his head and kisses my neck, causing me to shiver. “I love this spot right here too.” He moves down to my breasts and sucks each one into his mouth. “And these,” he murmurs against my skin. Then he moves to my belly, sending my pulse soaring through my veins. “And this.”

  His hands are on my hips when he starts to move down my body again, but this time, he freezes. I lift my head, sensing something is wrong, and my heart immediately plunges into the pit of my stomach. His eyes are on my hip and the scar that will forever be a haunting reminder of that awful night that will never leave me. The hunter lives on in the darkest crevices of my mind, threatening to leap out when I least expect it. The scar is a trigger—whenever it aches, whenever I catch an accidental glimpse of it in the mirror, or whenever my fingers graze it as I’m dressing.

  My throat clogs as I watch his face transition from curiosity, to confusion, then to realization as he starts to answer his own question. The scar isn’t something a passerby would think was normal. It still tingles when fear spikes in my chest, and it makes me hesitate before putting on a bikini and saying, “To hell with it.” It attracts stares and makes people wonder and turn away in disgust. Ridge won’t do that, though. I wore a nude bandage at the dimly lit cabin five years ago when I undressed in front of him. He didn’t even notice it then.

  Suddenly, the light streaming in feels too bright. I reach for the sheet and pull it over my body, blocking my scar from Ridge’s probing eyes. Even if he won’t judge me for it, I’m aware of how grotesque the jagged and scarred tissue appears.

  His gaze flashes to mine. “Where did you get that, Camila?”

  Shying away from the conversation would be pointless. We’ve talked about that night only once, but it was five years ago, and he was too swept up in his own misery to ask any questions. He’d believed the lie that Harold told him. It had swept through the town in gossip channels until everyone knew, but they knew wrong.

  “That night,” I say quietly. “In the woods.”

  Ridge’s eyebrows draw together. “Dave Lachey did that? Harold said you were fine. I didn’t—” He looks lost and confused by the realization that Harold’s version of what happened that night is grossly different from actual events.

  A second later, I tell him everything I remember, from my search for the necklace to ending up back at the mine, where I spotted the hunter and his arrow aimed right for me. I recall each arrow that whipped by my head as I weaved through trees and brush until finally getting to the bridge.

  “When I didn’t see you there, I turned toward the cornfields, hoping you were on your way. And that’s when he got me. It sliced open my side, then I tripped over a log and smashed my head on the ground. I don’t know what happened after that. When I came to, Gus was with me, and Harold was standing over Dave’s dead body with his shotgun.”

  I was shaking by the time I finished telling him my story.


  Ridge had moved to lie beside me while I gave him the play-by-play, his expression only becoming more shocked and disgusted as my story went on. “But Harold said Dave was out hunting and mistook you for an animal.”

  I nod as the anger I’ve kept locked away for over a decade spreads through me again like wildfire. “Sounds about right. Everyone thought I was just confused. They thought I hit my head too hard and wasn’t thinking straight and that Dave Lachey was nothing but a poacher, which he was. But he was also a psychopath who was trying to murder me.”

  “Why would he come after you like that? I don’t understand.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. The weirdest part of it all was how he let me run right by him at first without trying to take a shot. It was like he wanted to chase me. Like he was in it for the hunt.”

  Ridge hugs me tight. “That’s exactly how it sounds. Jason always said his brother was obsessive about hunting, but I got the impression he was a nice guy. I never asked too many questions. It didn’t feel like my business at the time.” His soft eyes rest on mine. “I’m sorry, Camila.”

  I don’t know why I’m surprised that he believes me, but my throat thickens with emotion even more as I stare back into his eyes. “You’re the first person who hasn’t looked at me like I’m a crazy person.”

  “Why would you make it up? It’s possible they dropped it since they couldn’t prove what you were saying and he was already dead.”

  “That’s exactly why the case was closed so abruptly, but it never sat right with me. Dave was a known poacher who took the hunt too far that night. Case closed. What if he was out to get me that night? What if I wasn’t the only one he tried to hurt?”

  Ridge shudders. “That’s dark.”

  “Trust me. I’ve considered a lot of wild scenarios over the years. Maybe if they had just investigated my story a little, then I wouldn’t be so obsessed with wanting to understand all the whys and hows. I don’t know. But…”