A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

  Over the crackling fire, I couldn’t hear him react, but I could feel his heated gaze right where I wanted it—on me as I pleasured myself, circling my clit until I was close enough to make myself come. I didn’t let up, refusing to feel shame. I let Ridge see that I’d become a desperate woman in need of a man’s touch, and he was the only one I would accept it from. My fingers had been all I’d had since prom night with Ridge. I’d gotten good at pretending that my self-induced orgasms were enough, and I wasn’t afraid to show him just how skilled I’d become.

  I slipped two fingers into my entrance, gasping at my wetness and groaning at the pleasure that would soon follow. Rolling my eyes to the back of my head, I pushed my fingers in deeper and started to work myself to the brink.

  My breaths came quickly as I pumped myself full, and I cried out at the image of Ridge on top of me that first time, injecting himself into me without realizing the long-term effects. Then I felt him—the real him. I was in the midst of coming down from my high when I opened my eyes to find him standing at the edge of the bed, a look of torment etched into every line of his face.

  I scrambled to sit up and reached for his pants, then I popped off the button and yanked down the zipper before I gazed up at his angst-ridden face. His fingers were in his hair, and his eyes were squeezed shut like he was doing everything to keep his erection at bay. But when I looked down at his pants, which I’d just slipped down his legs, I knew he had never even stood a chance against what hung thick and heavy between his legs. It seemed that every part of Ridge had grown over the past five years.

  I wrapped my hand around him, just as he’d shown me how to in the meadow of wildflowers. Reveling at the feel of him, I applied pressure then rolled the skin over his thick and veiny shaft. His lips parted, and he took a shaky breath that seemed to rack his entire body, and I warmed at knowing I was doing it right. My confidence grew quickly. I was the master of his pleasure and the conductor to his pending release, and I would do everything in my power to make sure he never forgot it.

  When I snuck a look at his face and his hooded gaze locked on mine, it was all the encouragement I needed to fuel that adventurous spark within me. I slid off the bed and sank to my knees, then I did something I’d never had the courage or time to do before. I wrapped my hand around his base, opened my mouth, and tasted him. He jerked in my hold, like the shock of my tongue was too much, but I didn’t let up. I ran circles around the tip while rolling his skin toward my mouth. With each stroke, I fit more of him into my mouth as my jaw stretched around him.

  Soon, I started to feel the impenetrable man before me quiver. His fingers slid through my hair as my lips firmed around him, then he pushed his hips toward me. I could feel the intensity of his need with each thrust. He continued to greedily rock into my mouth until he grunted out a release, filling me with every inch of warm stickiness, then he pulled himself away and fell onto the bed beside me.

  His breaths came hard, but I didn’t give him time to think before I stood. His eyelids flew open as I reached behind me to unclasp my bra, then I climbed on top of him, straddling his legs.

  Ridge moved his hands eagerly to my breasts and hungrily took in every inch of me with his eyes. He wasn’t the gentle Ridge I knew, the one who had treated our first time like we were both made of the most fragile glass. He was lion and bear, ferocious only if provoked, and I was doing all I could to stoke the flames that would ignite him.

  He was already growing hard again beneath me, and it wouldn’t be long until I felt him inside me once again. I shivered at the ache between my thighs, which pulsed with want and need, thanks to every memory I’d tortured myself with over the years.

  Leaning down, I brought my mouth to his ear and released a breath before sucking one in. I loved how he reacted beneath me, tensing and shuddering all at once. “I’m going to fuck you, Ridge Cross. No matter how hard you try to fight what we are, you’ll never get away from me. Not then, not now, not ever.”

  He blew out a breath as he grew even harder at my entrance. “I don’t have condoms. Even if I wanted you, I couldn’t have you.”

  I rubbed my center against his length and bit down on his ear lobe. “I’m on the pill, and I haven’t been with anyone since you.” I swallowed my nerves at what I would find out next. “Have you—?”

  “No.” Anger filled his tone as he growled out the word.

  Trying to hold back the sob of elation that wanted to climb my throat, I reached between our bodies and placed him at my entrance. As I moved my hand away, Ridge dug into my hips, and before I could ease onto him gently to reacquaint myself with that feeling once again, he slammed me down to him. The all-consuming sensation that ripped through me was such a surprise that stars burst behind my eyelids.

  It was deep-seated pleasure.

  It was overwhelming fullness and joy.

  It was aggression and love.

  It was a wildfire rising from the ashes.

  It was us.

  Once I started moving over him, the shock quickly dissolved. All I could feel was our connection, electric and sparking hot at the base. We didn’t talk or even kiss. Abiding by my word, I fucked him as recklessly and as wildly as our love we pretended didn’t exist. I fucked him mercilessly until he came inside me. And when he got hard again, I fucked him until we came together, just like we would always be.

  When I woke up the next morning to cold sheets beside me, I knew Ridge had left me once again. At least that time, I wasn’t surprised. And I was done chasing my past.

  Chapter 44

  Ridge

  I had watched Camila until she went back inside her bedroom, closing the doors behind her. A long while later, I stood and went back down the mountain, to the white ranch house Harold and I spent four years renovating before his tragic death.

  What used to be a small two-bedroom home that made up a dot on the one thousand acres of Cross land is now double the size. “Perfect for a family,” my father had told me near his end, nudging me toward a better life than the one that had been stripped from him.

  In the four years leading to my father’s untimely death, our relationship had strengthened. After Camila had left for California, I returned to the ranch to help Harold with all the new business. We had a new understanding that stemmed from heartbreak and the loyalty he had shown me when I needed it most. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a father. Then I lost him. Other than my losing Camila, that was the biggest tragedy of all.

  On that same dry summer night after my father’s death, I got drunk and hopped on Harold’s old tractor. All was fine until the target practice against the big rubber wheel ended in disaster. Sparks flew, and a row of corn stock caught fire. I got away to avoid danger, but the field wasn’t as lucky.

  That night, I managed to accidentally burn every last bit of the crop to the ground. Then I went to San Miguel County Jail for fourth-degree arson. It didn’t matter that it was an accidental fire. I was drunk and reckless, and it’s a miracle no one was injured because of my poor decisions.

  I follow the wrap-around porch to the front of my home and freeze when I see a figure sitting on the top step with her chin propped on her knees.

  “Raven?” I don’t know why I said her name like it was a question. I know it’s her, but I wasn’t expecting to see her tonight. “I thought you would still be at the party.”

  She’s even dressed for an evening at the Bells’, in a sparkly blue gown, and her blond hair is pinned in some fancy updo. A flashback to prom hits me. But when her head lifts and her sad eyes meet mine, I know this isn’t one of her casual visits. At least, her visits have been casual in my mind. I’ve recently learned that they mean something more to her.

  She lifts her quivering chin. “When are we going to tell people about us?”

  I squeeze my eyelids shut and swallow past the dread consuming my insides. Raven’s great, but when we started hanging out five years ago, it was just fun and casual. Both of us knew that was all it
could be. But I’ve noticed that she’s become needy in the past couple of months—calling me every day, stopping by unannounced if I don’t get to her calls or messages soon enough, and bringing me presents. It’s all sweet, but the timing of it all tells me that the change in her has everything to do with Camila returning home.

  Raven’s feelings for me finally became clear a few weeks ago when we’d both had too much to drink and she kissed me. I should have pulled away faster and reminded her that we were friends and only that. But I also owed Raven a debt of gratitude for the friendship she’d provided when I needed it most.

  “There’s nothing to tell, Raven. It was one kiss, and it should never have happened.”

  Moisture coats her eyes as she stares back at me, and her jaw falls open. “Really? After all the times we’ve hung out, your feelings for me haven’t changed?” She pauses, waiting for my reaction. When I don’t give her one, she stands, her face beet red with anger. “Not even a little?”

  A breath rushes out of me, and I take a step forward, desperately wanting to find a way to end the conversation before she gets more upset. “I’m sorry you expected more from me, but—”

  “Don’t.” Her voice is lower than I’ve ever heard it. Raven and I never get angry with each other. We never get into fights. That has been the entire point of not making our friendship anything more. It’s been easy and noncommittal, and it’s freed her from expecting something more from me that will never come. At least, that was my intention when this all began.

  She narrows her eyes to slits and balls her hands into tight fists beside her thighs. “This is because of Camila, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been distant ever since you found out she was coming back. That’s why your feelings have changed.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. How is it possible that two people see the world so differently? “My feelings haven’t changed. It’s always been this way, Raven. And if I’d known that you were hoping for more, then…” I try to find the right way to say what I need to convey. I don’t want to hurt her.

  Her chin quivers. “Then you would never have started hanging out with me. Is that what you were going to say?”

  I bow my head. My response is cowardly at best. Then I nod before lifting my gaze to meet hers. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” she shrieks. “That’s all I get from you? Don’t you think I deserve a little more than that? After all this time, I thought you would eventually come around. That you’d finally give up waiting for her and see what’s standing right in front of you.”

  “Stop making this about Camila.” Somehow, despite the anger forming in my chest, I manage to keep my voice calm and quiet. “This isn’t about her.”

  “Then why, Ridge? Why don’t you want to be with me? Don’t you want love and a big ole family to help you with this land?” She gestures to the ranch house like she’s flipping it off. “That’s what the remodel was for, wasn’t it? Harold wanted you to start a family, since he never got to. He’d be rolling around in his grave right now, if he could hear you.”

  “Don’t talk about my father like you knew what he wanted for me.”

  Her mouth hardens, like she’s stopping herself from saying something she’ll regret. “I thought it was you and me ’til the end.”

  The shock of her words swirls around my mind rapidly. “Until the end? C’mon, Raven, listen to yourself. What would your brother think about that?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what Trip thinks. I love you, Ridge. I’ve loved you ever since I laid eyes on you, and I never gave up hoping for something to come of us. Not even when you fell in love with Camila, and you two were keeping secrets from all of us. Not even when you got sent to jail.” She swiped her eyes. “I waited for you. Then I waited for you years after you came home while you kept everyone away.”

  “Well, you need to stop waiting for me. It’s just not that way between us, and I’m sorry.”

  “Stop telling me you’re sorry.” She picked up the bottom of her dress, stomped forward, and jabbed her pointer finger into my chest. “I hope you’re being honest when you tell me that you aren’t still pining over Camila. If you are, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  A small smile lifts her cheeks. “Things aren’t the way they were ten years ago. A lot has changed, and something tells me that when Camila figures it out, she won’t stick around for long.”

  Chapter 45

  Camila

  As a young child, I thought I lived in a castle. With a tall, ornate gated entrance and a long paved drive lined with trees that open to a large countryside villa, it is unquestionably one of the most beautiful homes in all of Telluride. Everywhere you look, you see intricate details—from the texture in the painted walls, the handcrafted accents, and even in some of the ceilings, reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel.

  Wonderment filled me to the brim whenever I dashed through the halls, my mama hot on my tail in a game of chase. She often ended up winded, and we would both fall onto the nearest surface and laugh.

  “Soon,” she said. “You’ll have a brother or sister to keep you company.” She always wore a hopeful smile when she said those words, and I never questioned them. A few times, I caught her rubbing her belly like there was a baby inside it. But that hopeful smile grew dimmer as the days went on, until eventually, she stopped making the promise entirely.

  I was fifteen when I finally felt brave enough to ask her why they’d never delivered on that promise. I still remember the darkness that blanketed my mama’s features and the chill that swept over us, even though it was the middle of summer. I shouldn’t have asked, but I couldn’t take the question back.

  “Your father and I would have liked that very much, mija. Sometimes, parents are only meant to have one child, sometimes two, sometimes three, or sometimes none. Your papa and I were blessed beyond our wildest dreams to have one.” She held my chin between the tips of her fingers, a sad smile lifting her cheeks. “That’s why God made you so strong and so brave. Your papa needs you, Camila. You and you alone will need to carry on the Bell family legacy.”

  My mama wasn’t normally so cryptic and dark, but I held tight to her words like they were her dying wish. I was so used to her passion, her constant movement, and her smile, which seemed to be a permanent fixture. Around the time of my question, I noticed things with her start to change. She kept to herself a lot more, no longer dabbling in the affairs of the business unless called upon by my papa. Meanwhile, Papa worked closer with Thomas, and Mama’s tasks were given to him.

  Now, it’s all coming full circle, and the feelings are surreal and overwhelming. As ready as I’ve always been for this opportunity to transition into more of a leadership role on the vineyard, standing here, getting ready to take the plunge, is a whole other thing.

  As I enter the casita and walk down the narrow hallway to papa’s old office for my first day of work, I have trouble believing this castle is all mine. It feels like just yesterday when I excitedly charged into this very room to tell him that I’d just spotted the first flowering bud of the season. But when I enter the office now, and my eyes register that I’m not alone, the reality of it all sinks in fast.

  Thomas Bradshaw is sitting on the couch, in the same spot where Papa used to sit, and Mama is sitting across from him. I freeze in the threshold, taking in their serious faces. Their chatter is low, and they’re leaning toward each other almost intimately, and a deep sense of betrayal swirls in my gut.

  At some point in the conversation, Thomas looks over at me and waves. “Hello again, Camila.” He stands and holds out a hand to squeeze mine, which I accept with an internal cringe. “You look lovely this morning.”

  My insides tense at the compliment.

  “Yes, you look beautiful, mija,” my mama adds.

  I’m wearing nothing special, just gray leggings, a bright-white sweater, and snow boots. “Thank you.” My smile is pinched. “Figured I’d take a st
roll through the vineyard later to reacquaint myself with the vines and say hello to the crew.”

  Thomas nods. “That sounds like a great plan. I can introduce you to some of the new staff I brought on board for the winter season.”

  He gestures for me to take a seat across from him, but I take my papa’s old seat instead. His shock registers quickly before his salesman charm returns, and he sits across from me.

  I quirk an eyebrow, confused, as mama gets up and sits next to me. “New staff?”

  He frowns. “That’s right. To make up for the loss of production after your father’s passing.”

  “But it’s winter.” I tilt my head, trying to understand. “The vines are dormant. Pruning season doesn’t require a lot of labor right now.”

  “Not a lot. But we need some,” Thomas says. “Pruning is an arduous job, I’m sure you remember. But I suppose I should have run the new staff budget by you first.”

  I open my mouth but snap it shut just as quickly, forcing my instinctual retort to the back of my mind. Thomas did the right thing, and if I had gotten to the vineyard three months earlier, then the decision would have been ours and not just his.

  “Right, well, thank you for taking the charge on that. I’m sure our buyers will be happy with the seamless transition.” Since we’re on the topic of operational changes, I suddenly have so many more questions. “Speaking of our buyers. Do you have a list of our clients—active, pending, and former?”

  Thomas squints, confusion painted all over his face. “I do. Of course I do. I am the head of Business Development.”

  I give him my best syrupy smile. “You’re the head of a lot of things, aren’t you, Thomas?”

  He chuckles, and I’m not clueless to the worried glances Mama is throwing my way.