Free Ridge by Em Petrova Page A

you.”
    If he hadn’t been bone-crushingly attracted to Kashley before, he was now. He took a step toward her. She didn’t move, eyes roaming over his face. That was another thing—he loved the way she looked at him as if he was the only man alive.
    Standing several inches from the wall, she was in the perfect spot for him to do what he’d been fantasizing about for the past hundred miles. In one step, he grabbed her, cradling her spine as he trapped her against the wall. She sucked in a sharp breath and moved to put her arms around him, but he caught her wrists and pinned them overhead.
    A tendril of hair was stuck on the corner of her mouth, and he nuzzled it free. She quivered in his hold.
    “Ridge, don’t play with me anymore. I need you to rip off my clothes and fuck me until I’m screaming.”
    Oh yeah, she was a pillow talker. That meant she wouldn’t lie there like some lifeless cold fish, but it meant he needed to take his time with her so he didn’t lose control and come in his pants like a teenager.
    Pressure mounted in his groin as he used his hips to pin her more fully against the wall. Then he found her lips again. The instant their mouths brushed, his hormones kicked into overdrive. She threw herself into kissing him back, tongues tangled and little whimpers escaping her.
    When he dragged his lips free, he leaned his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes up close. There were whole worlds in those blue-brown depths—why was he just now noticing this? He searched them for a long, heart-throbbing moment.
    Then he abruptly stepped back, releasing her. She started to melt down the wall and got her feet under her. “Take off your clothes.”
    Her lips fell open, giving him a tantalizing—and tormenting—view of her wet pink tongue. He clamped off his need and focused on hers. Yeah, he wanted to strip her naked and kiss every inch of her honeyed skin, but some darker need inside him drove him to gain the upper hand.
    She moved slowly, lifting one leg to reach her boot. She pulled it off easily and let it thump on the worn carpet. Followed by the other. She curled her socked toes, and he pulled his gaze from them to her fingers as she nimbly caught the hem of her top.
    With each inch of her midriff she bared, he felt as if he was revisiting an old flame. Now that he knew how that skin felt under his hands, his fingers ached to touch it again.
    But not yet.
    When the red bra that had started it all came into sight, his cock practically burst his zipper. He bit back a groan. “The jeans too,” he ordered.
    “I’m getting there, bossy.” Fuck, now her sass was coming out? She had no idea the fire she was playing with. Ridge wanted control—period. And she was going to be his good little slave.
    Hell, can I do this to Kashley?
    He didn’t know how to do it any other way. Now that they’d stepped onto this path together, he couldn’t think of having her in some boring vanilla, missionary way.
    Her eyes sparked, and he tipped his head to indicate her jeans. Her breasts jiggled with her quick inhalations as she unfastened her belt and fly. She wiggled the denim down to reveal an expanse of supple flesh and matching red panties. She didn’t seem like a woman who’d wear matching undergarments. She was so unpretentious and unconcerned with her looks.
    Or maybe she wasn’t—it was just effortless while other women fought to be attractive.
    She removed her jeans entirely and kicked them aside in a wad of fabric.
    “Get on the bed.” It was all he could do to give the command, because his body was screaming to tear off her bra and panties and dive in.
    She hesitated only a second before pulling away from the wall and sashaying over to the bed. He pivoted to follow her, gaze latched to every curve he’d lusted after for the entire trip.
    He swallowed hard as she climbed up the bed, slowly, as if playing the role.
    But that couldn’t be—could it?
    On her hands and knees, displaying the finest,