Seth, Tyler, Mark, and Kent.” Ridge points to each guy as he says their name.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say politely, barely glancing at each of them, still embarrassed by their attention.
“So, Missy, you live around here?” the one on my right asks—Kent . . . I think.
“No, I’m just passing through. How about the five of you? Locals?” I take a sip of the fresh drink that was just set on the table in front of me.
“No,” Ridge says, throwing his arm over the back of my chair. “We’re in town for a job.”
I take note of the Beckett Construction T-shirts they all seem to be wearing. “Construction,” I say like an idiot. These men are sexy and intimidating.
“Yep.” Ridge tips his beer back, and I get lost watching his throat as he swallows. Like I said, he’s sexy.
“We grew up together,” one of the guys says.
I can’t remember what Ridge said his name was. Mark, maybe?
“So, just living it up after a long work week?” I wonder what it would be like to have friendships you formed in elementary school. I feel a pang of envy and sadness in my chest so I tip my glass and drain it, wanting to forget.
The five of them chuckle. “Something like that,” the one with longer hair replies.
And that’s how this night goes. The guys are funny, charming, and flirting. A few other women join us, but Ridge continues to stay close to me, ordering me drinks. I even buy a round or two, and relax into his touches. Simple ones like rubbing my shoulder, his hand on my arm and of course, whispering in my ear. I quit trying to hide the shiver it causes in me about three drinks ago.
I’m attracted to him, and he knows it.
One by one, the guys pair up, leaving just Ridge and me. “Where are you staying tonight?” His hand rests on my thigh.
“I . . . I, uh, got a room across the street.”
“Hmmm, that’s where we’ve been staying too.” Leaning in close, his breath mingles with mine as the bartender announces last call. “I’ll walk you home.”
Ridge stands and offers me his hand, and I take it without hesitation. There’s something in his eyes, the way he’s been by my side all night. I trust him. I don’t know how to initiate it, but I want him with me, in my room, tonight. I’m not ready to let go of the way he makes me feel.
Ridge keeps his arm around my waist as we head to the bar. I pay my tab, after much protest from him.
The cool night air feels good against my heated skin. He pulls me into his chest and again, I go willingly.
“Which room is yours?” he asks.
“119,” I say, so softly I’m surprised he heard me. His touch has my body craving him. We reach my door and I slip the key from my back pocket. “Would you like to come in?” I’m looking at my feet, my back turned to him. I grip the door handle, bracing myself for his rejection.
Stepping closer, he aligns his body with mine. One hand rests on my hip while the other moves my hair to one shoulder. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He kisses my neck.
“Oh,” I say, dejected.
“I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself,” he continues, pressing his erection into my ass.
Oh, my. Excitement rushes through me. I’m doing this. I passed my comfort level hours ago, and it’s scary, but my gut tells me that Ridge is a good guy. That, for a one-night stand, I couldn’t have picked anyone better. Well, except maybe for his four friends. They all seem like great guys.
“What if . . . What if I don’t want you to?”
His lips trace my neck. “Open the door, Melissa.”
Fumbling with the key, I do as he says. Suddenly, the buzz of the alcohol is gone and in its place is pure lust. I want this. I want one night with him. One night to feel wanted by this Adonis of a man.
Once in the room, Ridge rips off his shirt and throws it in the chair. I take him in—his firm, ridged abs, the tattoos I want to trace with my tongue.
“You keep looking at me like that and this is going to be over before it starts,” he warns me.
I shift my gaze to the ground, embarrassed to have been caught ogling him.
“Hey.” He steps