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Did you gag? I did. Let’s add fleshy to the list of words to never say again. Put it under shaft.

I place my hands on his bare thighs. “Don’t ever sayfleshyagain.”

“Don’t ever try to fuck me with a grapefruit again.”

We shake on it. “Deal.”

“What was with the sound?”

I shrug, picking pieces of grapefruit off my tongue. “I think it was supposed to be part of the experience.” I hand him my phone and show him the video.

He laughs. Again. Through most of the video and then hands my phone back to me. “It was terrifying. Can we just have sex with no fruit now?”

“Sure.”

“You soundso thrilled.”

“I just. . . .” I pause, nearly losing my courage but then I think, it’s Ridge. I shouldn’t be afraid to tell him anything. Not like I was with Austin. And the new me says what she’s feeling, or thinking in this case. “Well. . . a guy likeyou, you’ve probably been deep throated and sucked off by the best of them, and I’m not very good at it.”

The laughing finally stops and he kind of looks upset again? “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve had a lot of sex. I’ve only been with Austin.”

Two warm fingers slip under my chin, and he forces me to look at him. “Still doesn’t mean you’re not good at it,” he points out. “And for the record, I haven’t had a lot of sex.”

He has a point. But I do call him out on his last statement. “Bullshit you haven’t had a lot of sex.”

“I think in not so many words you called me a whore.”

It’s my turn to smile. “You kinda are.”

“You’re the only girl I’ve fucked in the last twenty-four hours. A whore would have at least a few a day.”

I shove at his shoulder, knowing he’s teasing me now. We fall backward on his bed. His hands come up, framing my face as he kisses me, slowly.

He moves quickly, letting go of the hesitation he had with the grapefruit incident. Leaning down a little closer, I can taste the sourness on my lips as he kisses me hard but slow, deep, speaking for the desire he hasn’t let go of.

I close my eyes, holding on to him as tightly as I can, my hands slipping from his shoulders when he pries them off, holding them above my head.

My legs wrap around his waist, my feet resting on his calves, the muscles in his legs flexing with the movement of his hips.

When he gives me all his weight, he trembles, grinding his hard cock between my wet folds. His movement tense, fast but slow at the same time, savoring the feeling. “Fuck,” he breathes, gripping me harder, rocking faster, deeper, the pain spreading like fire. “So much better than a grapefruit.”

I want to smack him.

He doesn’t use a condom this time, mostly because we ran out, but also because I’m on birth control and I don’t stop him. He’s not a whore like I said he was and I know he’s not sleeping with anyone but me. Maybe this is his way of telling me that? I don’t know. Ridge’s always been fairly cryptic.

My head falls back, Ridge’s mouth capturing my cries of pleasure. He lets my hands go, and I pull against his shoulders, raising my head, my lips finding his collarbone, sliding across his skin.

I feel him everywhere, all around me, inside me and my heart.

Our lips brush tenderly, and I taste the sourness again. Ridge gasps into my mouth, his hips moving faster. This angry, loving man who’s always held a piece of my heart in his hands, he’s giving me himself so deeply I know there’s no going back from this.

We are in over our heads. I know that. He knows it too, he believes it, but still, here we are, living in hidden moments tucked away in his trailer away from the rest of the world, loving dangerously.

He hardens between my legs, moaning so low I swear he’s hurting—maybe he is—but then his breathing changes to panting, gasping and becomes unsteady, synchronizing with the rhythm of my heart.

“I never want this to end,” I whisper over my heartbeat pounding in my ears.