Page 22 of Riding the Line (Willow Ridge #2)
But now I’m looking at the painting of our friendship from a different angle – there’s no trace of pity, only strokes of respect and devotion. He offers me tenderness because that’s what I deserve. Because even the strongest girl in the world is worthy of being cared for.
‘There.’ Duke slides the hoodie over my head, pulling my long hair out so it doesn’t get caught. His eyes sweep over me once, lips rolling together then parting, a shaky breath escaping them.
‘Can I hug you again?’ he asks on a whisper, forcing my gaze up to lock with his. ‘I … I’ve wanted to hold you since you told me what happened, but I was driving and—’
‘Yes, please,’ I say, and immediately wrap my arms around his waist.
He sighs into my hair, warm breath filtering through the strands and sending a satisfying shiver down my spine.
Slowly, his thick arms wind around me, one along my lower back, the other across my shoulders, and he presses me closer into his warmth.
My face falls flat against his chest, ear pushed up against the broad expanse, listening to the rushed beat of his heart, while mine stays unhurried in the sanctuary of his arms. When Duke’s chin rests on top of my head, I’m completely and utterly encompassed by him – his scent, heat, and body wrapping me up until we’re basically one. I let myself melt into him.
‘Thank you for calling me,’ he whispers against my parting, so quietly, I almost think I’ve made it up in my head.
But when his fingers pulse against me, where they anchor me into his embrace, almost to punctuate his gratitude, I know I heard correctly.
Louder this time, he adds, ‘I know I can’t take away what happened, but I meant it when I said I’ve got you.
Whatever you need to feel better – I’m here.
Always. I don’t care what time it is or how far away you are. I’ve. Got. You.’
After Duke finally let me go, we battled over who was sleeping in his bed and who on the couch.
Obviously, being the gentleman he is, he insisted I take his bed.
The sweet, warm moment from before was immediately drowned with cold water when I suggested his bed was big enough for the two of us and his face screwed up further than I’d ever seen before.
That was enough to shut me up and accept that I’d be spending my first night in Duke’s apartment in his bed alone .
Not quite how those dreams I pretend never happened have usually panned out.
Before saying goodnight, he sorted me with a towel so I could shower off the night, and a pair of old sweats that he thought might fit me to sleep in.
The joke is, even when he was a teenager, Duke was always broad .
So, the only thing that remotely fit was the T-shirt he left on the bed, with the hem just about hitting the tops of my thighs.
Once I’m showered, I leave the bathroom, raking my fingers through my incredibly knotted wet hair and—
There’s a half-naked Duke Bennett searching through one of his drawers ahead of me, immediately halting me in my tracks.
My bottom lip drops just as his head whips up, but I don’t meet his gaze, eyes already wandering down.
Moonlight filters through the blinds, devastatingly illuminating every hard line and ridge of his muscled torso, while shadows only emphasise the way his waist tapers into a deep V down towards his grey sweatpants.
Two of my weaknesses hitting me at once.
I’m finally enlightened to all his hidden tattoos, my eyes frantically flick between the dark illustrations of mountainous landscapes, wolves, roses, and barbed wire, like they’re desperate to soak up this image—
‘Cherry.’ Duke’s voice snaps me back.
I tear my eyes up to meet his – his are wide and bulging, while the rest of his face strains, the lines sharper in the moonlight.
I struggle to muster up a response, certain my mouth has dried out, any moisture in my body having gone straight to between my legs.
Exactly where Duke’s wild eyes keep glancing down to.
Probably because I’m only wearing his T-shirt.
I wasn’t expecting him still to be out here.
Quickly, I sputter, ‘The sweatpants were too big.’
His throat works once. ‘Right.’
‘I could always stick on some of your underwear as shorts—’
‘No.’ The word rushes out, his shoulders pitching higher. ‘No, that’s a bad idea. You’re fine as you are. I’ll get out of your way.’ He abruptly faces the drawers again, chest rising with heaved breaths while he scrambles to find a top.
Tugging at the bottom of my T-shirt, trying to cover myself as much as possible, I lean against his desk to wait before getting into bed.
Attempting to cut through the awkward silence, I chuckle as I admit, ‘I forgot you wouldn’t have conditioner because you shave your head.
My hair’s gonna be a knotty mess tomorrow morning, so no judging. ’
Duke yanks his T-shirt over his head quickly, mumbling, ‘You never look a mess.’
For some, Duke might seem like he doesn’t say much, but tonight he’s come in, all guns blazing with the compliments. I can’t help but savour it.
I go to pull myself up to perch on the edge of his desk properly but accidentally knock his laptop in the process and the screen blares to life. Blood drains from my face when I catch sight of the email open, and the question leaves my lips before I can stop it, ‘Are you leaving Willow Ridge?’