Chapter 6: A meeting of the minds
Ridge reread his draft of his first English paper, grateful that he would get to meet Laura Kelsey in class a couple of days before turning in his paper on "A Good Man is Hard to Find". He was pretty confident that he was missing the point of the paper. He ha written about why the O'Connor short story was important to him, but he had a feeling that he was supposed to write about what it said about the world in general rather than being reminded of his grandmother.
But he was determined that he wouldn't ask Alex. He just was not going to put her in the position of a potential ethics issue beyond discovering what an amazing sexual partner she was. One moral quandary at a time, thank you very much. Ridge printed his paper so that he could have a hard copy should it be needed, then packed his computer and paper away for class the following day.
When he walked into the kitchen, he noticed that he had neglected to finish cleaning up from the night before, given how Alex had distracted him from doing his chores. And then thinking of Alex for the second time in quick succession made him look at his phone again. A little past six and no messages. He sighed, confident that fixing the mess he had made out of the potential relationship was going to take a lot of work.
So he filled the sink up with moderately hot water, tied on an apron over his t-shirt and jeans, and began cleaning the utensils he had used to make the bolognese and pasta from the night before. The simple task of washing the dishes took his mind away from his troubles. He opened a music app on his phone and found himself listening to rock classics from the 80s, smiling as he remembered his grandmother singing these songs to him as they went on trips or did chores. Then he found himself singing along as well, missing and loving his grandmother so much.
So it was that when the doorbell rang, he had managed to not be thinking about Alex but was crying softly as he thought about his grandmother and wailing away on an old Journey song when he opened the door. Alex's gorgeous eyes peered up at him through her glasses, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, revealing the lovely curve of her neck. Steve Perry was crooning about being "forever yours", and a few sparse tears trickled down his cheek. Alex pressed close to Ridge, her hands capturing his face as she leaned in to kiss at his tears.
"Hey," she whispered, her lips brushing against his. "What's wrong?" Ridge shook his head, his hands stilling in the soapy water. "Nothing. Just... memories." Alex's thumbs wiped away the wetness on his cheeks, her touch gentle. "Bad ones?" she asked softly. Ridge exhaled, his hands finding her waist beneath her coat. "No. Worse... really good ones. My grandmother used to sing this song to me when I was little. She died a few years ago." Alex's expression softened, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I'm so sorry, Ridge." She stepped closer, her body pressing against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He smiled and lifted her chin before giving her a soft kiss. "I'm glad you're here, gorgeous. Been thinking about you all day." Alex brightened and came fully into the apartment, pulling the door behind her and taking off her jacket. Ridge grinned when he saw she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt too. She leaned against him and gave him a full-body hug. "Were you thinking good things? Was I ...naked?"
Ridge laughed out loud. "Baby, do you want to be? Not a thing in the world stopping you." He slid his hands down her back, fingers splaying across her hips before he pulled her tight against him. The heat of her body through the thin cotton of her shirt made his cock stir, but he held back, savoring the moment.
Alex tilted her head up, her lips brushing his jaw. "I *am* naked under here," she murmured, her voice a low tease. "Just for you."
Ridge groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "Such a liar. Not just for me, baby."
She laughed, the sound bright and warm against his skin. "Well, maybe not. But tell me about your grandmother." Ridge laughed again and asked, his voice a mix of amusement and curiosity, "Should I be at all concerned about the juxtaposition of my naked lover with my grandmother?" Alex laughed, her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "Only if you think I'm a pervert. But I think you already know the answer to that question." Ridge's hands slid down to her hips, pulling her flush against him. "I know you're *many* things, Alex Hardesty, but a pervert isn't one of them." "Well, not *just* a pervert." Alex shivered, her fingers tightening in his hair. "I came over to talk," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now that I'm here, I'm not sure where to start."
Ridge took her hand and guided her to the couch. He sat on the end and made space beside himself for her. When Alex sat, he took her hands and faced her.. "Start wherever you want, baby. I'm not going anywhere."
Alex bit her lip, her fingers tracing his knuckles. "It's just... this morning, everything felt so clear. And then I got to work, and Lila—my best friend—started asking questions, and now I’m sitting here with you, and I don't know what I'm doing."
Ridge searched her face and nodded. "Do you want me to help, or should I be quiet and let you think?” Ridge asked, his voice low and steady. He kept his fingers laced with hers, his thumb tracing slow circles on her knuckles. The apartment was warm, the scent of the bolognese still lingering in the air, mixed with the faint musk of his cologne. The Journey song had ended, leaving only the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant murmur of traffic outside.
Alex exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around his. "I don't know. Maybe I just needed to see you. To remind myself that this is real." She looked down at their joined hands, her thumb brushing over the calluses on his fingers. "I keep waiting for this to feel wrong. For the guilt to hit me like a freight train," Alex admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it never comes. She lifted their joined hands, her fingers tracing the veins on the back of his wrist. "This feeling that maybe, for once, I'm not overthinking something to death."
Ridge's thumb stilled its gentle circles. He studied her face—the way her glasses perched slightly askew on her nose, the faint smudge of mascara at the corner of her eye, the way her lips parted just slightly when she was thinking. "You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling, Alex," he said softly. “But I have to know—guilt for what?”
Alex paused , her fingers tightening around his. The question hung between them, fragile as the steam rising from the forgotten pot of coffee on the counter. She exhaled slowly, her breath warm against his skin. “For wanting this. For wanting *you*.”
Ridge’s chest tightened. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of blonde hair from her cheek. “You think I’m some kind of mistake?”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “But I should. I *should* feel guilty. You’re—”
“Old enough to know what I want,” he finished for her, his voice firm but gentle. “Old enough to decide who I want to be with. Old enough to know that this—*you*—isn’t some passing fling for me.”
Ridge’s thumb traced the delicate bones of her wrist, his touch grounding her in the moment. “First, baby, I’m not one of your usual freshmen. I’m 28 years old. So you’re not taking advantage of me, Alex. If anything, I’m the one who’s been chasing you since the second we met.”
Alex swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it *is* simple,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I want you. You want me. The rest is just details.”
Alex let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around his. “The details matter, Ridge. The age difference. The power imbalance. The fact that you were once technically my student, even if you’re not anymore. The fact that I’m still your professor in the broader sense of the university. The fact that I’m old enough to be—”
“My mother?” Ridge finished for her, his lips twitching. “Alex, I love that you’re overthinking this, but you’re not my mother. You’re not even close to my mother. And I’m not some wide-eyed freshman who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Alex let out a shaky breath, her fingers tracing the calluses on his palm. She opened her mouth to speak, and he laid a finger over her lips. “Alex, when I opened the door and you saw me crying, what was your first thought? Did you think of our age difference? Or the potential power imbalance? Or that someone you cared for was unhappy?” Ridge removed his finger from her lips and looked at her curiously.
She exhaled and shook her head. “I was worried about you. I wanted to make you feel better. I wanted to hold you and kiss your tears away.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t think about the age difference or any of that. I just… wanted to be with you.” Ridge’s thumb resumed its slow circles on her wrist, his touch grounding. “That’s because none of that matters when it comes to how we feel about each other. The only thing that matters is this—” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath warm against her lips. “—and this.” His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as he tilted her face up to his.
“And this,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. Alex melted into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she deepened the kiss, her body pressing flush against his. The world outside his apartment faded into nothingness—the distant hum of traffic, the distant murmur of students in the hallway, the faint scent of detergent from the laundry room down the hall. There was only Ridge, his lips on hers, his hands on her body, his breath mingling with hers as he kissed her like he had every right to.
And in that moment, Alex realized that he did.
She had spent years constructing walls—carefully curated boundaries, professional distance, the armor of her carefully maintained reputation. But Ridge had a way of dismantling them with nothing more than a touch, a look, a whisper of her name. His hands slid down her back, fingers pressing into the dip of her waist before settling on her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
Alex broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, her forehead resting against his. "This is insane," she whispered, but there was no conviction in her voice. Only wonder.
Ridge chuckled, his breath warm against her lips. "Insane?
Maybe," Ridge murmured, his lips brushing against hers between words. "But it feels right, doesn’t it?"
Alex exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his t-shirt. The scent of him—soap and something warm and distinctly *him*—filled her senses, grounding her in the moment. "It feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Like if I take that step, there’s no going back."
Ridge’s hands slid up her back, his touch slow and deliberate. "Oh love. That’s what life is," he said softly, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “We never know what the next step brings. But the difference now is that you won’t be taking it alone.” His voice was low, steady, and it wrapped around her like a promise. “I’ll be right there with you.”
Alex swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his body seeped through the thin cotton, grounding her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant murmur of traffic outside, the steady rhythm of his breathing—all of it a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in her mind.
“You make it sound so simple,” she whispered again, but this time, the words lacked their earlier bite. They were softer now, almost hopeful.
Ridge’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
"Simple doesn't mean easy, baby," he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. "But it does mean honest. And I think you're finally starting to see that."
Alex let out a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to where their hands were still intertwined. His fingers were rougher than hers—calloused from years of working with his hands, maybe from some job she didn't even know about yet. The thought sent a strange thrill through her. There was so much about him she didn't know. So much she wanted to learn.
Ridge lifted her hand to his lips, kissing softly. He murmured, “How about, instead of worrying about how we’re going to deal with tomorrow or next week, we just concentrate on the here and now?” Ridge’s lips brushed her knuckles, his breath warm against her skin. “Right now, you’re here. With me. And that’s all that matters.” He kissed her hand again and went on. “I can make us dinner and we can watch a movie. Be domestic.”
Alex blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. “You want to… *cook*?” Ridge grinned, his eyes bright with amusement. “I *was* cooking before you showed up, remember? And now you’re here, so we can do it together. Unless you’d rather sit there looking gorgeous while I do all the work?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Though I *do* like the idea of you watching me.”
Alex laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, here you are,” Ridge countered, standing and pulling her up with him. “In my kitchen, in my life. So I’m not going to waste the chance to show you how domestic I can be.”
Alex rolled her eyes but let him lead her toward the kitchen, her fingers still tangled with his, as if afraid he might vanish if she let go. Ridge turned to her at the counter, taking a moment to size her up. "So, I'm going to cheat on dinner. I bought a quart of vegetable soup at the deli down the block and when I wasn't pining for you today, I as pining for it. And I'll make us some grilled cheese sammidges." Alex blinked. "Grilled cheese what?" Ridge grinned. "Sammidges. Inside thing. Grand mother and I called them that and it stuck." Ridge's grin was infectious, and Alex couldn't help but laugh as she leaned against the counter, watching him move around the kitchen with surprising ease. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" she said, her voice warm with amusement.
Ridge glanced over his shoulder as he pulled out a loaf of crusty bread from the breadbox. "You have no idea, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and teasing. He reached for a large skillet and placed it on the stove, turning the heat to medium. "But I'm happy to show you. One sammidge at a time."
Alex watched as Ridge moved with a confidence that belied his earlier vulnerability.
The way his hands handled the butter knife, spreading it with practiced ease across the thick slices of bread, the way he sprinkled the cheese in even layers—it was domestic, yes, but there was something deeply intimate about it. Like he was feeding her more than just food.
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him. "You're really good at this," she said, her voice soft.
Ridge glanced up, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. "I've had practice. My grandmother taught me. Said every man should know how to cook at least one thing well." He flipped the first sandwich, the cheese bubbling golden at the edges.
The scent of buttered toast and melted cheddar filled the kitchen, warm and comforting, mingling with the rich smell of the warming soup. Alex watched him, the way his hands moved with effortless precision, the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. There was something deeply intimate about watching a man cook for her—something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing until now.
Ridge glanced up, catching her staring. "Like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Alex smirked, pushing off the counter. "Maybe. But I’m more interested in tasting what you’ve made."
He chuckled, flipping the sandwich onto a plate. "Patience, woman. I'm making art here," Ridge said, his voice playful as he nudged her out of the way with his hip. "Now, take this and don't burn yourself." He handed her a plate with the first golden-brown sammidge, the cheese still oozing slightly at the edges.
Alex took the plate, her fingers brushing against his. The warmth of the dish seeped through, but it was nothing compared to the heat that spread through her at his touch. She watched as he turned back to the stove, his broad shoulders shifting beneath his t-shirt as he worked. The kitchen was small, intimate, and suddenly felt even smaller with the weight of everything unsaid between them.
Ridge took a deep breath and said, "To your earlier question. My parents died in an automobile accident when I was less than five years old. I have very faint memories of them. And so I was raised by my grandmother, on her farm, in rural North Carolina." He looked up at her to check her expression. "And when I graduated from high school, there was no money for higher education, so I stayed on the farm, eventually taking over management of it as she grew older and less able to do things." Ridge paused to gather his thoughts as he flipped his sandwich and stirred the soup.
"She upended her life to take care of me for twenty years. And I never got the impression she regretted it, other than she wanted me to get away from the rural lifestyle, at least for a while. So, when she died last year, I worked with some lawyers to sell most of the farm, except for the farmhouse. Which gave me enough money for all of this." He waved his arm to indicate the apartment and the view of the city.
"And here I am. Living my best life, as they say." He flipped the second sandwich and stirred the soup again. "So, that's my story. No deep dark secrets. No hidden crimes. Just a guy who got lucky after a lot of bad luck."
Alex watched him, her fingers tightening around the plate. The way he spoke about his past—so matter-of-fact, yet with an undercurrent of something deeper—made her chest ache. She wanted to ask more, to peel back the layers of his life, but the moment felt too fragile.
Ridge put his own sammidge on a plate and handed that to Alex as well. Then he got down two bowls and ladled out some soup. As he carried them to the table, he said, "You know, you take the second sammidge, it'll be warmer and gooier." He sat and made space beside him. "Go ahead, I know you must be filled with questions about my youth. I have no secrets from you." He leaned over and gave her a loud kiss on her cheek.
Alex laughed, setting the plates down on the table. "I have questions, but I don't want to pry."
Ridge took a seat and pulled her chair closer to his. "You're not prying. I'm offering. And I want you to know everything about me. Just like I want to know everything about you." He gestured at the food. "Now, eat. The soup is getting cold."
Alex sat down, her fingers brushing against his as she reached for her spoon. The warmth of his touch lingered, even after she pulled away. She took a sip of the soup, the rich, savory flavors filling her mouth. "This is really good," she said, genuinely surprised. Ridge nodded. "It's a good deli. It would take me days to do this, plus the owners are really nice. So I give them business." He wriggled his eyebrows at her. "Maybe we can have lunch there on Saturday, if we decide to get out of bed...." His eyes remained on her as he took a sip of the soup.
Alex snorted on the soup as his eyebrows moved independently of each other. "You are *ridiculous*," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Who says we'll even be in bed together on Saturday?"
Ridge's grin was wide and unrepentant. "Ooo, intrigue! Are we going to be on the floor instead?" He leaned down and kissed the veriest corner of her mouth. Alex thumped his chest, then whispered warmly, "Wherever you take me, Ridge." She leaned into him, her lips brushing his jawline. "But I want to know more about you. About your grandmother. About the farm. About everything."
Ridge's eyes softened, and he set his spoon down. "What do you want to know?"
Alex hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her bowl. "What was it like? Growing up on a farm?"
Ridge leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "It was hard, but it was good. Grandmother couldn't do the real farm work, so there were farmhands around. They taught me how to be a man, but Grandmother taught me how to be...me?" Ridge's eyebrows came together as he tried to put the words together. "Does that even make sense?" Ridge asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I was a kid. I didn't know who I was supposed to be. But Grandmother made sure I knew who I *wasn't* supposed to be." He smiled, his eyes distant with memory. "She was a tough old bird. Wouldn't let me get away with anything. But she also had this way of making the hardest things feel manageable."
Alex watched him, her fingers tracing the condensation on her water glass. "Like what?"
Ridge leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Well, take the farm. We had this old tractor that broke down more often than it ran.
One day, I was maybe ten, and it just *died* in the middle of a field. Grandmother was already in the house, and I was out there alone, sweating in the heat, staring at this hunk of metal like it was a personal insult. I kicked it. Hard. And then I sat down in the dirt and started crying because I didn’t know what to do.
A few minutes later, Grandmother came out with a glass of sweet tea and a rag. She sat down beside me in the dirt, handed me the tea, and said, 'Ridge, that tractor ain’t never gonna fix itself.
But it ain’t gonna fix itself if you’re sittin’ here cryin’ either.' Then she wiped my face with that rag like I was still five years old. And I remember thinking, *Damn, I’m a grown man now, and she’s still treatin’ me like a baby.*"
Alex laughed softly, her fingers brushing against Ridge’s. "Sounds like she had a way of keeping you grounded."
Ridge nodded. "And yet, she's the person who most encouraged me to read. For a long time, Saturdays were the day we went into town and I went to the library. Riding in her truck, I got to hear the music that she loved, that I grew to love."
Ridge smiled at Alex. "So that's me. Farm boy, raised on simple values. In the big city for the first time." Alex smiled, her fingers tightening around her spoon. "And what did you think of it?"
Ridge leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant with memory. "I thought it was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen. All those buildings, the noise, the lights—it was like nothing I'd ever imagined." He laughed softly. "I remember standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the skyscrapers, and thinking, *This is where people go to disappear.*"
Alex's breath caught. "Disappear?" "Yeah. Back home, everyone knew everything about everyone. There was no hiding. But here? Here, I could be anyone. I could be the guy who walked into a bar and ordered a whiskey neat, or the guy who sat in a coffee shop for hours reading books no one had ever heard of. I could be the guy who took a woman like you to dinner without anyone batting an eye. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone."
Alex studied his face, the way the late afternoon light caught the angles of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble along his chin. "And what did you discover about yourself here?"
Ridge reached for his glass of water, his fingers brushing against hers as he lifted it to his lips. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent a current through her that had nothing to do with electricity and everything to do with the way his eyes held hers over the rim of the glass. He set it down with a quiet clink, his gaze never leaving hers.
"You know what I discovered?" he asked, his voice low, almost intimate, despite the casual setting. "I discovered that even though I could shape myself into who I wanted to be, that I can't see the stars here. And that kinda makes me sad." Ridge's voice was soft, almost wistful. His fingers traced the rim of his water glass, the condensation beading under his touch. "Back home, I could lie in the field at night and see the whole damn sky. Here, it's just... lights. Too many lights."
Alex watched him, the way his gaze drifted toward the window, as if he could see through the city to the stars beyond. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his wrist. "You miss it."
He turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together. "Sometimes. But then I look at you, and I remember why I left."
Alex's breath caught. The words danced in her mind, inciting ideas. And she realized that what he had discovered in the city is the same door he had opened for her. With him, she could be who she wanted to be.
The realization settled in her chest like a warm weight, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Alex let her fingers linger on his wrist, tracing the faint scars there—old, faded marks from years of farm work. She wondered what other stories his body held, what other lessons his grandmother had taught him in the quiet of those North Carolina fields.
Ridge’s thumb moved in slow circles over her knuckles, grounding her. "You’re quiet," he observed, his voice low. "That’s dangerous."
Alex laughed, the sound soft and genuine. "I’m just thinking."
"About?"
She hesitated, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. "About how strange this is.
How *easy* it is," she admitted, her thumb brushing over the calluses on his palm. "I should be overthinking this. I *should* be listing all the reasons why this is a terrible idea."
Ridge's lips quirked. "But you're not."
"No," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not."
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Because deep down, you know this feels right."
A shiver ran through her at his words, at the way his voice curled around her like smoke. She turned her head slightly, her lips brushing his jaw.
"It does," she whispered. And then his mouth was on hers, and without hesitation, she gave herself over to the slow kiss. Her arms entwined about his neck and she was pressing herself to his chest. Her mind was empty but for the feel of him against her and his taste and smell. When he finally drew back, she blushed at how lost she had been and how much she wanted to go there again.
"I should probably go," she said, her voice breathless. "I have a meeting with the department chair tomorrow, and I need to prepare."
Ridge's fingers traced the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "So, no movie? I'm disappointed." Ridge's voice was low, teasing, but his eyes held a flicker of genuine regret as he pulled back just enough to study her face. The kitchen light caught the gold in his hair, making it look like he’d been kissed by the sun. "If you've gotta, you gotta." His grin was somehow more bland as he started to pick up the dinner dishes. "Should I pretend that I don't care if you stay or go?"
Alex started to smirk at him and then saw he was serious, his posture less open. It was a blow, and she realized that she had done that. That this wonderful man who had opened himself to her had just had her own door shut in his face. As he went past her towards the sink, he brushed a kiss on the side of her neck in passing. He didn't linger, and she felt it like another blow, watching his back as he stood at the sink and rinsed the dishes.
When Ridge finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher, he turned to see her leaning against the kitchen table, studying him. He ran his hand through his hair and leaned on the counter. Their bodies were actually bent away from each other and Alex noticed, realizing she had done that also and raising her hand to her mouth. She felt the emptiness she had come to accept before he had entered her life, an emptiness ready to assume its previous place.
She gasped, and instantly Ridge was beside her, fingers on her face, his eyes studying hers. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest, sighing with relief when his arms went around her again and his peacefulness flowed back into her.
They stood like that for a few minutes. Eventually, without turning her head, she murmured, "A movie would be good."
Ridge's arms tightened around her for just a second before he stepped back, his hands sliding down to take hers. His eyes were bright with something unspoken as he pulled her toward the living room. "I'll grab the popcorn," he said, his voice lighter now, but still carrying that undercurrent of something deeper. "You pick the movie."
Alex followed him, her fingers still tangled with his, as if afraid he might vanish if she let go. The living room was warm, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air, mixed with the faint smell of the soup they'd just eaten. She sank onto the couch, her fingers tracing the worn fabric of the cushions. The picture window looked out over the city at night, and Alex grew warm as she remembered their first night here together and how he he had held her against that window as he made love to her.
She turned her head and saw Ridge watching her. He smiled, and murmured, "Yeah, that was a good night". He came and sat beside her on the couch, and she leaned into him as he pulled her close. He smelled of soap and something warm and distinctly *him*. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she felt the heat of him through his t-shirt. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek.
Ridge reached for the remote and turned on the television. "So, what do you want to watch? Something light, or are you in the mood for something with a bit more... depth?" He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
Alex laughed softly, snuggling closer. Ridge grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around the two of them. "How about...old school comedy?" Alex looked up at him curiously. "How old do you mean?" Ridge chuckled. "How about the 1930s?" Ridge asked, scrolling through the streaming options with one hand while the other stayed wrapped around Alex’s shoulders. "You know, the kind of movies where men wore suits and hats and women wore dresses that made them look like they stepped out of a dream."
Alex tilted her head back to look at him, her lips quirking. "You’re a romantic, Ridge."
"Only when it suits me," he said, his thumb brushing her shoulder through the blanket. "But seriously, I’m thinking *It Happened One Night*. Clark Gable. Claudette Colbert. Perfect mix of wit and charm."
Alex considered it, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh. "I haven’t seen it in years. Maybe since college," Alex admitted, shifting closer to Ridge as he found the film and pressed play. The opening credits rolled in crisp black-and-white, the music swelling with that old Hollywood grandeur. Ridge settled back into the couch, his arm tightening around her shoulders as if he couldn’t bear the thought of her being even an inch farther away.
Alex rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. The scent of him—soap and something warm, like sun-warmed cotton—wrapped around her like a promise. She traced idle patterns on his thigh, her fingers brushing the rough fabric of his jeans. "You really like these old movies, don’t you?" she murmured. Ridge stroked her hair. "Gorgeous blonde. Screwball comedy. Love wins out. What's not to like, baby?" Ridge murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head as the film began. "It's got everything. Romance. Adventure. A little bit of mischief." His voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her cheek. "Plus, Claudette Colbert could outwit anyone in a room. Even Gable."
Alex smiled against his shirt, her fingers tracing the faint outline of his ribs through the fabric. "You're just saying that because she reminds you of me."
Ridge chuckled, the sound warm and rich in the quiet room. But you're smarter than her. And way sexier."
She lifted her head to look at him, her eyebrows raised.
"You think I'm sexy?"
Ridge's grin was slow, deliberate. "Baby, I *know* you're sexy. That's not even up for debate."
Alex laughed, the sound soft and warm in the quiet apartment. The glow from the television flickered across his face, casting shadows that made his features even more striking—sharp jawline, the faintest hint of stubble, those lips that always seemed to be on the verge of smiling. She traced a finger along his collarbone, feeling the steady beat of his pulse beneath her touch.
"You're not so bad yourself," she murmured, her voice low. "For a farm boy."
Ridge's laugh rumbled through his chest, his fingers tangling in her hair. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Alex tilted her head back to look at him, her lips curving into a smile. "It's not. It's just... different."
He leaned down, his breath warm against her lips. "Different is good. Different is interesting."
The movie played on, but neither of them was really watching. The flickering light from the screen cast shifting shadows across Ridge's face, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the way his eyes darkened when he looked at her. Ridge straightened up under her study, then asked, "So, wait a second. Does that mean you don't think you're sexy? That can't possibly be true." Alex tilted her head, her fingers still tracing idle patterns on his thigh. "I know I'm not *unattractive*, but sexy? That's a stretch."
Ridge's fingers tightened in her hair, tilting her face up to his. "Baby, you're *way* more than just not unattractive." His voice was low, rough with something that made her pulse quicken. "You're *gorgeous*. And smart. And funny. And the way you look at me like you're trying to figure me out—" His thumb brushed over her lower lip, his gaze dropping to her mouth. "That's sexy as hell."
Alex's breath hitched.
"And I don't entirely believe you *need* those glasses, but when you take them off and your hair comes unbound? Classic hollywood, baby. Made for cameras." He kissed her forehead. "And it drives me nuts." The way Ridge looked at her—like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing—made her chest tighten. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her tongue as his thumb traced the shape of her lips, slow and deliberate. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, pooling warmth low in her belly.
The movie played on, forgotten. The black-and-white images flickered across the screen, the distant laughter of the characters blending with the hum of the refrigerator and the steady rhythm of Ridge's heartbeat beneath her ear. But Alex couldn't focus on any of it. All she could see was the way Ridge's eyes darkened, the way his breath hitched when she leaned into his touch. The way his fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, as if he was afraid she might vanish if he let go.
"You're killing me, Alex," he murmured, his voice rough with something she couldn't name. "You have no idea what you do to me."
She swallowed hard, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Maybe I want to know," she whispered.
Ridge's lips parted, his breath warm against her skin. "Then let me show you." Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers, hungry and demanding. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as if he couldn't get enough of her.
The taste of him—warm and familiar—sent a jolt through her, erasing every doubt, every hesitation. The world outside his apartment faded into nothingness—the distant hum of traffic, the murmur of students in the hallway, the faint scent of detergent from the laundry room down the hall.
Alex melted into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she deepened the kiss. The movie played on, forgotten, its black-and-white images flickering across the screen like ghosts. When the screen went black, Ridge drew back from her and whispered. "Come to bed? We don't have to have sex, just let me hold you as you sleep."
Alex looked up at him through her lashes and grinned sideways. "Do you really think we can sleep in the same bed and not fuck, Ridge? My body knows you're there." Alex whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I can feel you in the air. I can feel you in my bones."
Ridge's fingers tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Then you know we can't sleep," he said, his voice low and rough with something that made her pulse quicken. "Not like this."
The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant murmur of the city outside. The movie had ended, leaving only the faint glow of the television screen, casting shifting shadows across Ridge's face. His eyes were dark, intense, as they held hers.
Alex swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Then she rolled to her feet on the floor, tugging on his shirt so he would follow her up the stairs. When they reached the master bedroom, she pushed him to a seat on the edge of the bed, then slowly stripped for him. Ridge actually groaned as her jeans slid down her hips.
Alex smirked at him, slow and deliberate, as she stepped out of them and kicked them aside. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing against the mattress like he was fighting the urge to grab her. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin, like a physical touch, as she turned away from him and bent at the waist, showing him her ass and pussy barely concealed. She reveled in her control of his reaction, swaying slowly. Then she stood and reached behind her back, unhooking her bra. The straps slid down her arms, and she let it fall to the floor, her full breasts swaying free, her nipples already tight and aching for his mouth.
She took a step towards him, then another, then lifted her breast to his mouth, offering it to him. His mouth closed on the nipple, sucking hungrily and causing Alex's entire body to arch around his lips.
His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her closer, his mouth still locked around her nipple. The wet heat of his tongue swirled over the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her as he sucked, licked, and nibbled, driving her wild.
When he finally released her with a wet pop, she whimpered at the loss, but his hands were already moving, sliding down her body, tracing the curve of her waist before hooking into the waistband of her panties. “These need to go,” he muttered, his voice thick with hunger.
He yanked her panties down her thighs with a sharp tug, and Alex stepped out of them, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stood before him completely naked. His eyes raked over her body like a man starving, taking in every curve, every dip, every inch of her skin. The way he looked at her—like she was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen—made her feel powerful, desired, *wanted*.
Ridge’s hands slid up her thighs, his calloused fingers rough against her soft skin. He gripped her ass hard, pulling her forward until she was straddling his lap, her bare pussy pressed against the thick bulge in his jeans. She could feel the heat of him through the denim, the way he throbbed beneath her, and she rocked against him, a soft moan escaping her lips. His hands slid up her back, his fingers tangling in her hair.
She arched into his touch, her nipples brushing against his chest, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through her body. His mouth found hers again, his tongue sliding between her lips, tasting her, claiming her. She kissed him back with equal hunger, her hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt.
She tugged at the hem, desperate to feel his skin against hers. Ridge broke the kiss just long enough to yank the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Alex’s fingers immediately traced the defined ridges of his abs, her nails scraping lightly over his skin as she explored him.
Ridge groaned, his hands gripping her hips harder, pulling her closer until she could feel the thick, hard length of him pressing against her through his jeans. She rocked against him, her wet heat sliding over the denim, teasing them both. His breath hitched, his fingers digging into her flesh as he ground up into her.
“Are you sure, Alex?" he growled, his voice rough with need. "I don't want you to regret this. I don't want you to regret anything." Ridge's voice was strained, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he ground his cock against her. The friction was maddening, the denim rough against her sensitive skin, but she wanted more. Needed more.
Alex leaned back, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his chest before sliding down to the waistband of his jeans. "I won't regret this," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "But I *will* regret it if you don't fuck me right now."
Ridged pushed her from his lap to her feet before him. He pulled his pants and briefs down, his cock springing up as his pants slid to the floor. Then he reached for her, lifting her easily, and putting her back in his lap. Alex cooed at the increased heat of his naked cock against her skin, and she reached down to wrap her hand around it, squeezing possessively.
The thick, heavy weight of him pulsed in her grip, the veins standing out along the shaft, the head already slick with pre-cum. She stroked him slowly, her thumb swirling over the crown, spreading the wetness, feeling him twitch and throb in her hand.
His cock pulsed in her grip, hot and heavy, the skin stretched tight over the thick shaft. She could feel the heat of him, the way he throbbed against her palm, and she squeezed him tighter, her thumb swirling over the slick tip, spreading the pre-cum that beaded there.
"Fuck, Alex," Ridge groaned again, his head falling back as he arched into her touch. "You're gonna make me come before I even get inside you."
She smirked, her fingers tightening around him, stroking him slowly, deliberately. "Is that what you want?" she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "To come like this? Or do you want me to fuck you?" Ridge's eyes were dark with need, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as she stroked him. His cock throbbed in her grip, the head slick with pre-cum, the veins standing out along the shaft.
Alex leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "I want you to fuck me," she whispered, her voice rough with desire. "Hard. Right now."
Ridge growled, his hands gripping her ass as he lifted her up, positioning her over the thick, swollen head of his cock. Alex gasped as she felt the heat of him pressing against her entrance, the slick tip teasing her folds. She was already so wet, so ready for him, but the anticipation made her tremble. Ridge’s hands were firm on her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he held her suspended above him, his cock throbbing against her.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough with need.
Alex met his gaze, her breath hitching as she saw the raw hunger in his eyes. There was no hesitation, no doubt—just pure, unfiltered desire. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled beneath her, ready to snap.
"Say it again," he growled. "Tell me what you want."
Alex licked her lips, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"I want you to fuck me, Ridge. I want you to fuck me *hard*. I want you to show me how we belong together."
Ridge's eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he heard the filthy words spill from her lips. He gripped her hips tighter, his fingers digging into her soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. Then, with a sharp, upward thrust, he impaled her on his cock, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal, glorious motion.
Alex gasped, her back arching as she took him, her nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure and pain tangled in her veins. Then she hissed a soft "Yesss." He was *thick*—thicker than she remembered, stretching her in ways that made her whimper, her inner walls clenching around him as if trying to pull him deeper.
"Fuck, you're perfect," Ridge growled, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. Alex could only moan in response, her body adjusting to the invasion, her hips already rocking instinctively against his.
The stretch burned, but it was the kind of burn that made her clench around him, her pussy fluttering as she tried to take more of him. Ridge groaned, his head falling back as he felt her tighten around him. Her hands were on his shoulders, and she looked down at him as her hips rose and fell, taking him entirely with each stroke,
His hands slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her down for a bruising kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth, mimicking the way his cock was buried inside her, and Alex moaned into him, her nails digging into his shoulders.
She could taste the salt of his skin, the faintest hint of cheese and butter, and something else—something dark and intoxicating that was just *him*. His hands gripped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lifted her slightly, then slammed her back down onto his cock, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room.
"Fuck, yes," Ridge groaned against her lips, his voice rough with need. "So sexy, so fucking perfect."
Alex whimpered, her body trembling as she set a brutal pace, lifting and slamming her heat down onto his cock over and over. The thick length of him stretched her, filled her, *owned* her with every brutal thrust. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving red welts in their wake, but Ridge didn’t care. He was lost in her, his hips snapping up to meet her every downward motion, his cock pistoning in and out of her slick heat with a wet, filthy sound.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “So tight. So fucking hot for me.”
Alex could only moan in response, her head falling back as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.
The way he filled her—*stretched* her—was almost too much, but she *needed* more. Wanted to feel every inch of him, wanted to be marked by him, claimed by him.
Ridge’s hands slid up her back, his fingers tangling in her hair as he yanked her head back, exposing the long line of her throat. His mouth crashed against her pulse point, teeth grazing her skin before he sucked hard enough to leave a bruise. Alex gasped, her hips stuttering as the sharp pain sent a jolt straight to her clit.
Then the head of his cock poked her cervix and her entire body clenched and spasmed, her orgasm cascading through her body. She howled and dragged her nails over his chest as she fought to maintain some small bit of control. "You're so deep in me! So huge! All yours, Ridge, every bit of me!" Alex gasped, her fingers as her body clenched around him, her pussy fluttering violently with the force of her climax. The orgasm tore through her like wildfire, her inner muscles spasming around Ridge's cock, milking him with desperate, rhythmic pulses. She could feel every ridge, every thick vein of his shaft as he stretched her, filled her, *ruined* her in the most delicious way.
Ridge groaned, his hips stuttering as he fought to hold back, his fingers digging into her ass hard enough to bruise. "Fuck, Alex—you're *so* tight when you come, so beautiful," he growled, his voice rough with strain.
His hips stuttered beneath her, his cock throbbing inside her as he fought to hold back. But she could feel him—could feel the way his body tensed, the way his fingers dug into her flesh like he was trying to anchor himself to her.
"Give it to me," she panted, her nails raking down his chest. "I want to feel you come. I want to feel you *flood* me."
Ridge groaned, his hips snapping up into her with a brutal thrust.
His cock swelled inside her, the thick head pressing against her cervix, sending another wave of pleasure-pain crashing through her. "Fuck, Alex—you're gonna make me come," he growled, his voice raw with need.
Alex could feel it—the way his cock pulsed inside her, the way his body tensed beneath her. She wanted to feel him lose control, wanted to feel him *break*. She leaned forward, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "Then come for me, Ridge. Fill me up." Her hands cradled his face as she stared into his eyes. His hands gripped her hips so hard she knew there would be bruises tomorrow, but she didn’t care. The pain only heightened the pleasure, made every thrust of his cock inside her feel like a brand, marking her as his.
She could feel him swelling inside her, his cock throbbing with the promise of release. She wanted it—needed it. Wanted to feel him come undone, to feel his hot cum flooding her pussy, filling her up until it spilled out of her. And then he arched, writhing beneath her, his cock flooding her hungry pussy with his cum. She spasmed herself, then collapsed on him, wrapping him in her arms as her body devoured his.
His cock pulsed inside her, flooding her with hot, thick ropes of cum, each spurt sending fresh waves of pleasure crashing through her. She could feel it—every thick, sticky jet of his release filling her, stretching her even more as her pussy fluttered around him, milking him for every last drop.
Ridge groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he emptied himself inside her. His body trembled beneath her, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. "So fucking good," he muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion. His cock twitched inside her, still half-hard, still leaking cum into her swollen pussy. His fingers traced lazy circles on her back, his touch possessive, reverent.
Alex covered his lips with a finger and then leaned forward until their nose touched. "Hear me, Ridge. I wanted this. I *want* this."" Ridge nodded and his fingers dug into her back a little.
Alex whimpered as she felt his cum begin to drip out of her, sliding down her thighs. She could feel the wetness between them, the sticky heat of his release coating her inner thighs, her ass. She shifted slightly, and another thick drop of cum slid from her pussy, trickling down her leg.
Alex settled atop him, cherishing the feel of him inside her and the filthy feel of their combined cum moving between them. She rested her head on his shoulder and shivered as he kissed the top of it. After a big sigh, she whispered, "In the morning, you take my ass, so I can keep you with me all day." She slapped his arm softly. "And you owe me a butt plug. You promised."
Ridge's fingers tightened around her waist, his lips brushing her temple. "And I will always keep my promises, baby." Alex shivered at the way his voice rumbled against her skin, the deep timber sending a fresh wave of heat between her legs. His cock was still buried inside her, half-hard but still thick, still *there*, pulsing with the remnants of their shared pleasure. She could feel the sticky wetness of his cum between her thighs, the way it clung to her skin, marking her as his. The thought made her clench around him, and Ridge groaned, his fingers digging into her hips. She pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder and nearly instantly after, they were both asleep.