Ridge lifts a hand and wipes away a tear from my temple, then dips his head and kisses me, gentle and soft, coaxing even more tears out of me. It’s the perfect kiss for the perfect moment. I know he feels what I’m feeling, because my tears don’t alarm him at all. He knows they’re not tears of regret or sadness. They’re simply tears. Emotional tears stemming from an emotional moment that I never imagined could be this incredible.
He’s waiting patiently for my permission, so I nod softly, and it’s all the confirmation he needs. He lowers his cheek to mine and slowly begins to ease himself against me. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on trying to relax, but my entire body is way too tense.
I’ve only ever had sex with one guy, and he didn’t mean half as much to me as Ridge does. The thought of sharing this experience with Ridge, as much as I want to, makes me so nervous I’m physically unable to hide my discomfort.
He can sense my apprehension, so he pauses and stills himself above me. I love how in tune he is with me already. He looks down at me, his dark brown eyes searching mine. He takes both of my hands and pulls them over my head, then laces our fingers together and presses them into the mattress. He leans into my ear. “Want me to stop?”
I quickly shake my head no.
He laughs softly. “Then you have to relax, Syd.”
I bite my bottom lip and nod, completely loving the fact that he just said “Syd” out loud. He runs his nose down my jaw-line, then brings his lips close to mine. Every touch sends waves of heat coursing through me, but it doesn’t ease my apprehension. Everything about this moment is so perfect I’m afraid I might do something to mess it up. It can’t get any better, so that only leaves things with one direction to go.
“Are you nervous?” he asks. His voice brushes across my mouth, and I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, convinced that I could taste his words if I tried.
I nod, and his eyes soften with his smile.
“Me, too,” he whispers. He squeezes my hands tighter and then lays his head across my bare chest. I can feel the rhythm of his body rise and fall against mine with every tense breath. His entire body sighs, and one by one, each muscle begins to relax. His hands are still, and he’s not exploring my body or listening to me sing or having me tell him I love him.
He’s still, because he’s listening to me.
He’s listening to the beat of my heart.
His head lifts off my chest in one swift motion as he locks eyes with mine. Whatever realization he’s just had causes his gaze to pierce mine with excitement.
“Do you have earplugs?” he says.
Earplugs?
I know the confusion can be seen in my expression. I nod anyway and point to the nightstand. He leans over me, opens the drawer, and feels around inside. When he finds them, he lowers himself beside me again, then places them in the palm of my hand. He motions for me to put them in my ears.
“Why?”
He smiles and kisses me, then trails his lips to my ear. “I want you to hear me love you.”
I look down at the earplugs, then back up at him questioningly. “How can I hear you if I’m wearing these?”
He shakes his head, then places his hands over my ears. “Not here,” he says. He moves a hand to my chest. “I want you to hear me from right here.”
That’s all the explanation I need. I quickly put the earplugs in, then adjust my head on my pillow. All the noise around me slowly fades away. I wasn’t aware of all the sounds I was taking in until they no longer run through my head. I don’t hear the clock ticking anymore. I no longer hear the usual activity outside my window. I can’t hear the sheets moving beneath us or the pillow under my head or the bed when he shifts his weight.
I hear nothing.