Title: RIDGE
Author: S.L. Scott
Standalone Contemporary Romance
SYNOPSIS
The One didn’t exist.
Then I met Meadow.
The band's honorary little sister was
off-limits. Too late for that. She
says we’re “nothing serious,” but she’s gotten under my skin and I can’t stop
thinking about her. And when I touch her, I know we’re meant to be.
Happy Endings don’t exist.
Not even with Ridge.
My big plans never included falling for a
rock star. Too soon for that. He
wants to make us a “thing,” and I can’t deny our chemistry is combustible. His
persistence is wearing me down, making his proposition hard to resist.
If true love only exists in fairy tales,
why am I beginning to believe that Ridge just might be my happily ever after?
This
STANDALONE Second Chance Rock Star Romance by New York Times Bestselling Author, S.L. Scott, will have you
falling in love with Ridge Carson while introducing you to his Sexy as Sin band
mates—Jet, Tulsa, and Rivers Crow.
FREE in Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited Program
THE
CROW BROTHERS SERIES
Spark Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JVP9X4
Tulsa Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LTXSGA
Rivers Amazon: https://amzn.to/2uPkkup
Spark on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/SparkGR
Tulsa on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/TulsaGR
Rivers Goodreads: http://bit.ly/RiversGR
Ridge on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/RidgeGR
**Series
Cover Designs: RBA Designs**
EXCERPT
Prologue
Dave
“Ridge” Carson
Somewhere between El Paso and
Tucson, I found my soul under the bright stars of the Southwest.
Looking up, I drink her in.
Meadow hates when I stare at her, but beauty like hers is rare. Her chin dips
down, and she kisses my cheek, trailing more toward my ear where she whispers,
“You feel so good inside me.”
“You have it all wrong. You
make me feel good inside you.” I capture her lips on the edge of a laugh and
kiss her while she continues to rock on top of my lap.
The sound of our bodies,
our skin slick against each other becomes part of the hum of the desert outside
the car. A night wind whistles through the cracked open window as the
temperatures continue to fall well after sunset. We couldn’t wait—not for a
hotel or a rest stop. When her hand dipped to my pants and she rubbed over me,
causing my body to react, I pulled over.
Time is our enemy. There’s
never enough of it when I’m with her. Every time I’m with her, I want to drain
every ounce of life from the seconds, minutes, few short hours we get to be with
each other.
My gaze rolls over the
bottom of her jaw as her head tilts back, her mouth open, her bare breasts in
front of me. I want to hold her still, hold her here, right the fuck here on
top of me.
I run my hands over her
body as I make love to the woman who’s become an addiction of mine. I breathe
better, easier when I’m with her. The music of our bodies together is the only
melody I hear. She’s become my friend.
My lover.
My muse.
Lifting up, she eases back
down and then lifts again, gripping my shoulders and digging her nails into my
skin. The pain is pleasure when doled out in provocative ways. “Dave,” she
whispers on the end of a purr. No other name has been uttered in pure ecstasy
like the way she says mine.
I hold her by the hips in
the back seat of the SUV taking in the full view. “Hey,” I say.
She comes back to me, her
eyes open, her soul exposed in such a vulnerable way, setting my heart on fire.
“Hey.” She smiles, and I hold her still again, wanting this to last forever
while equally wanting to rush the release.
A few sips of the wine
we’ve been drinking straight from the bottle make her eyes sparkle. Caught
between want and need, her smile is even until the corners, which curve up.
It’s a smile that both hurts and heals my heart when it appears. “Don’t leave.”
Leaning down, she kisses my
forehead, my nose, my mouth. With her lips against mine, she whispers, “I have
to go.”
I’ve been careful about
making plans with her for so long that the words feel foreign to me even now
when this feels more intimate than any other time before. Every time with her
is like this—better than the last. “I want you to stay.”
I fell for the
free-spirited beauty long before we left Austin. But like all who are meant to
soar, she can’t be caged by antiquated notions of romance. Meadow Fellowes has
been clear about what we are or ever could be—nothing serious. But sometimes, when she looks at me, I see more
hidden in the emerald pools of her eyes. I understand the yearning. She says,
“My flight is tomorrow night.”
We’ve been so good at
keeping it casual, but nothing serious
means we’re fucking because we want to have sex. This isn’t fucking, just like
we’re not casual, not to me. “Can you change it? Give us another week. Another
day. Give us a chance.”
Leaning down, she kisses me and then sits back
up. With her palms on my chest, she holds her smile. “I am. By leaving.” Her
eyes close, and she starts moving on top of me again.
So I grip her a little
tighter, holding her while I can. I meet every one of her pushes with a thrust
of my own. As she comes back to me, the lids are half-mast, but her gaze is
fixed on me. She whispers, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking how good this
feels. Just us. Alone. In the desert, making love, having sex, fucking. All of
it. All of you. You feel so good to me. Maybe we should be more to each other.”
“You’re more than you know,” she purrs softly
and then leans back as if our connection is too much before she starts a slow
gyrate. God, she feels amazing. A
hand rubs over my chest, and this time, my eyes meet hers, coming back from the
hazy edge of release. “We’re not those people.”
“What people are those?”
“The kind of people who
make plans.”
Our bodies glide together
as I say, “We’ve made plans before.”
“Spur-of-the-moment plans.
Those don’t count.”
“They count.” They fucking count. I want to argue, but
my mind clouds as our bodies move of their own volition. My eyes dip closed,
and I swim in the moment, buried deep inside her.
We fall, tipping over that
line that keeps us safe and the one that will end us—heart, body, and soul.
It’s where I prefer to be with her. If only we could stay in this place longer
than it takes for our breathing to recover.
My heart calms, and my
breathing steadies. Meadow slides down with me still inside her and rests her
head on my shoulder. Her fingers toy with the hairs on my chest before a kiss
is placed on my neck. “Six months,” she says. “I’ll be back in six months.”
I tighten my arms around
her. I don’t care that my body’s too big for this back seat or that we’re
covered in sweat. All that matters is that I have her in my arms for a short
time, and I intend to savor every second until she boards that plane.
ABOUT S.L. SCOTT
Living
in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados,
beaches, and cooking with her kids. She's obsessed with epic romances and loves
a good plot twist. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward
the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the
pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she's a pro.
~ Text “slscott” to 77948 ~
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