Chapter 8
Ridley had been so gentle last night that Erica almost wanted to cry. Her lovers tended to think about themselves; the good ones making sure she enjoyed herself as well.
He’d made last night all about her. It had started with a massage for a leg cramp—she really had to get out on these trails more. Boston wasn’t known for its rough and steep trails any more than Oakland had been. Stair-stepper conditioning was not the same as the real world.
But Ridley hadn’t stopped when the cramp finally let go. Slowly, using those powerful hands of his, he turned her into an Erica puddle.
When she’d asked, he’d admitted to dating a masseuse or two. She’d smiled into the pillow she was facedown in. Was there any type of woman Ridley hadn’t dated?
“They seemed to enjoy my amateur efforts to
