Chapter Nine #2
“I’ve only just started writing,” he said. “Before that it was modeling. And, in true LA cliché fashion, acting. Bit of singing, too.”
Jason blinked, clearly trying to take it all in. “Wow. Okay. I mean, yeah, that tracks. But still, that’s a lot.”
Riley gave a wry smile. “Didn’t stick. Any of it.”
He tried to keep his tone light, but something in Jason’s face let him know he hadn’t succeeded.
“I’ve done the same thing every day for two and a half years,” Jason said after a moment. “I like it, but I have no idea what I’d do if I couldn’t cook. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. What you’ve done is kind of brave, trying all those different things and starting over again.”
Riley stared at him, momentarily lost for words. Nobody had ever called it that before. Either he was a flake or he was a failure. Often, both.
He was still trying to work out how he felt about what Jason had said as he unlocked the car. When Jason climbed in, he misjudged and practically fell into the passenger seat. Riley glanced sideways at him.
“Are you giggling?” he asked, trying not to succumb to Jason’s infectious laughter.
“Nope,” Jason said, and with an effort straightened his mouth. “Definitely not. That’s not manly.”
“And you are very manly,” Riley said, letting his eyes drift over Jason’s long, outstretched body. “Are you drunk?”
Because believe it or not—and most people didn’t—Riley did have some morals.
Fucking someone who was drunk was one of his no-go areas.
And he didn’t want Jason to wake up the next morning regretting what he’d done.
He intended for Jason to be in his bed every night he spent in this damn town and not regret a single minute of it.
“Just feeling good,” Jason said, though the very definite giggle that followed made Riley suspect the beer they’d sampled had something to do with it. Riley had only had a few mouthfuls, knowing he was driving, so Tim had insisted he take some bottles with him.
As he assessed Jason with an experienced eye, Riley had to agree. Jason might be a bit buzzed, but no more than that. Deep relief washed through him, and anticipation began to burn low in his stomach.
He wasted no time in turning the car around to go back down the bumpy track, attempting to avoid the worst of the potholes. Last thing he needed was to wreck the suspension on this rental and get billed for repairs he couldn’t afford.
As if to underline the risk, he hit one at a bad angle, trying to avoid an even worse one. The car jolted, and Riley’s head hit the headrest behind him. Jason reached out, his hand briefly on Riley’s arm, steadying him. “Not sure a car like this is built for around here,” he said.
Riley’s instinct was to defend his driving, but Jason’s touch caught him off guard—soft in a way nothing ever was anymore. And he’d blamed the car, not Riley. It felt like someone else in the world might care if he wound up in a ditch. Riley wasn’t used to that.
Jason, sadly, removed his hand swiftly, like he’d reached out instinctively and had now realized that his touch might not be welcome.
Instead, his eyes were glued to Riley’s hands on the wheel.
During his abortive modeling career, agents had always commented on his hands.
Usually when he was using those hands to do whatever was necessary to get a job, but not always.
They were one of his best features—sensitive-looking and graceful, apparently.
What everyone had failed to mention to him was that they also possessed a mind of their own.
When Riley pulled out onto the highway and he no longer needed both hands on the wheel, his right hand found its way onto Jason’s thigh.
Jason jolted slightly beneath his touch, and then Riley nearly put them in the ditch because Jason’s legs parted further.
Riley didn’t know if Jason had done it on purpose or if it was pure instinct.
And if the latter, that meant Jason was going to be so fucking responsive in bed, and Riley was not going to think of that yet because he had to get them back to town in one piece.
But there was no switching his brain off from thinking how warm Jason’s thigh was beneath the worn denim and noticing the way his muscles flexed as he shifted beneath Riley’s touch.
Riley dared one glance sideways at him. Jason’s color was rising and his tongue flicked over his lips.
He started drumming his fingers on his other leg.
Riley smirked. Couldn’t help it at the evidence Jason was just as impatient as he was. “Something the matter?” he teased.
Jason shook his head swiftly. “No.” The word sounded strangled.
“Good.” Riley moved his thumb in a slow circle against Jason’s thigh.
And then he remembered there was a road in front of him that needed his attention right now.
God damn it, Riley was not going to wreck this rental.
He was going to drive it nice and safe all the way back to Elk Ridge where he could push Jason down on his bed and get to know that long, tempting body intimately.
Finally, they were driving back along Main.
“There’s the diner,” Jason said, his voice slightly hoarse, as Riley was about to drive right past it.
Swearing silently, Riley swerved and pulled into the lot.
He’d been so intent on getting Jason back to his motel he hadn’t even asked him if that was what he wanted.
He killed the engine and turned to Jason, his hand still stubbornly on Jason’s thigh.
Jason didn’t appear to be objecting, and Riley sure as hell wasn’t going to offer to move it.
“So, uh, are you doing anything now?” Riley asked. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to beat his head against the steering wheel, because if he’d ever been that awkward in LA, he’d never have gotten any. And he’d gotten plenty, thank you very much.
“I hope so,” Jason said shyly.
Relief hit Riley like a shot of vodka. “Thank God,” he said, and leaned across the console.
Jason met him halfway, nearly colliding with his nose in his eagerness, but after that, Riley’s tongue was deep in his mouth and Jason was making those helpless, eager little sounds again that had Riley growing hard.
Jason’s hands were under Riley’s shirt, while Riley trailed his fingers up and down the inseam of Jason’s jeans, and God, he wanted.
But somewhere in the haze of lust, a sliver of sense broke through.
It was broad daylight in a parking lot in the center of town.
Elk Ridge was probably already gossiping.
Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. “Not here,” he said. “Unless you want to get banned from the diner for public indecency.”
Jason laughed, a stunned, breathless sound. “You make it hard to think straight.”
“I’ve been told that before,” Riley murmured, brushing his thumb along Jason’s flushed cheek. “But don’t worry—I’m very motivated to get us somewhere more private.”
He pulled back and glanced at Jason’s car, then down at his hand, still resting on Jason’s thigh. “Motel?” he asked. “You want your car, or shall I drive?”
“I’ll get mine,” Jason said, voice uneven but determined.
As Jason slid his hand into the front pocket of his jeans for his keys, Riley caught his wrist. He tugged it free and then slipped his own hand into Jason’s pocket instead.
Jason groaned. His head thunked back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut as Riley’s fingers pressed just slightly too low to be innocent.
“Fuck,” Jason whispered.
“You started it,” Riley said, grinning, even as his pulse pounded with need. God, the way Jason responded—so open and uninhibited about showing his want. It wasn’t just hot. It was addictive.
Another car pulled into the lot.
Riley reluctantly withdrew his hand, plucking the keys free. He dangled them in front of Jason’s dazed face until Jason cracked one eye open.
“My door key’s in the other pocket,” Jason offered, deadpan.
Riley laughed—couldn’t help it. “Tempting. But I’d like to make it to the bed.”
“Out,” he added, gently but firmly, because if Jason kept sitting there with his legs spread like that, they’d never make it.
Jason scrambled out, fumbling his door handle in a way that would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been so endearing.
As Riley watched him walk away, long-legged and tempting, a pang hit somewhere in his chest. Part want, part something else. Something that said don’t let this be one night.
He yanked his phone out of his pocket and flipped it to Do Not Disturb. If Amy tried to call, she was out of luck. Nothing—nothing—was more important than the way Jason had looked at him just now.