Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
KIERAN
Me: Thanks for the rose petals, asshole.
Ronan: Those were Brennan’s idea…
Brennan: You’re welcome, baby ;)
Me: You couldn’t have told him no?
Ronan: I could, but where’s the fun in that?
Me: You’re both dead to me, especially considering the fact that you only booked a room with one fucking bed.
Brennan: HAHAHA
Ronan: It needed to look believable.
Me: Fuck off, Brennan
Me: And forcing Riley to have to sleep in the same bed as me isn’t cool, Ronan
Brennan: Good for you, Kieran, for sticking up for your woman!
Me: I thought I told you to fuck off?
Ronan: I’m sure you’ll figure something out.
Me: You tell me not to sleep with her and then go and do this? It’s like you’re trying to torture me
Ronan: Why does it matter? I thought you couldn’t stand Riley anyway.
I stare down at the message, my fingers hovering over the keys.
I thought I couldn’t stand her, but I also can’t deny that I had fun with her this afternoon when we were studying.
She’s sarcastic and funny too, not that I would ever tell her that. She actually makes me laugh in a way no woman ever has.
Granted, I normally never stick around long enough to find out, but with Riley it’s…easy.
Brennan: Can we still throw you a bachelor party when you get back?
Me: You can, but you’re not invited.
Brennan: Ouch.
Ronan: Brennan, shut the hell up.
Me: Yeah, Brennan…
Ronan: And, Kieran, just stop complaining and get your ass down to some drive-thru chapel so we can get this thing moving. This wedding has already taken up enough of my time as it is.
I frown at my phone, realizing that there is one member of our ridiculous group chat that is suspiciously silent.
Me: Where the hell is Cormac?
I swipe through the messages and see that they haven’t even been delivered, let alone read.
Brennan: How should I know?
The three dots appear next to Ronan’s name as he starts to type a response, but then they disappear again and the chat goes quiet.
Fucking typical.
I pocket my phone and finish buttoning up my shirt.
Seeing as there’s only one bedroom, I’ve resorted to getting dressed in the living area to give Riley some privacy.
I thought it was bad enough that we were having to share my penthouse, which has four bedrooms and plenty of space to get away from each other. But here, there’s nowhere to hide, which is apparent when I notice the water has stopped running.
I glance over at the bedroom door and find that it isn’t closed all the way, and through the small gap, I catch sight of a dripping wet Riley with a towel wrapped around her body.
Water droplets cling to her skin, and I watch, transfixed, as they slide over the smooth curve of her shoulders. But then her fingers are moving, and the towel starts to loosen, and I freeze as it suddenly falls to the floor.
Fuck.
I should look away. I need to look away. But for one raw, helpless second, I don’t. I just stand there like an asshole, drinking in the sight of her bare skin.
She’s the perfect mixture of soft curves and lean muscle.
My eyes trail over her breasts, and I swallow a groan at the sight of her peaked nipples.
I want nothing more than to suck on them, to hear the sounds of pleasure she makes as I reach between her thighs.
Christ, those thighs.
She’s gorgeous, and the effect she’s having on my body is dangerous.
Every muscle is tense, and my pulse is thrumming in my ears as I let myself wonder what it would be like to spread those soft thighs apart and bury my face between them.
“Goddamn it, Riley,” I hiss through my teeth as my cock starts to thicken.
Before I do something stupid, like barge in there and throw that wet, naked body on the bed, I stalk over to the bar and pour myself a double shot of whiskey.
It burns my throat as I down it, but I welcome the feeling because I need the distraction.
I can’t let myself sit with what I just saw, or what I felt for that matter, because I’m going to snap and ruin everything.
As if pretending to be Riley’s husband isn’t complicated enough already, now I have the image of her naked body seared into my mind.
“You can’t fuck her.” I pour myself another stiff drink and down it in one gulp.
My throbbing cock thinks otherwise, but I can’t cross that line.
One kiss had me almost addicted, so I know that if I ever got the chance to taste her pussy, it could actually be the death of me.
I’m on my third drink by the time Riley appears, wearing a fitted black dress.
It’s not quite as revealing as the one from the other night, but it still hugs her curves in all the right places.
Her hair is up in a messy bun on the top of her head with a few little wisps falling around her face, and she’s wearing only a shimmer of gold on her eyelids that brings out the flecks of gold in her eyes.
She looks good.
Too good.
I can’t look at her because if I do, I’ll say something I’ll regret. Or worse, I won’t regret it at all.
“You ready?” I pull my phone out of my pocket and pretend to check the time.
“Yeah.”
I don’t risk glancing at her, but I can feel the shift in the air.
She was probably expecting a compliment from me, but I don’t give it to her. I can’t, no matter how badly I wish I could. So, instead, I say nothing.
We walk in silence as we make our way out of the hotel, where we’re immediately sucked into the neon-lit chaos of the Strip.
There are drunk people everywhere, laughing and yelling over the music, and sirens race past us in a blur of flashing lights. It’s a sensory overload, and I even feel a little overwhelmed as we get lost in the swarm on the way to the restaurant.
I don’t even realize I’ve reached down and taken hold of Riley’s hand until I feel her eyes on me.
I note the look of surprise in her face. “What?”
She glances down, and I do the same, and that’s when I see her small fingers intertwined with my own, and dammit does it feel right to see them there.
“I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”
It’s not a lie, but it’s also not my only motivation. Something about holding onto her hand makes the noise of the Strip feel a little quieter.
I try not to think of how soft and warm her skin feels, or how she doesn’t have any callouses on her palms. But I do notice the way she tightens her hold when we pass a particularly rowdy stag party, and I pull her closer until her arm is pressed up against mine.
She doesn’t let go, and neither do I, which is not a good sign because I’m quickly learning that I can’t think anything about Riley or I’ll quickly lose the little control that I have left.
Every time I sneak a look at her, her eyes are wide with a mixture of awe and panic.
I was planning on taking her to one of the main restaurants along the Strip, but at the last second, I pull us through the crowd and lead her down a side street toward a small Italian restaurant that is tucked away between two bigger hotels.
It’s still overflowing with people sitting at the outside tables, but it’s quieter compared to the Strip, and the smells radiating from the place have my mouth watering.
“Italian okay?”
“Oh, hell yes.” Riley sighs.
I chuckle under my breath as she inhales deeply, savoring the smell of garlic and basil that lingers in the air.
For a moment, I let myself look at her, and for the first time since we left my penthouse this morning, I feel like I can breathe.
I sneak a few bills to the waiter and get us an outside table so we can people-watch as well as order a bottle of champagne. It’s not normally my drink of choice, but it feels like something I should be drinking when I’m pretending to be in love.
Riley is quiet even after the waiter disappears after pouring us both a drink.
My glass remains on the table, untouched, but I watch Riley down half of her glass before we even get the breadbasket.
She’s nervous, and it’s downright adorable.
I lean forward and reach across the table to place my hand over hers.
She jumps at the contact, which I try not to take as a personal insult, but she makes no attempt to pull away.
“Relax. I told you I would do better, remember?”
She cautiously searches my face, but when I squeeze her hand, everything about her softens, and she offers me a small nod. “Okay.”
And just like that, the air shifts between us once again.
Riley is the most relaxed she’s been around me since she first showed up on my doorstep, and I find the conversation flows naturally between us.
While I asked her a ton of questions the last time we shared a meal, it was more because I didn’t want her asking anything about me.
It was a way to keep her talking so that I didn’t have to.
But tonight is different. I find myself asking questions because I genuinely want to know the answer and not because I want a way to fill the silence.
“So, after you graduate from college with honors because of your incredibly smart and sexy tutor, what do you plan on doing?”
“You sure think highly of yourself,” Riley mutters, but I can see her trying her hardest to fight a smile. “But I want to land a job with a Fortune 500 company.”
“Really?”
She shoots me a look. “Don’t sound so shocked. I want to be a full-time analyst. It’s kind of dorky, I know, but it pays well.”
“It’s not dorky.”
She raises an eyebrow at me.
I frown. “What?”
“You really think spreadsheets and projections aren’t dorky?”
“I think wanting something for yourself and working hard to get it is the furthest thing from being dorky.”
A blush creeps up her neck and cheeks as she nervously pushes her food around her plate.
“Do you not agree?” I ask.
“No, I do…”
“But?” I set down my fork and lean back in my chair.
I’ve hardly touched my own food because I’ve been too focused on Riley.
“Well…forging my own path was always important to me. My father didn't understand or respect my decision. He expected me to get married and let a man provide for me while I popped out a few crotch goblins.”
I almost spit my drink all down myself. “Crotch what?”