Chapter 17
17
9:04 p.m. Friday, November 1
N ick pulled his SUV into the garage and handed Gabe the hemp tote full of leftover mung bean stew.
“Do me a favor, Chicken Thrower. Bury this in the garbage, and take Burt inside. Thorn and I have some important yard maintenance to take care of,” he said.
“It will be my pleasure,” Gabe agreed. He climbed out of the vehicle with the dog bounding after him.
Riley undid her seat belt and reached for the fast-food bag of chicken nuggets, but Nick closed a hand over her thigh.
“Sit tight, Thorn. I’ve got a plan.”
He watched Gabe and Burt exit the garage in the rearview mirror and then stabbed the button on the remote. The door slid closed behind them.
“Yard maintenance in a dark garage?” she teased.
Nick waggled his eyebrows at her in the glow of the dome light. “I’ve got a plan. I’ve had thirty-seven plans since you walked down the stairs in that outfit.”
Riley glanced down at the plain rust-colored V-neck sweater and jeans. The nice thing about Nick was that he would find her attractive in a paper bag.
“You want to have sex out here? But it’s cold.”
His wolfish grin was lightning quick. “I’ll keep you warm, baby.”
With that, he hooked her under the arms and dragged her across the console to his lap. His mouth was on hers immediately. She could taste his hunger, his hurry, his need.
“Remind me to wear this sweater more often,” she said against his hard lips.
“Take off your pants,” he ordered.
“Need more room,” she groaned.
Nick obliged, opening his door and climbing out with her still in his arms.
“Four months,” he said, giving her just enough room to shuck her shoes and pants before dragging her into the back seat.
Riley pulled back. “What?”
“We’ve been doing this for four months, and every fucking morning, I can’t wait to wake up and do it all over again with you,” he rasped.
Grumpy Nick, Hot-to-Trot Nick, and Nick Doing Something He Didn’t Want to Do But Doing It Anyway Because She Wanted To were some of her favorite Nick Santiagos. But Romantic You’re the One For Me Nick was on a level all his own.
“Come here, Riley,” he said, his voice husky.
She didn’t bother playing coy. Instead she launched herself at him, straddling his thighs and bumping her head on the ceiling in the process. They kissed through the pain as Nick magically made her underwear disappear. She wondered distantly if that counted as a superpower.
“Condom?” Riley whispered.
Nick reached behind her into the seatback pocket and produced a variety pack of condoms.
“Good job,” she praised.
“Oh, baby. I’m just getting started,” he said, sliding his hands under her sweater to cup her breasts.
He brought his face to her cleavage. She wasn’t sure if he used his fingers or his tongue to release the front closure but decided it didn’t really matter because his hot mouth was skimming its way over her bare skin, and his hands were everywhere at once.
His erection pulsed against her, and Riley responded with a slow roll of her hips. They knew each other’s bodies, desires, needs. And it just kept getting better. Her nipples pebbled under his attentive mouth, and her brain finally, finally went quiet.
“You drive me wild, Thorn. Every day. I can’t get enough,” he confessed to her boobs.
“Uh-huh,” she breathed.
And then he was lifting her higher, shifting under her, and then they were one.
His growl of possession made her tremble from toes to hair roots.
“Better every time,” he murmured against her neck.
“Yeah, this doesn’t suck.” She let out a sharp gasp at his upthrust. Her body responded to his with an eagerness that would have been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so damn good.
Nick raked his fingers through her short hair and gripped. “Shut up and ride, baby.”
She slapped a hand to the foggy window and did exactly that, rising and sinking onto him with a growing fever. Riley rocked against him, onto him, and wondered how she didn’t just disintegrate with pleasure.
“I fucking love you, Thorn.”
That was all it took. One gravelly profession and a violent orgasm detonated in her body.
“Nick!” she cried.
He groaned under her as he gripped her hips and pumped mercilessly into her. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, a second climax hit her. Nick went rigid, his teeth closing over her clavicle as he joined her in release.
Sweaty and breathless, she collapsed on top of him. The tension slowly seeped out of his body. Still panting, he stroked a hand over her hair and down her back. “See, baby? I told you we were good at this.”
“Feel free to prove it to me whenever convenient,” she teased, her face buried in the crook of his neck.
Nick’s arms tensed around her. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”
She sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“Charley horse. Hamstring,” he wheezed.
They entered the house disheveled and sleepy to find Burt slurping water from his bowl in the disaster zone of the kitchen.
Nick tested the sink faucet and grunted when a biblical flood didn’t flow forth from the cabinet. “Fucking Carlo,” he said in what Riley guessed was approval.
“What happened in here?” she wondered, taking in the half dozen open bags of chips, the greasy pizza boxes, and the mountain of dirty dishes.
“Looks like happy hour turned into snacky hour,” he guessed.
“Where is everybody, Burt?” she asked.
The dog, with water still streaming from his mouth, jogged to the swinging door.
“Did Mrs. Penny fall in a well again?” Nick quipped.
The foyer was dark, but there was a strange sound coming from the sunroom. Like the faint grind of a buzz saw or crunch of a wood chipper.
“This feels like a horror movie and we’re about to get chopped up by a deranged serial killer,” Riley observed.
Nick took her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“What if it’s a room full of chickens?”
“Then I’ll use you as a human shield.”
They tiptoed to the doorway, and Nick stealthily reached inside to snap on the lights. “I think I’d rather face a serial killer,” he noted as they took in the scene.
Happy hour had definitely taken a turn.
Empty glasses and bottles of open booze littered every flat surface. More snacks had been massacred in this room. There were two baking sheets dotted with crumbs on the bar and the remains of an exploded foot-long sub on the poker table. Their geriatric roommates were passed out cold.
Mrs. Penny snored on the divan with one arm thrown over her head and one foot on the floor.
Fred, who appeared to be mostly naked, was curled up snoozing peacefully under the poker table, using his toupee as a pillow. Mr. Willicott slept sitting up in an armchair with a cowboy hat perched on his head. Haunted house noises escaped from his open mouth.
Lily was on the couch, wearing a gingham housecoat, a green face mask, and curlers in her hair. Some of the curlers had french fries stuck to them.
Nick looped his hand through Burt’s collar. “No way, buddy. That room is a digestive war zone.”
“I don’t have the energy to get them all to bed,” Riley confessed.
“They’re technically all adults. Let them wake up hungover and sore as hell. Maybe it’ll teach them a lesson,” he said.
Mrs. Penny let out a throat-abrading snore.
“Cute butt,” Lily whispered in her sleep.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” Mr. Willicott wheezed.
Fred rolled over, his toupee stuck to the side of his face like a gigantic hairy spider.
“Let’s go upstairs and pretend we live alone,” Nick said.
“Good call.”
They trooped up to the second floor with Burt. Riley could hear Gabe’s deep timbre coming from his room. “No. You must be the first to hang up… No, you… I am sorry, Wander, but I cannot disconnect our call without suffering physical pain.”
“At least they’re not having phone sex,” Nick said, leading the way to their room on the opposite side of the house.
“What a day,” Riley said as she opened the bedroom door. “From a dead body to attack chickens to mung bean stew.”
“To hot sex in the back seat of a car.” Nick closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
“It’s amazing how a couple of orgasms will put the rest of the day into perspective.”
“What do you say we keep the fun going?” he asked with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “I dug up one of Brian’s old laptops. We could watch one of those Thin Man movies and eat nuggets in bed.”
“You get me. You really get me.”