Chapter 5
Riley
Is it possible to inhale soup, and somehow, that makes you lose your ever-loving mind?
I think that's what happened because there's no way I'm pressed against Mac Hammer's truck while he kisses me and grinds his erection into my stomach.
I thought that kiss in high school was the best kiss of my life, not that it mattered that it was the first kiss of my life. I’ve compared every single kiss since to it, and nothing has even come close.
But this kiss?
This kiss is somehow more confident, light years better.
Unlike our seven minutes spent in heaven all those years ago, his hands bracket my face, fingers tangling in my hair rather than roaming along my body. It's somehow sexier, and that's saying something, considering how on fire my body was back then.
His forehead presses to mine as he releases my lips, and I have to swallow down yet another moan because this man lights my damn fire. He always has, even the times I thought I hated him for being so cavalier and disregarding me.
Maybe I'll spend a little time reflecting on all the things I could do differently that will keep me from feeling like this was a mistake at a later date, but I'm not going to stop things now.
"You're sure about this?" he whispers, the hint of beer on his breath somehow pleasant and not at all off-putting.
"Are you?" I ask because I didn't use my words the time before this, and maybe if I had, things could've been different.
What would our lives look like now if I had just chatted with him in that closet rather than stepping in closer and pressing my lips to his?
It took every ounce of courage to do that that day, not to mention the pep talk I gave myself, before sneaking out of the house to go to the party. I wasn't a risk taker. I didn't do things that would land me in hot water with my parents, but I was tired of being the goody-two-shoes. I wanted to live on the edge. I would've given him whatever he wanted that night, but other than immaculate kisses and a few brushes of his hand over my breast, he didn't try anything further.
I should've known when the timer went off outside of the closet, and he simply pulled back and walked out, that things weren't going to go in my favor. But I was too stuck in the fantasy of making out with the boy I'd had a crush on since I realized boys weren't disgusting creatures that needed longer showers and some lessons on proper manners.
"Riley," he whispers, his nose trailing down my cheek.
"Hmm?"
"I can't wait to get you inside, to get inside you, but you have to be sure."
I pull in a deep breath, that whisper of history telling me that it's probably best if I leave, but the girl who wanted everything and got nothing last time speaks up.
"What happens when we go inside?" I ask, licking my lips because they still tingle from our kiss.
"Anything, everything," he says, his fingers in my hair gripping me just a hint tighter, and it sends a thrill of anticipation racing down my spine. "You won't be getting much sleep tonight."
He takes a step back, releasing me and breaking all contact with my body, and that lack of confidence I had in high school to approach him a second time begins to bubble back up.
But when I go to dip my head, breaking eye contact with him, he curls that same finger right under my chin, forcing me to look into his stupidly handsome face.
Now is not the time to have a crisis, Riley.
I pull in a deep breath. "Lead the way."
His grin is quick, a hint of mischievousness filling his pretty green eyes, but instead of grabbing my hand and tugging me toward his expansive front porch, he squats, placing his shoulder into my middle, and throws me over his shoulder.
My lungs seize, air rushing from my lungs.
"Mac!" I scream, slapping at his ass. "Put me down. I'm too heavy for this shit!"
"You're fucking perfect," he says while taking the front steps two at a time, as if he isn't carrying me.
I press my palms against his thighs, lifting my body up some so I can see what's going on, but I only get a quick glimpse of the rocking chairs on his front porch and some sparse Christmas decorations. The man is a bachelor and owns a construction company, so the lit-up Santa on the far end of the porch seems a little out of place.
I hear a beep, and in seconds, he's stepping inside. The warm air that swarms around us is a relief to the cool air outside, and it tangles with the heat in my cheeks at him carrying me.
A second after he closes the front door, he slides me down the front of his body, and I swear I feel every damn inch of the man's torso and everything below it before my feet hit the ground.
Awkwardness begins to settle inside of me, so I do the only thing I can think of. I spin and walk a few feet deeper into his home. It's beautiful, and although I've driven by here in years past, I never expected it to be so pretty on the inside. The outside is always kept immaculate, but I guess that's the expectation if people look at his house as to the quality of work they'll get if they hire him.
"This place is beautiful," I whisper, but he grabs my hand before I can step away further.
"Thanks," he says as he gives my arm a little jerk, landing me right back against his chest. "You can take a look around during the intermission."
"Inter—"
His lips are on mine again before I can question him. He's carnal, needy, as if desperate for something he's been missing.
I know better than to think this is anything other than scratching an itch, but I can't help where my mind takes me.
"Let's go," he pants when the kiss breaks.
He slides his hand down my arm until our fingers are tangled, and then he drags me toward the massive stairs leading to the second floor.
I huff a laugh as I nearly lose my footing with the urgency in my steps.
"Slow down, Romeo, I'm a foot shorter than you."
He pauses, turning back toward me, and he has that same glint in his eyes that he had when he threw me over his shoulder.
"Nope," I say, holding my hands up. "I can walk."
The last damn thing we need is toppling backward on the stairs and breaking both our necks.
"In here," he says as he enters his room, not wasting a second before angling toward the en suite.
I don't have but a second to look around his room. The massive bed against the far wall is expected because he's a huge guy, but the plaid comforter and throw pillows seem a little out of place .
"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask as I step into the bathroom behind him. I’m struck a little stupid by how he just grips his t-shirt at the back of his neck before pulling it over his head.
"What? Seriously? No, I don't have a girlfriend. Why the hell would you even think that?"
He continues to get undressed, his adept hands unbuckling his belt before working on the snap and zipper of his jeans.
"You have throw pillows on your bed. That seems like something a girlfriend would do," I say, hitching my thumb over my shoulder.
"They came with the bedding kit," he mutters. "Are you getting naked?"
My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. I mean, logistically, I knew I was going to come out of some of my clothes, but the way he asks it makes it sound like he fully expected me to strip to my skin right here, in this harsh light.
"What?"
"Naked, Riley," he says as he kicks off his boots before shoving his jeans and boxers down to his ankles in one swoop of motion.
"Holy shit," I whisper, both surprised with the speed this is going and a little entranced by his body.
His smile is wide when he pulls his belt free of his jeans and empties his pockets into a small basket on the bathroom counter.
"You're naked."
"And you're not," he says. "I didn't get a chance to shower after work before heading to the bar. Are you joining me?"
"I showered," I say stupidly.
I literally had a list when I was younger of all the things I wanted to experience with this man, but it never even occurred to me to add take a shower together. Maybe it was my own naivety, but I feel like I need to reevaluate that list.
"I'll let you wash my back," he says, his smile growing wider.
I take a step back, crossing my arms over my middle. "I don't think that's a good idea."
His head tilts, eyes dropping to my arms.
"That's not going to be a thing," he says, pointing to me. "We aren't even going to talk about it.”
He steps closer to me, his hands unfolding my arms before reaching for the bottom hem of my shirt. With not an ounce of flair, he pulls it over my head.
"Mmm. This is going to be so much fun."
His thumb skates over the tip of my breast, and when I try to look away from him, that same damn finger curls under my chin.
His lips meet mine, a little softer, a little more reverent, as his arms circle my body. Maybe when I'm alone, I'll have some time to spend wondering just how many women he's been with that he can literally snap his fingers and get my bra open. Now, I'm too focused on trying not to reach my hands down and wrap them around his cock, seeing as it's pressing against my bare stomach right now.
I could argue that he doesn't like what he sees, but the dampness leaking from the tip of him is some level of proof that he is.
"And these," he says, breaking the kiss as he pulls my bra off and lets it fall to our feet before reaching for the button on my jeans. "Unless you want them to get wetter."
My eyes widen, embarrassment making my face flame, but I clear my throat, wanting to challenge him more than anything.
"What makes you think I'm wet?"
"This little mouth," he says, running his fingers over my lips before moving them down my body. "Doesn't make the kind of noises you were making unless this pussy is wet."
My mouth hangs open, shocked when he slips his hand, palm down against my body, and slides past the fabric of my panties until the tip of one finger is parting my lower lips.
"Jesus," he whispers. "This is going to be so much fun."
His lips trail down my neck, his hot tongue tasting every inch of my skin as he lowers to a crouch, taking my jeans down to the floor with him.
I fight the urge to cover myself further, but he lifts my foot, nearly knocking me off balance, and it forces me to place my hands on his shoulders.
He pulls off one boot before pulling the other off, his hands then working to get my jeans free.
"I knew it," he says, and I swear I nearly bolt for the door when I look down and see him staring right at the apex of my thighs.
"This looks enticing," he says, his tone worshipping as he presses his thumb to the damp spot on my panties.
My knees almost buckle with the attention.
"Are you just going to torture me all night?" I ask, looking up at the ceiling and questioning what it is about me that has me in this room with him tonight when it should probably be anyone else.
"I think you like it," he says, pressing a wet kiss to my inner thigh .
I moan like I've never been touched before, and that only serves to make his smile go wider. I have to settle on feeling it on my skin because I'd never be brave enough to look down and witness it.
"Mmm."
I swear I'm going to hear that sound in my dreams for the rest of my life.
I don't know where the courage comes from, but I chance a look down at him just in time to watch him run the tip of his nose right up the center of me.
"My God," I groan.
"Shower with me," he says as he stands, that thick cock of his once again brushing against my rounded belly as he leans in for another kiss.
"Yes," I answer, a little out of it right now.
He grabs my hand and walks me toward the most luxurious shower I've ever seen.
"When can I move in?" I ask, looking around the thing with wonder.
He freezes, giving my hand a little squeeze before releasing it completely to turn on the water.
"Riley," he says, his face serious when he turns back to face me. "You know what tonight is, right?"
I tilt my head, ready for him to insult me somehow or call this some sort of pity fuck.
"I want to spend hours worshipping your body tonight, but this isn't the start of anything else."
I blink at him. I knew full well when I walked out of the bar tonight that we weren't going to fall in love and spend the rest of our lives raising babies.
Has he lost his mind?
I cackle like a fool at the seriousness in his eyes.
"What's happening right now?" he asks, clearly confused.
"I like your shower," I say, reaching for the knobs of the showerhead on the other side because, of course, the man would have more than one showerhead and those jet things that take care of lower back pains. "I wasn't being serious. It's you who needs to be reminded that this is a one-time thing. Not me. I know exactly what this is."
His head tilts further, and a slow smile spreads across his face as he inches closer. "And why do I need the reminder?"
I shrug as I lift my hair off my neck and twist it into a knot. "You'll become obsessed with me. Not the other way around."
"Saying you got something special? "
"I know I do," I say, hoping he can't read through the false show of bravado. It would only take one look at my trembling hands for him to read me like a damn book.
Instead of pressing his body against mine once again like I so desperately want him to, he grabs his bodywash, lathering it in his hands before rubbing it all over his body.
I reach for the bottle, my hands still shaking, and pour some into my palm.
"That back?" I ask, needing a minute's reprieve without him looking at me.
He turns, his muscles continuing to bunch and ripple when I press my soapy hands to his shoulders before running them over his back. His body is warm and feels like heaven under my palms. I curl my fingers, loving the hiss of sound that rushes out of his mouth when I scrape my nails down his skin.
In the next breath, he spins, his body inching forward as if chasing mine when I take a step back. He looms over me, and it feels like it's almost too much, like no matter what our agreement was, this will leave me with scars that every man who comes after him will question. At the same time, I can't seem to walk away. I don't know that I really want to, considering that the pain may actually be well worth the pleasure he'll make me feel until the sun comes up.
"These tits, Riley," he moans, his lips at my throat, hands full of my breasts.
His mouth lowers, lips trailing a line down my throat and chest until he wraps his hot mouth on the very tip of me. His arm encircles my waist at the same time as if he knows I'll crumble to the shower floor if he doesn’t help me stand.
He pays a lot of attention to one breast, and by the time he moves to the other, I already have that pull right in the center of me that makes itself very well known that this is going to be a night that goes down in the history books.
I expect him to lift his head, press his lips to mine, and urge my leg up onto his hip, but he goes further down, rough hands abrasive on my skin as he lowers to his knees.
And then his mouth is there, right in the middle of me, tongue thickening as he runs it up my slit.
It's my turn to tangle my fingers in his hair, and he looks up, smiling at me. As if he couldn't get any more devastating to my starved body, he lifts my leg, urging it over his shoulder .
It opens me up to him, and I watch, a hundred percent entranced, when he drinks the water from my body before spearing me with his tongue.
The heat of it makes me shudder. His grip on my legs is sure to leave bruises and I swear I'll be able to connect them and spell out Riley Hammer before it's all said and done.
"Mac," I pant, my body already threatening to fly over that edge.
When his fingers get involved, one long, thick digit sliding under his tongue and into the middle of me, I whimper, the sound of it echoing in the shower.
It isn't until I look down, watching him lap at my sensitive flesh, that I see his other hand. If there was any doubt in my mind that he's enjoying this possibly as much as I am, it vanishes the second I see that strong arm of his working, hand gripping and stroking the length of his cock. He twists at the tip of himself, squeezing a second before moving it back down, and it's the sexiest, most masculine thing I've ever seen in my life.
"Mac," I hiss just as my body convulses, my core clamping down on his finger as his assault on my clit continues.
I nearly scream my pleasure, but I can't seem capable of pulling enough air into my lungs to make it possible.
I fist his hair, pulling at him, begging him to stop, but he doesn't pull his mouth away until I can no longer state my full name.
He swipes his tongue up my center one more time, and my body jerks once again. His smile is vibrant, his hand still working his cock.
"That was perfect," I pant as he leans in close.
His eyes dip to my mouth, and I can sense that he's asking a question. After what he just gave to me, how could I ever deny him?
His lips press to mine, orgasm-coated tongue sweeping against mine, and I hum into the kiss, wondering how weird it is that I actually like the way I taste on his lips.
He moans into my mouth when I run my hand down his torso and wrap my hand around his cock.