Chapter 33
Spencer
We are not doing that. We’re not saying our goodbyes or any other combination of words. Not now. Not when a perfect memory is being made.
“Down,” I growl.
My grip is too rough, too tight.
I slam into Riley, down to the hilt, and her face unravels. Her back arches, pushing her perfect tits into my face. Not one to waste an opportunity, I pluck a hard peak between my teeth and watch her squirm.
She’s fucking bliss.
I suckle down hard, lifting her with my hands.
“Feck, Spe—oh my—”
She’s tightening around me already.
“Slow down, Riles.” The gravel in my voice is grating.
She’s trying to rise again, and I hold her down in place.
Dark, fiery eyes meet my own. “I need to move.”
“You move when I say you move, O’Malley.”
Her hands slide into my hair, fisting to the point of pain as she tugs my head back. Her mouth meets my neck a second later.
Hell, a man could get used to this hotheaded, needy woman.
Who am I kidding? I already have.
Everything is sexy as hell. The tiniest sway of her body makes me hard as fuck. I’m balls deep and nowhere near close enough.
Cock throbbing, I hold her down until her frustration turns to biting on my neck and my restraint is threadbare.
I haul her up in one quick motion.
Her mouth falls open, a whimper cascading out.
She is so beautiful.
Her messy bun is losing purchase. I reach up and give it a hand, tugging the scrunchie out and tossing it onto Ivy’s toy pile.
I still as Riley’s dark hair tumbles over her shoulders, spilling down over pert breasts and tickling her ribs.
“Move . . . Spence, I need to move,” she whispers, her back arching, eyes closing, hands tightening in my hair again.
I caress her face, pushing her hair away from her temple. “I know.”
I lift her again, letting her fall onto my cock each time until the both of us are a mess of pants and moans.
Riley’s palms meet my chest as she studies my face. Losing the blanket, she rises and stands. I mourn her warmth instantly. But I am rewarded a beat later when she drops to all fours and spreads her thighs, her finger swiping over her clit.
“Spence, come on.”
I’m on my knees before my brain has time to catch up with what’s happening.
She cants her ass up, widening her thighs, knees sunk into the blanket. Her fingers circle her clit, soft whimpers spilling through her parted lips.
I line up with her slick entrance and slam my body home inside hers.
“Oh feck,” she whines.
My hand is reaching for her hair. She gathers it up and drops it into my waiting palm. Never in the history of man have two people been so fucking compatible.
“Spence,” she breathes, turning to look over her shoulder. “Fuck me like you hate me . . . please.”
No, Riles . . .
“I—”
“God, Spencer, hard, rough. Now.”
I pull out and slam into her like I’m not afraid to break her small frame. I should know better than that by now. Riley O’Malley is as tough as they come. Fiery, stunning, and fucking mine.
I thunder into her, tugging her head back as I go.
She mewls, back curving as pleas tumble from her mouth.
“Fuck. You like that, beautiful?” I growl.
“God yes, don’t you dare stop,” she pants.
The wet slapping sounds echo over the lake. It’s crude. It’s goddamn perfect.
“Spe—”
I lean down, sliding my hand around her throat, and guide her up onto her knees. Hair still tight in my grip, I thunder up into her as her back meets my chest. I love her this close.
Her head turns, her open mouth chasing mine.
“Spence, please cowboy . . .”
“Please what, Riles?”
“Don’t let me go. I can’t do goodbyes.”
Her eyes roll back into her head as she tightens around me.
Don’t let me go . . .
Now?
Forever?
Literally or metaphorically?
Riles, what the hell?
She clamps down on my cock. Wave after wave milks me as heat coils at the base of my spine. My grip in her hair and around her throat is too tight. But my mind is stuck on her last words, and I literally can’t let her go.
Not now.
Not ever.
I explode, filling this little woman I am fucking done for full of my cum.
When fingers curl over my hand at her throat, I loosen my hold.
But I can’t bring myself to untangle our bodies.
Not just yet.
Ives is asleep in the back of the truck as Riley walks the picnic items inside. I’m lifting Ivy out of the truck when Riles calls out.
“Spence, what on earth did you do?”
Hey, what?
I huddle Ives in my arms and head for the cottage. Only to halt one step over the threshold when I find Riley standing in the center of the living room. The living room currently littered with dozens of candles. The hearth has been cleared out and is blazing away. Netflix is on the screen.
And drinks sit in an old rusted bucket full of ice.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I lock the car and shut the front door to keep the cold out. Padding to Ivy’s room, I settle her in her crib before closing the door and sliding my phone from my back pocket.
You both deserve it. Hope it helps.
Brades.
Dammit, bud.
Who would have thought he’s a romantic?
I huff a surprised sound and wander back down the hallway and into the living room to find Riley, standing. Waiting.
I close the distance, and she looks up at me. “Netflix and chill, cowboy?”
I scoop her up into my arms, my signature move at this point, and shuffle to the sofa. As I sink onto the sofa, she slips her seat to the cushion, leaving her legs draped over my lap. I reach for the wine in the bucket and pour her a glass. Four beers sit in the ice for me.
I crack the first one as Riles points the remote at the television.
“What are you in the mood for?” she asks.
“I’m happy if you’re happy,” I say, brushing the hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
She rolls her eyes at me, and I can’t help the smile that flickers over my lips.
“Horror and gore it is, then.” She hits the button on the horror tab.
I jerk in my seat, eyes widening as she cackles and sends the remote to the left, back to comedy.
Smart ass.
Very funny, Riles.
She selects a Jimeoin stand-up special, and we snuggle up.
Riley holds up her glass, and I tap the top of my bottle to it. “Cheers, beautiful.”
“Thanks, Spence,” she breathes.
“What for?” I frown.
“Making my twelve months great. Letting me be part of yours and Ivy’s life, even for a little while.”
My jaw feathers.
“Shut it, O’Malley. Before I’m crying instead of laughing.”
“Didn’t think bull riders would cry . . .” she hums.
Oh baby, you have no idea.
Luckily, she won’t be here to see me fall apart in a few short weeks.
Jimeoin sits on a stool, raising the mic to his lips.
Laughter is the only sound that fills this old cottage living room after a few minutes. Riley leans into my side as she tucks her feet underneath her, and I drape my arm over her and hug her tighter.
Slow down, time. Just this once . . . please.
The set is over by the time I realize Riles is sound asleep against my side.
I pluck up the remote and kill the TV. Standing, I stretch before reaching down and lifting her into my arms. She mutters something, curling into my chest. Like she belongs there.
Her long hair swings over my arm. Wonder where her scrunchie went.
I take my sweet time making my way to our room.
Once over the threshold, I lower her onto the bed and slide her boots off. She’s going to be uncomfortable in those jeans, but over hell’s warmed-up carcass am I waking my girl. I tuck her in and sweep her hair away from her face as she rolls over.
Time to call it a night.
My favorite time of day, when I get to wrap myself around my favorite damn person alive.
Riley is dancing in the kitchen to a song that was apparently her mom’s favorite as she makes Ivy breakfast.
Five hundred miles or whatever by the Proclaimers, or somebody.
“Come on, Ivy girl. Dance, sweet girl. We did it!” She’s holding up her phone where the results of her MBA exams are on the lit-up screen.
She did it. Finished with honors, to boot.
Ivy’s bopping on her feet, just as excited as Riley, despite not understanding why. I make a mental note to add the song to her playlist, which is growing by the day as she and Riley spend their free time listening to tunes while they play on the mat—or anywhere, for that matter.
She squeals. “Dada! Dad, dad, dad . . .”
I’m pulling on my boots, ready to help Brades out for the day. But we will be celebrating this milestone tonight, whichever way my girl chooses.
I stand and shove my hat onto my head. “Come here, Riles.”
She gives me a coy look from the safety of the other side of the kitchen counter. I stalk for her, and she slips around it, trying to escape.
Ivy watches on, delight etched over her little face, Mr. Fluffy strangled in one hand.
Riles tries to dodge back the way she went, and I catch her with one arm. Her head falls back as I take her weight, her laughter filling the space.
“No escaping, baby.” I litter her face with kisses, complete with smacking mwah sounds, as she tries to bat me away with her fine hands. “You’re mine.”
There’s a growl in my voice that must have landed, because her laughter dies out and a shiver crawls over her body as she stands and presses into me.
Palms flattened on my chest, Riley sucks in a breath. “Have a good day, Spence.”
Her throat works as she puts space between us.
I get it. She doesn’t want to talk about her impending departure.
Me either.
She leaves in three days and, fuck, I’m only just keeping it together. I’m keeping as damn busy as I can to take my mind off that very fact.
I kiss her forehead. “See you tonight to celebrate.”
A sad smile tugs on her mouth. “Sure.”
“Bye bye, Ives.” I mess up her hair, and she shakes her head, slapping my wrist.
So much like her ma—
I swallow hard and make my exit before I say something insane.
Right now, I need to put my hands to use to calm my racing, reeling mind.
Walking out into the milky sunshine and throwing my coat on, I find Brades by his busted old pickup.
The tray is filled with fencing wire, shovels, and whatever else.
Good.
I’m going to need some hard-as-fuck labor to wade my way through what life expects me to live through.