chapter eighteen
RILEY
If all goes to plan, she’ll say yes to kissing me again. And the odds are, the more I ask, the better chance I have.
I’m desperate to taste her lips, feel her warmth, and confirm our kiss on stage and what it did to me wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.
Because, if our next kiss is as mind-blowing as the first, I can’t possibly ignore what it could mean.
Alternatively, if kissing her again sparks nothing—which I highly doubt will be the case—I’ll back down and stop pushing her, as I’m not about a one-night stand, irrespective of what she thinks.
I’ll be her roommate, her friend, and nothing more.
I’ll be the perfect gentleman.
When I kissed her knuckles on the bridge, I thought I was finally in luck, that she’d give in, say yes, and then press her lips to mine.
She looked interested, and it was a romantic location after all, perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
But she hasn’t said more than a few words to me since, and now I’m worried I pushed a little too hard, too soon.
“Idiot!” I murmur to myself as I tie the laces of my shoe.
I’m in over my head; I just don’t want to accept it. I’ve never “chased” a woman, only a girl. And back then, I wasn’t much older than sixteen.
You don’t have a clue, dickhead. You should stop embarrassing yourself. Save some face before it’s too late.
Standing up from sitting on the edge of my bed, the door to the bathroom opens, and Riles steps out in the evening dress she unpacked the day we met, the purple satin material skimming to just above the floor, splitting like a curtain and falling on either side of her leg.
My composure lodges in my throat, and I try to swallow, my throat thick as my eyes climb her body to her bare shoulders, her hair tied up, showcasing her stunning face.
All thoughts of stopping my pursuit whisk past me and out the door.
Embarrass yourself, dickhead. Do whatever it takes.
“Uh… would you mind helping zip me up?” she asks, voice timid as she clutches the dress to her chest.
“S-Sure.” I clear my throat. “Of course.”
She turns her back to me, her smooth skin a magnet to rival the earth’s, gravity pulling my fingers toward her. I reach out to clasp the zipper but ball my fists instead, clenching them before relaxing. “You look… incredible.”
“Thank you.” She glances over her shoulder. “You look very handsome too.”
Scrubbing my hands together, I warm them up then take hold of the zipper and slowly pull it higher, itching to kiss her shoulders and neck but not daring to, instead gliding the tab along the track until it’s secure. “There you go.”
She spins to face me, her steel-gray eyes sparkling with amusement. “Thank you.”
I run my hand through my hair and step back, needing distance to prevent me from taking her into my arms and proving our lips, together, do fucking shift the earth on its axis.
“You want to kiss me again, don’t you?” she asks seductively.
My dick stirs within my pants, and I’m about to say “hell yes” and pull her to me when she shoves my chest and laughs.
“Just kidding.” She twirls back around like a stormy tornado and collects her lanyard from her bed. “We’re gonna be late, and I hate being late.”
Fuck me! Did she just play me at my own game?
Blinking as she struts past in her hot-as-fuck heels, her temptress perfume intoxicating me through my nostrils, it almost strips me of what sense I have left.
“Riley! Are you coming?”
I look up to where she impatiently waits by the door, which is propped open by her arm and hip.
Am I coming?
If I stand here a second longer with her, I will be. I’ll be coming for her, in her, and all over her.
An animalistic growl rumbles up my throat, so I force it back down and choke out, “Yes.”
We join Hugo, Manny, the family from Ohio, and Ben in the dining room for the formal evening, the men dressed in black suits—with the exception of Hugo in red velvet—and the women in evening gowns.
I’ve been to my fair share of charity gala events with Krystal, organized by her law firm, so I’m no stranger to the glitz, glamour, and over-the-top bullshit.
“Evening, everyone,” I say while pushing Riles’s chair in for her before taking my seat.
“Long time no see,” Hugo says, raising his glass of wine.
I acknowledge him with a friendly nod then turn to Ben, ready to ask him what he’s been up to.
His jaw slackens, his eyes greedily devouring Riles. “You lucky—”
“Don’t,” I warn.
“But—”
“Don’t.”
He drops his hand to his lap, cups his junk, and rearranges it.
“Will you control yourself?” I hiss under my breath. “You’re not fifteen.”
He quivers and neighs like a horse before waving a waiter down. “Give me the strongest drink you’ve got. I’m gonna need it. And anything else for these fine people here.”
Impressed he didn’t say something along the lines of “And get these bastards a drink too,” I inform the waiter I’d like a beer, then rest my hand on Ben’s shoulder, thanking him for his generosity with a squeeze. “So what’d you get up to today?”
“Buried myself balls-deep.”
I remove my hand. “Charming.”
“That’s me. Prince effing Charming.”
“You’re not Prince Charming!” the Ohio daughter exclaims. “You’re too fat.”
“Avery!” her mother scolds. “Don’t be rude.”
Ben points at the girl. “So are y—”
I punch his thigh, eyes wide and piercing.
“Motherf—!” He frowns at me, then shoots Avery a challenging smile. “So are youuu… going to draw me a picture of what Prince Charming does look like?”
“Yes.” She flips over a page of her sketchbook and begins scribbling like a little maniac. “And he won’t look like you.”
Ben pokes his tongue out at her, and she returns the gesture.
“Sooo,” Riles says, glaring at Ben before turning toward Avery’s mother. “Have you enjoyed the cruise so far, Kathy?”
“I didn’t like Greenland. It smelled fishy, and there were too many bugs and dogs. Dirty place, really.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. I loved Greenland. I got to fly over a glacier, which I’m still pinching myself over.” Riles unfolds her napkin and lays it across her lap. “I agree with you about the bugs though, and I’m sure Riley does too. He ingested some.”
“Not voluntarily,” I add.
“You weren’t the only one,” Hugo says. “Manny ate a few too.”
“A few? More like a few hundred.” He takes a long sip of his wine. “I can still taste them.”
Yeah, you and me both, buddy.
“So what’s everyone’s plans in Reykjavik tomorrow?” Riles asks.
“We’re taking a tour to the Strokkur geyser,” Kathy says, her eyes scanning the dining room for a waiter. “By bus. I hope it has heating.”
Her son mumbles, “Boring.”
I’d like to tell him there are many not-so-fortunate children around the globe who wouldn’t find the things he does “boring,” but I don’t. The ungrateful little shit will learn that lesson at some point.
“We’re spending the day in the city,” Hugo offers. “What about you?”
“Riley and I are going to the Blue Lagoon,” Riles says. “I can’t wait. It’s supposed to be stunning.”
“Oh, it is. We visited there the last time we were in Iceland. Smells awful, but you get used to it after a while.”
Manny wrinkles his nose. “Awful is putting it mildly.”
Great! Sounds like will be visiting Satan’s ass.
Riles winces. “Thanks for the warning.”
Our drinks arrive in no time, so I lift my glass at Ben. “What about you? What are your plans for tomorrow?”
“I have tickets to the Iceland and Team USA FIBA friendly.”
“No shit? In Reykjavik?” I prompt.
“Yeah.”
My sports-loving heart deflates. I’d much rather see that than a smelly lagoon.
“Is DeRozan on the USA roster this year?” Riles asks.
“He is, love.”
“I like him. Great player.”
“You would say that. He’s almost a bigger ball hog than MJ.”
“Ben,” she chastises through a sigh, “are we really going to do this again?”
He lifts his drink and winks at her. “Yes, love, we are.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
She sighs again. “Fine. Answer me this. Who was the best team during MJ’s reign?”
He scoffs. “The Bulls, of course. But that doesn’t make MJ the GOAT.”
“I’m not finished.” She raises her finger, silencing him. “Who was the best team during Kobe’s reign?”
“Lakers.”
“Correct.” She leans forward, her pretty eyes intense. “And who is the best team during LeBron’s reign?”
Ben opens his mouth but then closes it again, eyes narrowed.
“That’s right—the Warriors.” She leans back in her seat again, sips her Cosmo, then elegantly places it on the table. “Does Lebron play for the Warriors, pray tell? No, he doesn’t.”
I smirk; she’s got him.
“LeBron is the GOAT,” the Ohio teenage son mumbles.
“See?” Ben snaps his fingers at him. “Even the kid knows his shit.”
“Hey, Zach,” Riles says. “Do you know who Kareem Abdul-Jabar is?”
He looks up from his screen and shrugs.
She picks up her glass, sips her Cosmo once more, and mumbles, “I rest my case.”
“You rest nothing, love. No one born this century knows who Kareem is.”
“But someone ‘who knows their shit’ would, and clearly, Riles knows her shit.”
Ben snaps his head to me. “Whose side are you on?”
“Hers.” I drape my arm over the back of Riles’s chair, purposely cementing my choice.
He scoffs. “Yeah. I can see why.”
“Okay,” Hugo announces, clapping his hands together. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Yes. Let’s do that.” Kathy massages her temple. “All this talk of basketball gives me a headache.”
“I’m hungry,” Zach whines.
His father glares at the waitstaff. “That’s because they’re taking their sweet time.”
“I agree,” Kathy says, elevating her ass off the seat as is she’s preparing to tackle a waiter.
Just when I think this dinner couldn’t possibly get any funnier, Avery lifts her drawing of a stick figure with an enormous crown and shoves it toward Ben. “That’s Prince Charming. Not you.”
He grins at her. “Kid, I have a big crown too.”
I facepalm. Jesus!
“You do not,” Avery argues.
“Do so.”
“Princes are handsome and rich. You’re not.”
“I fucking am.”
“Ben!” we all cry.
“What?” he murmurs, sulking. “I am!”