Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

RYLAND

“Thanks for watching her,” I say to Aubree.

“Not a problem at all. Wyatt was excited when you asked.” She leans in. “I think their bond is getting strong. She might like Wyatt more than me.”

Normally, I would chuckle, but I don’t have it in me. “Yeah, I don’t blame her.”

“Hey,” Aubree says, mouth agape as she pushes at my chest. “You’re rude.”

“Just telling it like I see it.” I lean against the doorframe of the front door and let out a sigh.

That must clue in Aubree because she tilts her head to the side and asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” I say.

“Okay, what can I do?”

“Exactly what you’re doing. Take Mac for the night. I just need to clear my head.”

“Are you going to be alone?”

I shake my head just as Abel and Hayes pull up. “No, Abel and Hayes will be here.”

She glances over her shoulder and then back at me. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to invite Wyatt to a guys’ night.”

“I would have, but Mac insisted on playing with Uncle Wyatt, and I wasn’t going to tell her no.”

“Fair, but just don’t forget about him. He can be sensitive.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re talking about Wyatt. He writes about murdering people for a living.”

Aubree scoffs. “That’s fictional, and I bet if you asked him, he’d have marginal remorse about murdering.”

“Yeah?” I ask and then call out to Wyatt, who’s playing with Mac in the front yard. “Wyatt, do you ever feel bad about the people you unalive in your books?”

He continues to gallop like a goddamn horse, arms up and everything. “I live for it.”

I turn back to Aubree with an I told you so look.

“Well . . . just keep him in mind next time.”

“I will.” I then walk down the porch stairs and up to Mac, who is asking Wyatt to canter. “You have fun with Uncle Wyatt and Aunt Aubree tonight, okay? And no negotiating about bedtime, understood?”

“I know,” she says in that four-year-old voice that tells me she’s over the parenting and knows everything there is to know about the world.

I pick up Chewy Charles and Chewy Chondra—who are friends again—and I say, “Make sure Mac is a good listener.”

“I’m always a good listener,” she says even though that is the biggest lie of them all.

“Okay. Give me a hug.” I kneel, and she launches into my arms, squeezing me tight.

“I love you, Uncle Ry Ry.” This. This is the only good thing that came from losing Cassidy. Only this. Her unconditional, unrestricted love and affection.

I press my head against hers and say, “Love you, too, kiddo.”

When I release her, I stand and watch as she takes Wyatt’s hand and he brings her over to the car to get buckled up.

Aubree walks by with Mac’s overnight bag. “Have fun.”

“Thanks. Spoil her.”

“Always do.” Aubree winks, then she takes off as Hayes and Abel walk up with beer and pizza in hand.

“You look like shit,” Hayes says, passing by.

“Real gaunt-like,” Abel adds.

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically as I follow them into the house.

They pause in the entry, and both look around. They take in the fully packed boxes, the askew furniture that isn’t entirely in place, and the empty, barren walls.

“What the hell have you been doing?” Abel asks. “It doesn’t even look like anything has changed since you moved in.”

“Not true,” Hayes says as he points at an empty box that’s tipped over and being used as a barn for the Chewys. “That box of blankets is empty.”

“I haven’t had time or energy to do anything with the house just yet. I have to give it some thought as to what I want to do first.”

“Yeah, making yourself a vision board?” Abel asks as we head into the kitchen, where we put the pizza and beer on the table. I grab a roll of paper towels and toss them beside the food as we all take a seat.

Hayes flips open the pizza box and starts handing out giant slices to everyone.

If you had told me a year ago that I would be sitting at a kitchen table with Abel and Hayes, sharing a pizza amicably, I would have told you, you’d lost your goddamn mind. When we were younger, Hayes and I were best friends. Inseparable. Along with Abel, we did everything together.

But when I went off to try my shot at the big leagues, my girlfriend, Samantha, who I left behind, got pregnant. She told me Hayes was the father. And that effectively ended our friendship. It wasn’t until a few months ago that I found out the truth. Hayes wasn’t the father, but another guy named Nick. Hayes never cleared the air because he thought if I could believe he’d do that to me, then I didn’t deserve the truth.

The only reason we’re friends now is because he fell in love with my sister Hattie.

But now that he’s back in my life, I’ve never been more grateful for a friend. He’s the same guy he was over a decade ago. Loyal, trusting, and passionate about the things he loves, my sister being one of them.

“So . . . are you making a vision board?” Abel asks, really pressing.

“I barely have time to make my own bed, do you think I have time for a vision board?” I ask as I open my beer and take a drink.

Hayes settles for a soda from my fridge, probably acting as the DD for Abel. I know he used to drink a lot—more than he probably cares to admit—but ever since he’s been with Hattie, that’s changed. He’s found his groove again with his music. He’s happier, lighter, and fun to be around when he’s not jabbing me with playful insults.

“I can get Hattie to make one for you,” Hayes says.

I shake my head. “No fucking thank you. You know how she is. The minute you give her any sort of power, she becomes commander in charge, and I don’t need her taking control of this house. I want . . . I want to do it myself.”

Hayes nods. “I get that. Any plans yet?”

“Nope,” I say as I take a large bite of pizza. “Been dealing with some shit.”

“Does this have any reason as to why you brought us here tonight?” Abel asks.

“Yeah,” I reply as I lean back in my chair. “You know the new assistant who was hired for me?” They both nod their heads. “It’s Gabby.”

“Who’s Gabby?” Hayes asks.

“Are we supposed to know her?” Abel adds.

“My tenant and the one-night stand I had.”

Abel sits taller. “Wait, what?”

“Are you serious?” Hayes asks, his eyes widening.

“Why the hell would I joke around about this? Yes, I’m serious. The night that we were together, she was here for her interview. She knew who I was the entire time.”

“Oh shit,” Hayes mumbles.

“How did you find out?” Abel asks.

“The principal ‘introduced’ us. Imagine my surprise when I found out she’s who I have to work with.”

“Jesus.” Abel takes a pull of his beer.

“Doesn’t help that the other day, when she was using my shower because hers is broken, we fucked again.”

Abel nearly spits out his beer but quickly holds it in, letting only a little dribble past his lips. “What? I thought you were against being distracted.”

“Yeah, well, I had a shit day, and she was there, fresh from the fucking shower, and I was tempted. I gave in to temptation, and I’m not lying when I say I would probably fucking do it again . . . and again.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin.

Hayes sets his piece of pizza on the lid of the box. “I’m confused. So this girl you had a one-night stand with, who is now your tenant, is also your assistant coach and I’m assuming co-worker? And you’re mad at her, but you want to fuck her?”

“Yup,” I answer simply. “And not just mad. Pissed. She lied to me.”

“Yeah, that kind of sucks,” Abel says. “But, I mean, can you really do anything about it?”

“No,” I answer. “I have zero control over anything, and you know how . . . how out of my mind that makes me feel.” I take a deep breath. “I can’t stop this itching, nagging feeling that keeps pulsing through me. It’s keeping me up at night. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make this right.”

“Is there even a way to make it right?” Abel asks. “I mean, it’s not like you could have her fired. Not only is that unethical but she also doesn’t deserve to lose her job because the circumstances are awkward.”

“He’s right,” Hayes says. “Plus, knowing you, it might temporarily solve an issue, but you would live with that guilt for a very long time.” Not to mention, I’ll be without an assistant coach, something I desperately need. Fuck, this is complicated.

Abel nods in agreement. “You might want to come off as some tough asshole who doesn’t give a shit, but we all know that’s not the case at all.”

“So then what the hell do I do?”

“What’s bugging you the most?” Hayes asks. “That she lied? That you have no control? That all you want to do is fuck her again?”

“All of it,” I say as I drag my hand over my face in frustration.

They both go silent.

After a few seconds, I say, “Do I just act like everything is fine?”

“Acting like everything is fine has never worked in the history of humankind,” Abel says. “I think it’s one of those things where you’ll have to talk to her.”

“Yeah, set aside the anger and talk to her,” Hayes agrees.

“That’s easier said than done,” I mutter just as the back door to the kitchen opens, and she pops in, her robe in hand.

When she notices us all at the table, she pauses. “Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company. I can shower another time.”

“No, it’s fine,” Abel says. “We’re just over here, chatting about you.”

I quickly give my friend a murderous glare, and he just shrugs unapologetically.

Taking the bait, she leans against the kitchen counter. “What is he saying?”

Abel doesn’t even skip a beat as he says, “That you tricked him, knew who he was all along, and that you lied. He’s also struggling with how to handle you since he likes you, so . . . yeah, that about sums it up.”

“You forgot the feeling-out-of-control thing,” Hayes mutters.

“Oh, right. He feels out of control about the entire situation. Something you need to know about our friend here is that he doesn’t like to feel out of control.”

“Abel,” I growl.

“It’s true. You see, he didn’t have the best childhood?—”

“That’s enough.” I turn toward her. “You can go take your shower.”

She doesn’t move. No, she continues to lean against the counter, holding her robe close to her. “Well, did he tell you that the reason I initially lied to him was because I knew who he was when I saw him at the bar and I was mad because he didn’t show up to the interview I had for the job and I thought that he was slighting me? Did he also tell you that I didn’t think I would get the job, so I thought a one-night stand would be fine? And did he also tell you that I had no idea he was buying this house, but I took the apartment because I could afford it, and it was better than living in a cardboard box down on the beach?”

Both Abel and Hayes stare at me. “He failed to mention such things.”

“Yeah, dude, that’s vital information that completes the story,” Hayes says. “That’s why there are always two sides.”

Buying into this insanity, I say, “Well, what she’s failing to mention is that the other night we had sex even though she knew that she was going to have to work with me very closely, not only in the same education department but on the field as well. She made it exponentially more uncomfortable.”

“Uh.” She holds up a finger. “Did you tell them that you were looking all sad and distraught?—”

“Because they were giving you my office, and I had no control over it,” I shoot back.

“I didn’t know that,” she defends. “And you were quick to move in close to me when I was talking to you that night. And you were the one who undid my robe. You made the move, and I think we both know at this point that we both find each other extremely attractive. Therefore, keeping our distance takes a lot of willpower that I didn’t possess that night, especially when you looked all sad and gloomy.”

“He does have a pretty sad and gloomy look,” Abel says.

“I think you tried offering him a hand job once when he was sad and gloomy,” Hayes says.

“Not fucking helpful,” I say as my two best friends laugh together.

“You’re right.” Abel straightens up. “Being that we have heard both sides, I think the solution is . . . you’re both adults, so why not just call it a miscommunication—something everyone hates—and move on from here?”

“I agree,” Hayes says as he sips from his soda. “You’re both in the wrong.”

“How the hell am I in the wrong?” I ask, pointing at my chest.

“By being all butt hurt about the job. Dude, you can’t do anything about it, so just move on and find out what her strengths are. You don’t even know if she’ll be a good asset. You’re just over here bitching about how you had no say in it. If she sucks, then you can bring that to the board’s attention. At least find out if she’s trash before you start complaining.”

“Valid,” Abel says.

“For the record, I’m not trash,” she says.

“And as for the lying, I mean, get over it, dude. She was protecting herself.” Hayes shrugs. “We all do it, and she didn’t think she would get the job. Also, are you really going to complain about the sex?”

“Yeah, are you?” Abel asks.

“He wasn’t complaining when he was thrusting inside me,” Gabby mutters, causing both Abel and Hayes to laugh.

I stare them down, letting them know that I don’t think it’s funny at all.

“Why don’t you just go take your shower?” I say, wanting her to leave.

“Sure . . . want to join me?” When I look at her, she wiggles her brows.

I don’t find it funny.

Not even in the fucking slightest because . . . yeah, I would love to join her.

I’d love to see the water sluice down her wet tits.

I’d love to press her up against the tile and tease her.

Tease her until she’s breathless, then I’d stop.

I’d torture her.

Edge her.

Make her watch me as I stroke myself over and over again until I come all over her beautiful body.

Abel shoves at my shoulder. “Yeah, why don’t you join her? We have no problem leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I say in a murderous tone.

“Ooo, looks like we’re in trouble,” Abel says to Hayes.

“Yup,” Hayes says as he bites into his crust.

“Well, I’ll give you guys some privacy, then,” Gabby says. “Enjoy the lecture.” She takes off into the bathroom.

That’s when I turn to my friends, who are wearing smirks that border maniacal. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I knew he was going to open with that question,” Hayes says.

“Dude, me too,” Abel says, and to my dismay, they offer each other a fist bump.

“I’m going to fucking lose it on you.”

Abel rolls his eyes. “Ryland, chill. We’re just having fun. Maybe join in.”

“How can I join in when?—”

“When what?” Hayes asks. “A hot girl is asking for your attention? I know you feel wronged, but I’m having a hard time trying to figure out why this is so bad.”

“Same,” Abel says.

“She lied and used me,” I say, flummoxed that they don’t get this.

“It’s not like she told you a huge lie. She didn’t think she would see you again, so she fabricated a little lie to encourage the one-night stand. And well, I don’t blame her for not telling the truth right away about the coaching thing with the way you’ve been stomping around,” Hayes says.

“I agree,” Abel kicks in. “She probably didn’t want to deal with your grumpy ass.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“Right now, you are,” Abel counters. “I mean, sure, does it suck that you didn’t get to have a say in who was hired as your assistant? Yeah, it does. But you can’t do anything about it. The decision was made. Now you have to learn how to deal, and showering with Gabby seems like the perfect way to do it.”

“I’m not going to have a fuck fest with my assistant coach,” I say. “That’s the worst idea. You don’t fuck your co-workers.”

Hayes shrugs. “I don’t know. I fucked my assistant, and it turned out great for me.” He smirks when I give him a murderous glare.

“That’s my fucking sister you’re talking about,” I say.

“Yeah, I know.” He shoves the rest of his crust in his mouth.

“I think what we’re trying to say is that you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Abel says. “And for someone who’s dealt with blow after blow in his life, why not take advantage of something good?”

“I have a hard time seeing how this will turn out okay,” I say. “I can’t . . . I can’t be distracted. Too much is on the line, and she’s a distraction, a huge one. I’m already having a hard time keeping my eyes off her. The last thing I need is to be thinking about her while I’m trying to coach.”

“Maybe think about it this way,” Abel says, leaning forward on the table. “You don’t fuck her every chance you get, you put up a wall and keep her at a distance, never feeding into the urge you have so when you’re on the baseball field, attempting to coach with her next to you and one pass of the wind, blowing her perfume up your nose . . . then boom, erection.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

“He’s right,” Hayes points out. “You really don’t want a boner on the field. That would be a detriment.”

“Yeah, people might think you’re smuggling a bat in your pants.”

Hayes scoffs at him. “Dude, that’s giving him way too much credit. No way does he have a bat-sized dick.”

“You’re right. My apologies,” Abel says.

“Needless to say,” Hayes continues, as if he’s not annoying me further with the commentary. “I think you go for it with Gabby to avoid all public erections.”

I truly can’t stand them right now.

“Oh yeah, smart guys, what happens when it doesn’t work out? When the fucking ends, and we still have to coach together?”

“Well . . .” Abel pauses. “I guess that’s when you erect the wall.”

“You’re . . . a . . . moron,” I say, pointing at him.

“Never claimed to be smart when it comes to women, hence why I’m unattached.”

“And I’m not all that better,” Hayes adds. “I fell in love with your sister when you and I were not on speaking terms.”

“Pretty risky,” Abel says and downs his beer.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I ever asked you two over for advice. I should have invited Wyatt.”

“Wyatt?” Hayes scoffs. “You mean the guy who entered into a marriage of convenience with your sister?”

He’s right.

Wyatt is so not the person to ask.

I scratch the side of my cheek. “Yeah, I need new friends.”

“Maybe you can talk to Ethel,” Abel says. “You know she’d love to be involved in this little conundrum.” Ethel? Christ, I think one of my testicles just shrank into itself.

Ethel O’Donnell-Kerr is the owner of the local inn, Five Six Seven Eight, and the ring leader of the Peach Society, a group of ladies that controls the town’s happenings. If something’s going on in Almond Bay, Ethel will find out somehow.

“There’s no way in fuck I’m talking to Ethel about this, and if she catches wind of it, I’m blaming you two.” I motion between my ex-friends—because that’s what they are to me now.

“The temptation to let her in on the secret is real,” Abel says. Jesus, he’s in rare form tonight. “I think we’ll keep it between us for now, but if you mess this up, then I will bring it to the society.”

“Mess up what? There’s nothing to mess up.”

“I don’t know, she seems pretty chill,” Hayes says. “She might be good for you.”

“I don’t even know her,” I say as Abel stands from the table and pats me on the shoulder.

“Then maybe you get to know her.” He nods at Hayes and says, “Let’s get out of here so they can talk when she’s done showering.”

“I’m not talking to her,” I say. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Okay, man.” He winks, and both of my friends take off, leaving me worse off than when they arrived.

I’m not fucking talking to her.

Nope.

Not happening.

Then why are you still in the kitchen?

You could easily slip up the stairs to your room where you haven’t even built your own bed yet.

But here you remain, eyes avoiding the bathroom, but also, checking the bathroom every few seconds.

The bathroom door opens, and she slinks out in her purple silk robe, her hair wet and braided, her skin glistening from whatever lotion she applied, a lotion I know smells like cherry and almonds.

I might have smelled it earlier today.

In the bathroom.

Nose to nozzle.

When she sees me sitting at the kitchen table, friendless, she pauses. “Aw, did your friends leave you?”

“Kicked them out,” I say casually. She doesn’t need to know the truth. She’s quite familiar with not telling the truth.

She glances around the kitchen, then saunters to the table and takes a seat. Crossing one leg over the other, she allows the hem of her robe to slide to her upper thigh.

Christ.

I lift my eyes, avoiding the decadent amount of skin exposed, only to be greeted by the part in her robe showing off her cleavage. Those fucking tits. I could play with them all goddamn day. One shift from her would completely expose them. I’m salivating over the possibility.

Fuck.

Me.

“That doesn’t seem very nice, Ryland.” She flips open the pizza box and plucks a pepperoni off a slice, only to slowly stick it in her mouth. I watch in fascination as she licks her fingers before picking up a paper towel and drying them.

I clear my throat and shift on my seat. “Shouldn’t you be going to your apartment?”

She nudges my beer and says, “I think we should get to know each other.”

I shake my head. “Not a good idea.”

“Not a good idea to get to know your assistant coach and co-worker? School starts in three days.”

“Well aware.”

She leans forward, her robe draping open. “Don’t you think we should chat?”

My eyes fixate on the part in her robe and the delicious cleavage on full display.

“Mm, I see what you’re more interested in.” She stands from her chair and then, to my surprise, pushes me back and sits on my lap.

I tell myself not to give in.

Not to touch her.

To avoid all physical contact.

But fuck, I can’t.

My hands grip her hips, and my tongue wets my lips.

“Is this the only way I’ll get you to tolerate me?” she asks, running her hands down my stomach.

“This is not going to help,” I say as my thumb rubs against the silky fabric.

“Maybe we can make it a game,” she replies. This already feels like a goddamn game, one that I’m sorely losing. “For every question you answer, I’ll give you a little something that I know you love.” She undoes the tie of her robe and lets the fabric fall open. “You in?”

My head’s dazed. Confused. Like I can’t think straight as my hands move inside her robe, right to her bare skin.

“This . . . this can’t keep happening,” I say as I move my hands up her rib cage.

“Then stop touching me.”

I wet my lips again. “I can’t.”

She smiles and shimmies out of her robe, letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck,” I say as I take her in.

Full breasts with dark nipples.

Curves that give me so much to hold on to.

Thighs that squeeze tightly around me.

She shifts on my lap, my joggers doing nothing to hide the way she makes me feel.

“Come on, Ryland. Play with me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, leaning back in my chair. “This can’t happen again.”

“It can’t happen again tonight . . . or after tonight?”

Say tonight.

Set the boundaries.

Tell her no more.

“After tonight,” I say, my voice coming out raspy.

She smiles seductively. “Then let’s make it a good one and play with me.” She trails her fingers down to my shirt and tugs it over my head, leaving me shirtless. The cool air races between us, acting as a stark contrast to my heated skin. “You ask me a question, and I’ll answer. When I do, you get to do something to me, anything you want, but also, if I ask you a question and you answer, the favor is returned.”

I nod, lust racing through me. Because I want her . . . again. I want to play. I want to be inside her again, feel her clench around me. Hear her moan. See her lose all control.

And not just because it was a long time before her that I had sex, but because I feel alive when I’m inside her. With her. Everything about her is like a siren call to me. She’s athletic, mouthy, witty—even when I try to ignore those things. Pretty doesn’t even touch her beauty.

My body screams want, want, want.

Even though my brain says run, run, run.

“So you in?” Her fingers dance along my chest.

“Yeah,” I say, making her smile.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

Why didn’t I recognize her?

She’s Bennett Brinkman’s sister. I know I talked to her a few times. Why didn’t I feel this clawing ache that I feel now whenever she’s around? Why didn’t I notice her before?

And why can I push past my anger and the irritation of the situation for another moment in time with her?

Am I really that easy?

Or am I really that attracted to her?

She shifts on my lap, her teeth pulling on the corner of her mouth . . . yeah, I’m really that attracted to her.

She drags her fingers from my temple to my cheek as she says, “I’ll go first. Answer this question, and I get to play with you.” She leans forward and says in a whisper, “Favorite movie.”

“Favorite movie? That’s what you’re going to ask me?”

She nods. “There’s a lack of communication and knowledge about each other, so we might as well fix that.”

“You think knowing each other’s favorite movie will help that?” I raise a brow.

“I don’t know, Ryland.” Her hands claw over my pecs and across my nipples. “You tell me.”

I suck in a sharp breath, and because I want her so fucking bad, I decide to play along. “That would be The Perfect Game with Kevin Costner.”

She pauses and looks me in the eyes. “Really?” It’s my turn to nod. “That’s mine too.”

I lift a brow. “Don’t fuck around.”

“I’m not,” she says as she shifts off my lap and tugs on my hand, pulling me up from the chair. “ Clear the mechanism . It’s what I used to say to Bennett when he’d go up to bat.” She brings me to the living room and turns toward me. “I’m assuming since you were drinking, Mac’s not here.”

“She’s not.”

“Good.” She then slips her hands under the waistband of my joggers and briefs and drags them down, my hard-on springing forward. I step out of my clothes, and she pushes me back onto the couch. “Now, for my reward.” She lowers to her knees, but I stop her.

When she glances at me, worry in her eyes, I say, “That’s truly your favorite movie?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’m not going to lie, Ryland.”

“You have before.”

I can see the hurt in her eyes when I say that, but I’m not sorry because it’s true. She’s lied before, so how can I trust what she says is the truth?

“It’s different now,” she says. “You have my word that I won’t lie again.”

For some reason, I believe her because of the way she’s looking at me and the truth coming from her expression.

“Okay,” I say with a nod.

“Okay,” she repeats and then lowers her body between my legs. She spreads my knees and starts kissing her way up my thigh, right between my legs. Her breath is heavy on my erection, her touch fucking teasing. She lowers her mouth just above the head and flicks her tongue out, licking the under part . . . only once, and she pulls away.

“Fuck,” I mutter as she smooths her hands over my thighs.

“Your turn.” She smirks.

Is that how this is going to be?

When she waits for me to ask a question, I realize it is, which means this is going to be really fucking painful.

“Favorite food,” I ask.

“Besides your dick?” She leans forward and licks up my length, causing a hiss to erupt out of me.

“Fuck . . . yes, besides that.”

She smirks and says, “Pancakes.”

I take her by the hand and pull her back up to my lap where she sits, her arousal coming very close to my cock that’s stretched up my stomach at the moment.

“Stay here,” I say as I lightly drag my fingers up her chest and then circle them around her breasts. “Banana pancakes?” I ask as I make figure eights with my fingers, never coming close to her nipples.

Her head tilts back as she says, “Any kind.”

When she sighs, I pull away, returning the same kind of torture.

She smirks down at me and then asks, “Favorite position.”

“Sex or baseball?”

She smiles. “Baseball.”

“Any position,” I answer. “Love them all. They all are important in their own way.”

“Mm, love that answer,” she says as she reaches between us and grips my cock, then drags her other hand up my chest and starts playing with my nipple, flicking it and plucking at it.

It feels fucking phenomenal.

So good that my cock pulses against her grip.

“Yes,” I say as my head falls back and my hips lift, looking for friction, but she doesn’t reward me with any. “Uhhhhh, fuck. More.”

She releases me and says, “Your turn.”

My body spikes with need as I try to gather myself and think of something quick that I can ask her so she can return to what she was doing.

“Favorite . . . uh . . .”

She smirks. “Is your mind really blanking?”

“All the blood in my body is pooling in one area at the moment. I have very little brainpower.”

She chuckles and leans forward, pressing kisses against my throat as her nipples rub against my chest.

“Not . . . fucking . . . helping,” I say as I tilt my head to the side.

“Fight through it. Ask me a question.”

As she drags her tongue down to my chest, I quickly think of something. “Favorite color.”

She laughs against my skin and answers, “Purple.”

“Cool, now ask me.”

“Uh no,” she says as she pulls away. “I want my reward.”

“Fuck, right.” I drag my thumb over my tongue before pressing my thumb to her clit.

“Ohhhh yes,” she says as her hips swivel against my thumb.

I then grip one of her breasts and play with her nipple.

Her entire body moves, rocks, uses the very few seconds I’m playing with her to her advantage.

When I pull away, the look in her eyes is even more heated.

“Favorite food,” she asks in a daze.

“That was my question.”

“Doesn’t matter, just fucking answer it,” she says, dancing her fingers down my abs.

“Cupcakes.”

That makes her pause and look me in the eyes. “Really?”

“Fucking love them.”

“That’s . . . that’s really cute.” And then her hand is on my cock, squeezing it so damn hard that my pelvis lifts off the couch.

“Ohhhh fuck. Uhhhhh, yes, more.”

She licks my nipple, laps at it, and tugs on it with her teeth, giving me just enough pleasure without any pain.

“Jesus Christ.”

I don’t wait for her to stop because I don’t want her to. “Favorite band.”

She keeps a tight grip on me as she pulls away just enough to say, “Does Noah Kahan count?”

“Yes,” I answer and then press my thumb to her clit.

“God, Ryland. Inside me. I want your fingers inside me.”

I keep my thumb on her clit, then slide my fingers inside her. She bites down on my chest at the same time, and it’s the most erotic feeling of my life. She then rides my hand, forgetting the questions as she swivels and thrusts over my fingers.

Her hand on my cock starts pumping while her other hand slides to the back of my neck, and she looks into my eyes.

It takes two seconds before her mouth is on mine.

Shit, I forgot how amazing she kisses. Last time we were together, we didn’t kiss, we just fucked, but this . . . this is different.

This feels almost feral.

Like we’re both clawing at each other.

Needing more and more.

Her mouth parts open and her tongue dances across mine. So delicious. So fucking good.

I meet her strokes as a whirlwind of pleasure rides through me, from her hand to her mouth. I feel out of control, but in a good way, like all these senses are firing off but also coming together at the same time.

Her grip on my neck grows tighter while her hips move faster. She pulls away from my mouth to moan as her head falls back.

“Fuck, I’m close. So close.”

And that’s my sign. I remove my hand, grab her by the waist, and move her to the side of the couch where she lies there in shock, a protest on the edge of her lips.