“Riley Tennyson, what the fuck has gotten into you?” I ask as she covers her mouth with her sleeve. A laugh rumbles inside my chest. “Come here, crazy girl.”
She takes the three steps toward me and drops her knee on the couch. “I told him. Now he knows,” she says, words slow and slurring. “It’s not a secret anymore. I don’t want it to be one.” Riley crawls closer, puts her hand on my knee and drops her other to the center of my chest. She laughs quietly, bend downs, and whispers, “CJ,” like she needs me to do something.
Do what? And fuck, she’s drunk. I’m damn near it. If I do anything—touch her a little or look at her longer than I should—I’m not going to be able to stop.
“Babe,” I say in warning when her eyes lower to my mouth.
She wets her lips. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t stop. Closer and closer, she moves in, until I can taste the tequila on her breath and just the slightest tilt of my head or slant of hers would put our mouths together.
“Tell me a secret,” she whispers.
I close my eyes.
I want this so fucking bad, I don’t say.
“Darlin’.” I fight every desire I have screaming at me to just kiss her—do it. It’s all you want—and instead, put my hand on her hip and sit up, easing her away. “I think we need to get you to bed,” I suggest. “It’s late.”
Riley chuckles as she rocks back onto her heels, pulling my hand off her. Her head flops sideways onto the cushion and she tilts it down, peering at me from behind her lashes. “Do you want to take me to bed, CJ Tully?” she asks in this low, raspy, sex-soaked voice I feel straight in my dick.
I inhale sharply through my nose before looking away. My jaw ticks.
Motherfucker. Why did I agree to tequila? Devil’s nectar is what it is. It’s completely fucking me over right now. Riley’s dangling a hot as fuck carrot in front of me, I’m a starving rabbit, and I can’t eat it. I shouldn’t even be looking at the damn thing.
I grab my boot I discarded beside the couch and step into it, fastening the Velcro. I could go without it like I’ve been doing lately, but I won’t. Not now. Then I stand from the couch and offer Riley my hand. “Come on. Can you walk?”
She smiles up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and nods her head. “Nope,” she says, voice breaking on a giggle, and I think Riley is going to make me carry her, which on any other night, I’d welcome the chance, just not tonight. I won’t take advantage. I won’t pretend Riley is meaning everything she’s saying to me right now and every look she’s giving. But then she tips over, kicks her legs out and gets to her feet, saving me the torment.
Thank fuck.
She rounds the couch, spinning around and walking backward down the hallway as I follow. “Do you need a bath? I could join you?”
Heat rushes to my groin. I slowly shake my head, nostrils flaring as I bridge the gap between us.
Either I’m walking faster to get to her or she’s slowing down. I don’t know.
Riley braces her hand on the doorframe, turns and backs herself into the bedroom. She bites at her bottom lip.
“Quit, baby,” I order.
“Do you really want me to?”
“Fuck no.”
Riley’s mouth tips up. “Well, then, maybe I shouldn’t quit,” she says, stopping when the back of her legs hit the mattress.
I get in front of her, toe-to-toe, and Riley has to tip her chin up to continue looking me in the eye.
“I mean, if you don’t really want me to quit, then I shouldn’t, right?”
“What I want and what I need you to do right now are two totally different things,” I clarify for her. “You’re drunk, babe. I’ve been drinking . . .”
“I’m not that drunk,” Riley argues. Her fingers find their way beneath my shirt, brush against my abs and threaten to slip lower, teasing the band of my shorts.
My stomach clenches. “Darlin’ . . .”
“Take me to bed, CJ. I want you to.” She presses closer, slides her hands to my hips and rolls up onto her toes. “Please,” she whispers, blinking slow. “I want it so bad. This isn’t the tequila talking. I swear.”
Groaning, I grab onto her wrists and pull her arms down. “You’re killing me, babe. I’m not playing.”
Finding my torture amusing, Riley chuckles under her breath before finally, thank fuck, falling back and plopping her ass on the bed. Then immediately after sitting down, she yawns, her first one of the night, as if hitting that soft surface triggered the sleep her body has been fighting against.
I bend down and grab her legs, swinging them up and twisting her so when she lays down, her head hits the dark blue pillow. “You want covers?”
“I want you.”
Fuck.
“Riley,” I groan, fists to the mattress as I lean over the bed. Chest heaving. Jaw clenching. And yes, my cock is rock fucking hard.
I need to just leave her. Forget about tucking her in. I got Riley to bed. She’ll pass out soon. Any minute. She’s yawning now.
Just leave, Tully. Get the fuck out of here.
“Cannon,” she whispers.
My head snaps left and I meet her eyes, those big, stormy blues as a pressure builds inside my chest, making it grow tighter and tighter and tighter. Never in my life have I liked the sound of my name. Not once. Lived sixteen years with it before I got it changed and that day couldn’t come fast enough for me. I couldn’t wait to get rid of it.
Then Riley Tennyson says my name one time, one fucking time, and I don’t just like it.
I fucking love it.
“Right. I’m going to say this, and then I’m leaving you to get some sleep,” I begin, holding her gaze. I watch her sweet tongue peek out and wet those juicy, plump lips. “Jesus,” I mumble, eyes pinching shut for a beat. I straighten up and rake my hand down my face, then I continue on, looking down at her. “I’m predicting you’re going to be hungover as fuck tomorrow and I’m not going to be much better off. But come Sunday, we’re both sober, I’m still feeling everything I’ve been feeling for you and you’re offering me this, honest to God wanting me to take it, darlin’, I’m taking it. Every fucking way I can take it. And once that happens, babe, we’re not going back to being just friends. If I have you again, Riley, you’re mine. My girl. My lady. My fucking woman. Yeah, we’ll still be us, joking around and doing all the fun shit we always do, but we’re gonna be fucking too. On the regular. Now, you got until Sunday to decide if that’s something you want, or if this really is the tequila talking. Don’t decide tonight. Get some sleep, think about it, and let me know Sunday.”