chapter 25
RILEY
“THE BETRAYAL, OH, HOW it still burns,” Preston says, hand on his heart. “I can’t even look at you, Riley.”
“Preston, the guy is pretty good at what he does, admit it,” I tell my dramatic friend. “The place is spotless, he handled a fight, and to be honest, I have a lot less work than I usually do.”
“He also got the phone number of a chick I was checking out,” Preston argues, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s not that good-looking, is he?”
“Um, I can hear you both,” Izaac points out, coming to stand next to me. I kind of lied to Hunter, because Izaac is fucking hot, and I noticed it the second he walked in.
“Sorry, Izaac,” I say to him. “These two wanted to be left in charge, and I let you be manager instead, and let’s say I won’t be hearing the end of it until I’m dead.”
“I’ll write it on your headstone,” Callie adds, joining the conversation. “It will read ‘Riley McMahon, owner of Riley’s pub and a traitor.’ ”
I flash Izaac an I told you look, and he simply chuckles and turns to Preston. “If you want a chick, tell me and I’ll back off. And I’ll do the same for you. Deal?”
“I didn’t realize Riley’s sidelined as a brothel,” I whisper under my breath, then turn to Callie. “Come on, how long are you going to be mad for? I couldn’t choose between the two of you. You are both amazing. But look at it this way, I’ve made your jobs easier, because if there’s any problems and I’m not here, it’s now Izaac’s problem.”
“Thanks,” Izaac mutters in a dry tone.
“You’re welcome,” I tell him, patting him on the shoulder. “And welcome to the family.”
Callie slides up next to him and winks. “Don’t think family is the right word here.”
Preston studies me. “So are you going to tell us how your date went or are you going to keep us all in suspense?”
“What do you want to know?” I ask them all warily, leaning back against the counter. “We went horseback riding, had a picnic, and then went back to his place, where he cooked me dinner.”
“Whoa, he’s good,” Preston comments, looking impressed. “Horseback riding? You would have eaten that shit up.”
“No shit,” Callie adds, sharing a look with Preston. “I knew he’d nail the date. There’s no way he’d fuck up the first real chance you gave him.”
“Agreed,” Preston remarks, clapping his hands together. “So, does this mean you guys are together or what? Is this shit official?”
“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I tell them, rolling my eyes. “It was one date, and I’m not in any rush, remember?”
“Did you fuck him?” Callie asks, straight-out nosy.
“No,” I reply with a straight face, because technically, I didn’t. And they don’t need to know all my business. No one does. “So that means you lose your stupid little bet.”
“Prude,” she snickers, but then wraps me in a warm hug. “I’m glad you’re opening yourself up to possibilities. I’m proud of you. Even if I’m still angry at you.”
I hug her back and say, “Thank you, and I know you are. But you will get over it.”
Preston wraps his arm around me as soon as Callie lets go. “I suppose he’s not that bad.”
“Hunter or Izaac?”
“Both of them,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“Does that mean you’re not angry anymore?” I ask, snuggling into him.
“Nope,” he replies, letting go of me and walking away.
Tough crowd.
Izaac removes his sweater, his T-shirt riding up with the movement, exposing a pretty decent set of abs.
No regrets.
My phone beeps with a message. It’s from Hunter.
How did the mutiny go?
I think I handled it. Although apparently “traitor” will be written on my headstone when I die.
Let me guess. Callie?
I laugh and reply:
You got it. Are you at the gym on your phone?
Maybe.
Are you going to send me a gym pic?
No.
I laugh and type back:
Why not?
Because I’m not a douche.
I laugh to myself and type back furiously:
I guess I’ll have to see you flex in the flesh.
Looking forward to it, beautiful.
Warmth fills me. I’m slowly letting him in through the cracks.
Let’s just hope it’s the right decision.
NEXT WEEKEND ARRIVES, AND Hunter and I decide to stay in after both having big weeks. Hunter cooks dinner for us, and we watch movies and cuddle. It’s nice, and it feels natural somehow.
“You have really cute feet, they’re all small and pretty,” he tells me, out of nowhere.
“Ew,” I reply, moving my feet when he goes to try and touch them. “Don’t touch my feet, or look at them.”
“Why not?” he asks, laughing. “They’re just feet.”
“Feet are yuck,” I tell him, glancing down at mine, glad I got a pedicure on my lunch break the other day. “And if you have some foot fetish, you’re shit out of luck because if you try to kiss my toes I’m going to kick you in the face.”
He throws his head back and laughs, so I tug down on his beard until his face is level with mine.
“That escalated from a simple compliment,” he says, scanning my eyes.
“Apparently everything with us will escalate quickly,” I reply, kissing his lips.
He cups my face with his hands. “As long as you’re not going to change your mind.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I reply, arching my brow. I don’t know how else to reply to that, because you never know what can happen. I don’t know, and neither does he. Maybe he will realize this isn’t what he wants—you never know. This is why no one wants to fall in love or be vulnerable anymore. It’s like you’re trying to get to know someone, but without fully opening up or giving yourself to them, because then they have the power to hurt you. I don’t want to get hurt again. I chose wrong the first time, and I sure as hell don’t want to choose wrong again. I don’t want to hurt him either. There’s a lot going on though, my divorce for one, but I know that if two people want to make it work, they can.
We just need to both want it badly enough, but how do you know if you do so early?
I don’t know.
I’m just going with the flow right now, trusting my gut and hoping it doesn’t lead me astray.
“Yes, you are,” he murmurs, and I decide to change the subject.
“How’s work? What cases are you working on right now?” I ask.
“Nothing too interesting,” he replies, gripping me by the waist and pulling me closer. “A few straightforward divorces. There’s one with an ugly custody battle, so I’m working hard to make sure the father gets equal access to his kids.”
“It must be draining sometimes,” I tell him. “And a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. “Definitely. I want to help everyone, you know? But it doesn’t always work out like that.”
I kiss his beard.
“Did you just kiss my beard?” he asks, body shaking as he starts to laugh. “In the middle of a serious conversation?”
I nuzzle his cheek. “I like you, Hunter. I mean, at first I thought you were a womanizer and couldn’t take anything seriously.” I pause, puffing out a breath. “And well, you kind of are, and you don’t, but there’s so much more to you. I just like being around you. I like you, I like your beard, and I like spending time with you.”
“I like spending time with you too, Riley,” he says in a deep tone. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week. Seeing you at lunch is good, but kind of not cutting it anymore.”
“I know what you mean,” I reply, sighing. I kiss the lobe of his ear and smile when I feel the shudder that overcomes him. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Okay,” he replies, turning off the TV.
I like that it didn’t take much convincing.
I laugh when he picks me up and carries me bride-style to his room, lifting me like I don’t weigh a thing.
He kisses me and places me on the bed, pulling off his white T-shirt so he’s standing before me in nothing but gray sweatpants.
I love those sweatpants.
“You don’t wear those out of the house, do you?” I ask, the thought suddenly hitting me as I eye the outline of his cock that is clearly visible.
“Yeah, why?” he asks, glancing down. “I’ve worn them to the gym before, or just if I’m running into the supermarket or something.”
“It’s the equivalent of me going out in a thong and white leggings,” I tell him, smirking. “And no, I’m not even joking. It’s one of the sluttiest things men can wear.”
“Do you really want to get into a debate about this right now?” he asks, sliding his thumbs underneath the waistband of his sweats, teasing.
“Not really,” I murmur, eyes on his cock. “Remove them.”
“You making demands now, Riley?” he asks, unable to hide his amusement. He slides his pants down a little, enough to see the delicious V, not enough to see his cock.
“Keep going,” I say, licking my lips. I lose all my inhibitions around him, all my shyness disappearing, too turned on to care. I just want him. We didn’t fuck last time, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about since. He wanted to wait, and I waited an extra week. It might not sound like much, but trust me, it was the longest week of my life.
He brings them down a little more, his cock finally making an appearance as he slides the material over it. And then he’s naked, and my eyes are having a fucking feast as I take him in from head to toe. I make a sound in the back of my throat, a sound of want.
“Come closer,” I plead, wanting him.
He steps forward until his cock is within reach, my fingers reaching out to stroke him a few times before bringing him to my lips. Opening my mouth, I suck him in as deep as I can, taking him to the back of my throat, his pleasure taking priority over breathing.
“Fuck,” he groans, fingers threading in my hair as he watches me. “I want to taste you.” He pulls away from me, climbing onto the bed and undressing me quickly. As soon as my red lace panties are off, his mouth is on me, licking, tasting, and sucking, driving me crazy.
“I want you to fuck me, Hunter,” I tell him, just needing to feel him. It’s been so fucking long, and I’m glad I waited for him, even if I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. He ignores me, of course, licking my clit until I can’t fight my orgasm anymore, moaning his name as the pleasure consumes me. Before I come back to myself, he slowly slides into me. He’s so big, but I’m so wet that it feels good. I pull his lips down on mine, kissing him deeply as he starts to gently thrust in and out of me.
This is what I’ve been missing.
I won’t be making that mistake again.