Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’m drunk. Maybe I’ve entered some alternate reality. All I know is that Riley, my Riley, said she wants to be more than friends.

Okay, I may be exaggerating just a tad; she said she’s been thinking about it, but it’s all the green light I need. Because me? I’ve wanted to be more than her friend for over ten years.

“Jesse,” she murmurs as I pull back, but I still hold her face in my hands. I’m afraid if I let go, this moment will slip away. She’ll slip away. “Jesse,” she says again, nearly moaning my name, and it does things to me it probably shouldn’t. I’m already too excited, too worked up, the friction of my jeans against my raging hard-on borders on painful. But I don’t want to stop. I want to hear her say my name again, but this time while I’m inside her. Holy fuck.

She rests her hands over mine and her eyes pop open, searching my own for acceptance, for clarity, for God only knows what, and I pray she sees the answer she desires. It’s only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity before she whispers, “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” My gaze falls to her lips. “But I really want to kiss you again.”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want you to kiss me again.”

I’m caught between wanting her to say those words again—Christ, how long have I waited for her? How many times have I fantasized about this very moment—and wanting to taste her again.

But I knew there would be plenty of time for talking later, plenty of time for her to tell me over and over again what she needs, what she wants. Right now, I need to feel her again. To taste, to explore, to claim what’s mine. What’s always been mine.

My lips crash on hers, and this time it’s not gentle or teasing, it’s demanding and rough and so damn hot that I moan into her mouth. “Fuck.”

“Jesse.” I swear if she keeps saying my name like that I’m gonna come.

My hands settle on her waist, drag her on top of me until she’s nestled right over…fuck. When she starts gyrating her hips, my head falls back against the pillow and my eyes squeeze shut. Don’t come. Not yet. Fuck.

“Jesse.” She moans my name again. Doesn’t she know what that’s doing to me? “You feel so good.”

No more. I sit up and cup her breasts over the fabric of her shirt. Their weight rests heavy in my hands as I squeeze their fullness. I drag my fingers across her nipples, both at the same time, and it’s her turn to call out. “Fuck.”

“You like that?” I drag my thumb across the right breast again, then the left. “Do you like your nipples played with?”

I pinch both buds between my forefingers and thumbs, and this makes her go wild. Her hips begin pumping up and down, faster and more uncontrolled.

“Baby.” I halt her hips. “Baby, slow down.”

“What?” She half-opens her eyes, confused.

I roll her onto her back as my fingers crawl underneath her tank top and push up. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” she groans, palming me over my jeans. Fuck. I never thought Riley would be the aggressor. It’s turning me on. Way too much.

“Take these off.” She pops the button on my jeans and works one hand inside the denim. “And this.” She tugs at my t-shirt with her free hand.

Soon I’m down to my black boxer briefs which do nothing to conceal my hard-on, not just any hard-on, but the hard-on to end all hard-ons. One quick pass of her tight fist and I’ll blow.

I swat her hands away and pin both above her head. Her camisole is pushed up to her chin, her full, round breasts on display, nipples puckered and hard, begging for my attention. “Christ, Riley.” I drag my nose between her tits. “You’re so soft. So smooth.”

“Jesse.” My name breaks on a cry as my lips close around one nipple. Her arms thrash in my grip, but I hold firm. I can’t let her touch me. Not yet.

My lips drag across to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. Her hips gyrate in small circles beneath me, frantic, and if I didn’t know better, I swear she’s about to come.

“Jesse.” She jerks her arms against my hold. “Let me touch you. Please.”

It’s the needy plea, the absolute desperation laced in her tone, that causes me to release my grip.

Her hands fall free and circle the length of my cock, not one hand, but both. She slides her wrists up and down, and even over the fabric I’m a goner… There’s no turning back now.