What I Need

Ruxton isn’t heavily populated. It’s a small town. You remember faces. And anyone living and breathing sure as hell would remember hers.

Sweet face like that, with those eyes and the way she burns you up with them, you gotta be blind not to notice.

But aside from that one time, I was never given the opportunity.

Two years of not knowing. Not even so much as a glance in her direction. Then I spend a weekend with my dick buried inside Riley Tennyson and now I’m suddenly running into her at supermarkets? What the fuck is this shit?

Stopping a few feet away, I grip the cart with one hand and rake my other down my face, scrubbing over the stubble coating my jaw.

I’m supposed to be friends with this girl. That’s what she wants. And when friends run into each other at supermarkets they say shit to one another. They don’t contemplate ducking out and going unseen, which is exactly what I’m doing.

Only this is different. I’ve touched Riley. Tasted her. A taste I’m not expecting to forget any time soon. A taste I want more of, no matter if she's available to give it to me or not. Don't care. I can't turn it off.

And I sure as fuck don’t want to be friends with her. Not after everything we’ve done.

So what do I do when she throws this option at me after taking away everything else? I agree to it. Not knowing what the hell I’m in for but figuring it can’t be all that bad.

She wants to be friends? Sure. Why the fuck not?

Phone calls I can handle. Texts, probably. As long as she isn't trying to work me up with one. But face-to-face time?

Motherfucker.

Should’ve thought this through.

I can easily retreat. There’s still time. She hasn’t seen me yet, and chances are I can make it out of the store before she notices me at all.

But the kicker is, I want to talk to her. I enjoy it. Riley is a good fucking time.

And seeing her right now?

Yeah . . . I still want it.

I just need to decide if this is the right play for me, knowing damn well how bad I’ll want to do more than just talk.

I stare at Riley's profile as I debate backing away and retreating to another aisle.

Her hair is up off her neck, tied up in a messy knot with a few blond pieces falling out and tucked behind her ear. She’s wearing hospital scrubs. Dark blue ones. Stormy like her eyes after she comes.

Those blue flames.

Jesus.

Never seen eyes like hers.

What she’s wearing isn’t showing her shape but it doesn’t need to. I know Riley’s shape. I’ve felt it with my hands, gentle and with urgency. I’ve touched and grabbed and palmed. I know how it presses and curls into me when she’s sleepy from sex.

And knowing everything I know, I shouldn’t still be standing here, staring and allowing memories to trigger. I should be making my way to the checkout and getting the fuck gone.

She wants to be friends.

I want to throw her down right here, bury myself deep, and show her exactly why her idea is fucking terrible.

But I can’t. And because I can’t, I need to go. Pay for my food and get the hell out of here.

Fuck this. What am I doing?

Decision made, I start to retreat. But then I watch as Riley bends down to retrieve something out of the crate she’s standing by, and I’m curious enough to pause and see what it is she’s been staring at this whole time I’ve been staring at her.

What's held her attention for minutes?

She straightens up with the produce in her hand and holds it out. That’s when I see it.

A coconut.

I smirk, because fuck me. There goes my decision. I’m going to have to go over there now. I can’t ignore that.

That’s ours.

You asked for this, Tully.

Ignoring all alarms in my head screaming that this is a bad idea, that doing a face-to-face with Riley is just going to make me want to fuck her even more, I push my cart over to where she’s standing.

“Not all palm trees have those,” I announce as I come up beside her, boxing Riley in with my cart so her only escape is to back away.

Her head snaps right and tilts up to see me. Then her eyes go round.

“You probably already know that though,” I continue, keeping the smirk. “Considering how naturally curious you are.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks with a quick voice, bringing the coconut against her chest and clutching it with both hands.

Her cheeks are now flushing pink. She’s either embarrassed I caught her or nervous to see me.

I’ll take either one.

“Robbing the joint,” I reply, resting my forearms on the cart handle and angling my body forward.

Those burning blues grow rounder. “What?” she whispers.

I chuckle. “What do you think I’m doing here? I’m getting food for dinner,” I tell her, nodding at the coconut. “You got plans for that or were you just letting yourself remember?”

Riley smiles a little. Then she shakes her head and looks away to drop the coconut back into the crate. “I don’t know what I was doing,” she answers, turning back to look at me. “And before you say anything, the dates in my cart have absolutely no significance.”

I cock an eyebrow.

“They are on sale this week,” she adds quietly with a shrug. “That’s why I’m buying them.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but just in case you were thinking something.”

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” I reply, watching her pink lips press tight together. Full and soft and tasting sweet as hell.