Her sixth.
“I agree with you. Supplying gum to the class is worth three points, at least.” I chew up my grape, laughing at Riley when she misses with another one. “Hey, you’re a perfect score in my book, darlin’. Just remember that.”
Cheesy? Yeah. But I’m one shot ahead of her so I can’t be responsible for any of the shit I’m saying right now.
And I’m saying a lot. I just told her five minutes ago I thought she was my ideal woman.
Thanks to the tequila, Riley found that to be hilarious.
She slaps her hand over her mouth and giggles until her eyes water. “Oh, my God. I got a good one. Wait.” She sets her shot glass down on the trunk, swaying a little as she rights herself, then once she’s straight, she tucks her legs underneath her and gets up on her knees so she’s hovering in front of me on the couch. One hand on the back cushion, she leans closer and points her finger at me, opens her mouth to speak, and then hesitates, closing it again. “Oh, wait. You need to sneeze first,” she prompts.
I breathe a laugh. “What?”
“You do!” She shoves at my chest, laughing. “It won’t work unless you sneeze. Come on.”
“I can’t sneeze on command.”
“Just . . . pretend sneeze.”
I stare at her, straight faced. “Ahchoo.”
Her eyes widen and her cheeks lift. “I’d say God bless you, but it looks like he already did,” she says, voice breaking with another giggle.
“Smooth.” I hold my hand up, getting a high five from her. “I can top it though.”
“Yeah? Try me.”
I shoot back my seventh shot, wince as it goes down, and point at her with the hand holding the glass. “Did you sit in sugar? `Cause you got a sweet ass, baby.”
“Yes!” She pumps her fist into the air. “Oo! How about, are you a parking ticket? `Cause you got fine written all over you.”
“Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?”
“You put the stud in bible study . . .”
I lean forward, set my glass on the trunk and slowly turn my head to look at her. “Christian pickup lines? Really?”
“What?” She shrugs, still laughing as she brushes hair out of her face using her sleeve covered hand. “I think it’s a good one. Reed fell for it. Oo! Speaking of Reed . . .”
I lean back as Riley climbs off the couch, doing it like an animal would and planting her hands on the ground first, then pulling her feet down and crawling away.
“Goof,” I chuckle. “What are you doing?”
She stands then, rushing into the kitchen, I think—I rub at my face instead of watching her. My head feels foggy. Fucking tequila. I need to stop drinking. When I lower my hands again, Riley is standing in the living room with her phone pressing to her ear.
I look at the time. It’s after one.
“Who are you calling?” I ask.
Riley holds up her finger, listening to someone on the other end of the line as she looks at the floor. Then she smiles and meets my gaze. “Reed! My brotha from the same motha! I just wanted to let you know I’m living with CJ.”
My eyes widen. What the fuck? She’s telling him?
Riley waves at me, smiling even bigger now. “It’s a business deal,” she continues into the phone, twisting her body at the waist like she’s excited about something and can’t stand still. “So, yeah, we’re roommates now . . . me and him. It’s a squad thing. You wouldn’t get it. But, anyway, I just wanted you to know that. Okay, so . . . have a good night. No! A good morning!” She giggles in delight as she lowers the phone and ends the call.
“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.