“CJ!” she snaps.
I lift my gaze. Riley’s doing this wide-eyed glare thing, tipping forward and pinching her lips together. “What?” I ask, looking out the windshield. I’m expecting to see Reed standing at the front of my truck, pointing Ben's gun at me. He isn't. “What’s the problem?” I turn to look at Riley.
“You can’t act natural. You were just staring at my boobs. If that's natural for you, we're going to have major problems at this shindig.”
I cock my head. “We're alone, darlin',” I remind her. “Unless you go in there and tell your brother I was just checking out your killer fucking rack, he won't know I was doing it. I can be discreet when I need to be. Right now, sitting with you in my truck is not one of those times.” I give her a smile, take my hand out from behind her shoulder and brush my knuckles along her cheek. “Riley, babe, I think you’re worrying a little too much about this,” I tell her. “It'll be fine. Trust me.”
Seriously. What does she think I’m going to do? Bend her over the table and fuck her right there in front of everyone?
I mean, obviously, I'd wait for Reed to step out of the room.
Riley leans back, blinking. “You won’t have a problem keeping things friendly in there?”
“I think I can handle it.”
“Well, I might have a problem,” she’s quick to say, eyes widening in panic. “I'll want to kiss you. I know I will. You'll do that thing where you look at me . . .” Riley’s voice trails off, then she drops her head and turns away, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear as her teeth rake across her lip.
“Where I look at you?” I chuckle. Riley jerks her shoulder. Holy fuck, she’s serious.
Just me looking at her gets her going? Nice.
Grinning, I unlatch her seat belt, wrap my arm around her waist and yank her against me so she’s pressed to my side. I drop my mouth beside her ear. “Maybe we should get it out of your system then. That way you’re not fighting it too much,” I murmur, pinching her chin between my thumb and finger and turning her head. My lips graze her cheek. I want Riley to take this opportunity. Take what she needs from me. “Nobody’s out here,” I remind her. “Nobody will see us.” I press my lips to the corner of her mouth. Her jaw, when she tips her head back. I hear the quickness in her breath. “Kiss me,” I say.
Riley leans forward on a gasp and seals our mouths together, moaning like she’s desperate and dying for this. Her hand curls around my thigh while mine cups her cheek. I tilt my head, taking what I need from her too. I can’t help it.
I told her I’ll be able to handle this but the truth is, I don’t want to have to. I want to kiss Riley whenever the fuck I want, in front of whoever I want. I want to put my arm around her and hold her hand and watch her from across the room. I want people assuming we’re going to sit together because we are together. I’ve been keeping this shit to myself for what feels like a goddamn lifetime, and I really don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to go in there and pretend I’m not completely insane for this girl. I don’t want to act like we’re nothing. Fuck that. I think I can handle it? That’s a damn lie. `Cause I have no fucking idea how I’m going to get through this.
Riley pushes up, pressing harder as her tongue flicks inside my mouth. She tastes like the peppermint she sucked on before we left the house.
She tastes like she’s mine, and I gotta go in there and act like she isn’t.
“Fuck,” I rasp. “Let’s just tell him. Let’s just fucking say we’re together.”
Riley shakes her head, murmuring against my lips, “No. No, we can’t. Not yet.”
“Riley—”
“We can’t,” she insists, pulling back an inch to look at me. Her eyes jump between mine, and she grabs my face, begging with an anxious voice, “Please. We can’t tell him, CJ. Not today. Not here.”
I pull in a deep breath. My jaw clenches beneath her palms. Fuck. That’s not what I want to hear.
Riley must see my bitter disappointment, because her eyes soften and her lips pull down. “This will be the first time Reed is seeing us together since I told him I’m living with you,” she reminds me. “I want to see how he reacts to that first, you know? I want to make sure he’s okay with it, `cause the first time he saw Richard and me together, he wasn’t. Reed acted like he couldn’t stand either one of us. And I just . . . I want to make sure he’s good with seeing us together, okay?” She drops her hands to her lap and shakes her head. “I don’t like this either,” she says, sounding defeated. “I don’t. But Reed . . . he said he’s not going to be shy about hating the next person I date. He actually said that to me. And I just think easing him into this might be better. I’m sorry, CJ. I want to go in there and tell everybody. I do. Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you,” I tell her, understanding why she wants to feel him out. I watch Riley give me a weak smile in response, still looking just as sad and fuck, I feel like a dick. Could I bitch any more? Why am I pushing this with her? I don’t want Riley apologizing to me.
Her hand smooths down the front of my shirt, and she opens her mouth to tell me something, probably another sorry I don’t need to hear, so I grab the back of her neck and bend down, pressing my lips against hers again. I kiss her hard and quick, then jerking back, I end the kiss before I can’t.
“Come on. Let’s go,” I say, pushing my door open. I hop out of the truck, turn back and watch Riley hesitate getting out, looking at the dash and smiling behind her fingertips.
A real smile. One I know well. She gives it to me a lot.
And when a man has a woman giving him a smile like that—daily, the way Riley does with me—he’s one lucky motherfucker.
And he damn sure shouldn’t be bitching, having what he’s got.
Riley finally gets out of the truck and meets me around the driver’s side. I’m still strapping on my boot after grabbing it out of the back seat.
“How’s your leg after driving?” she asks.
I’m prepared for this question. I knew Riley was going to ask it. I haven’t driven us anywhere together yet, and she was reluctant letting me do it today.
“Same,” I answer. And that’s the truth. I don’t feel a difference after driving. I don’t feel much of a difference after doing anything anymore. Not after PT. Not after walking on it. Not after doing shit she doesn’t think I’m supposed to be doing. But I don’t tell Riley that. Tipping my head up as I fasten the Velcro, I squint in the sun and watch her lips pull between her teeth. “What?”
“Maybe I should drive us home,” she suggests.
“Did I just say my leg was killing me?”