Page 40 of After Tonight

He definitely wanted to be on her ass. He wanted to be on all of her.

And fuck it that wasn’t the most surprising and complicated and irritating thing ever. Wasn’t that just typical? A friend was here helping him figure out how not to make everything about sex and what did he do? Started lusting after her, of course.

But he also wanted her to work here today. The project was good. It was a great fit for Riley. It was something that the task force needed, and it would be doing something really, really good. He didn’t think Riley actually felt guilty about what had gone down in California. She’d done nothing wrong, technically. But he knew that she wanted to feel good about what she was doing. And right or wrong, she wanted to be able to tell her mom about her job and her passions without being judged.

He knew Riley. She could get passionate about a new level of magic in an online video game. She could get passionate about a new blog supporting women’s rights and fighting for wage equality. She could get passionate about a news story, a city council issue, or a new menu item at Dottie’s Diner. He’d seen all of that at different times. But he sincerely doubted that she got passionate about cyber security for banks.

“So, go shower, I’ll cook, and you can work here like you’d planned,” he said, letting go of her hand finally.

They needed to hang out for both their sakes. He needed to get his dick under control.

She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he told her. And it shouldn’t be. That was for sure.

He started the breakfast preparation. He had a hard time keeping his focus on eggs and ham and mushrooms rather than on the soapy, slick, naked woman down the hall, but he at least got points for pulling those thoughts back to whisking and flipping whenever they wandered.

And when she finally emerged, he had himself convinced that he was fine. Until he turned around. Her wet hair was up on top of her head, and she brought a vanilla-scented rush of air into the room, and she was wearing a T-shirt that said I like you, but if zombies chase us, I’m tripping you.

God, he liked her.

He supposed he always had, but the more time they spent one-on-one, the more apparent it became. He liked her. Not just to tease, but because she was funny and smart and mouthy and didn’t think he was the best thing since fried pickles.

And her breasts looked damned good in that T-shirt. Dammit.

“Everything’s ready.” He gestured toward the stove.

“It smells great.”

She sounded a bit surprised, but he let it go. “I’m going to shower.”

“Oh, you’re not—” She stopped and nodded. “Okay.”

Did she want him to eat breakfast with her? Well, it didn’t matter. He was going to take a shower instead of sitting here finding more things to be attracted to. Riley was gorgeous. But she wasn’t for him. He was going to date Lucy. For one thing, Lucy didn’t think he was a dumbass. Well, that might not actually be true, but she didn’t have the proof of it from years of knowing him that Riley did. For another, Lucy was going to stay in Sapphire Falls forever. Just like him. Riley couldn’t wait to leave. So there was that.

But when he got into the bathroom, he realized that escaping Riley and his growing attraction to her was impossible. Not just because she’d made his bathroom smell like her—a combination of vanilla and herbs and flowers that sounded in his head like it should have been nauseating, but instead had him pulling the towel she’d used to his nose and taking a deep breath. A deep, stupid, what-the-hell breath of her scent. She’d also littered the edge of his tub with shaving cream in a pink can, and a razor that was also pink, and body gel that was—God save him—pink. All of that had him thinking about the places she’d spread that shaving cream and scrubbed with that body gel.

But all of that wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t escape her. She was a part of his life. She’d been in California for the past few years, but her photos were all over Erika and Jake’s house. Conversations with the Ames family usually involved Riley at some point. Most of his childhood memories—and even most after childhood—included her. And now she was living here, even if it was temporary, and their lives were so entwined that there was no way he could just avoid her or ignore her.

And he didn’t want to.

He’d never been good at ignoring her. Even when she’d tried to ignore him, he’d had to poke at her and tease. So now that he’d realized she had the best breasts he’d ever seen in a T-shirt and that her ass really did fit perfectly against his cock, there was no way he was going to be able to keep his attention off of her.

Derek turned the shower on a little colder than usual and shed his clothes. And stopped trying to pretend that he didn’t want Riley. What would she be like in bed? Sassy, he was sure. Probably up for anything. That was how she did everything else, why would sex be any different?

He braced a hand on the wall, letting the shower spray rain down on his head. He closed his eyes and did the inevitable. He took his cock—his hard-for-Riley cock—in hand and started stroking.

He could easily imagine her on her knees in front of him. Not submissive—though getting bossy with her would be a hell of a lot of fun—but because she’d want to drive him crazy. She’d watch his every reaction to what she did to see how best to push him, to make him curse under his breath, to make him lock his knees so he didn’t go down and grasp for something to hold him up. She’d lick and suck and stroke until he was saying her name and gripping her hair, his need and ultimate surrender obvious. And then, before he could get to the sweet release, she’d stand up and tell him bluntly, “Fuck me, Derek”. She’d demand that he give as good as he got. So he’d lift her up against the wall and pound into her. She’d take every inch, every thrust. She’d dig her fingers into his back and would urge him on with “more” and “yes” and “harder”.

Derek squeezed his cock and stroked harder, sliding up and down his shaft, eyes shut, a clear vision of Riley in his head. He could easily imagine the hot, slick hold on his cock was her pussy. He could hear her voice in his head telling him exactly what to do to make her come, and he’d gladly do it. He wouldn’t kid around or tease or joke. He’d fuck her to the point that she had to admit he was a damned Sex God after all.

He felt his orgasm coming on fast and hard. His gut clenched, his balls tightened, and he erupted. He kept from shouting or groaning, knowing she’d hear from the kitchen, but barely. In fact, part of him wanted her to hear it. Wanted her to know that she was getting to him, and while she might consider it a small victory to be driving him nuts, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it for long. If he was going to be crazy, so was she.

As he finished showering, dried, and dressed, he marveled at how he should be feeling relieved and relaxed after a hard, satisfying orgasm, but how, instead, he felt even more irritated than before. Maybe Riley didn’t know she was getting to him, but he knew it. And hell, she wasn’t even trying. That was maybe the worst part. If she’d been trying to tease or seduce him, that might be one thing. It could have turned into a fun game of chicken—see who could make the other one beg first. But no, she was just being Riley.

And a big part of him couldn’t help but think that if he hadn’t been sexually attracted to her before he’d spent a few innocent hours alone with her, then he really was a dumbass.

By the time he made it back to the kitchen, Riley was done eating and had cleaned up everything except for a plate and a set of utensils. She flipped an omelet from the pan she held onto the plate and handed it to him. He’d made her an omelet and she’d made him one. That shouldn’t feel significant. And maybe it wasn’t. But the fact that she hadn’t added asparagus or avocado or some weird nuts or seeds, and the fact that he didn’t comment on that, or tease her about what gross things he might have secretly added to hers, was significant. Things were changing between them. They were hanging out, talking, and he was thinking about her breasts far too much.

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