Page 26 of The Riley Effect

In the time Marcus and Indy have been dating, she has spent countless nights here hanging with just the boys, but this is the quickest I’ve seen her fall asleep. We are barely an hour into the movie when Marcus picks her up so they can go sleep in his room.

When they are halfway up the stairs with Indy resting across his arms, her eyes flutter open, and she winks. It’s a full-blownyou better thank me,wink.

When I hear Marcus’ bedroom door shut, I remove my hand from where it’s resting on the couch and adjust myself so there is enough room for Ivy if she chooses to take it. I know she has taken the bait when I smell her floral shampoo.

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are,” she giggles. “You know she did that on purpose, right? She always thinks she can play coy, but she is as subtle as an elephant in a library.” I can feel the rise and fall of her laughter against my chest.

“Are you mad we are alone?” I ask, wanting a genuine response.

“No. No, I’m not mad.” Her answer is confident, and for the first time, I feel like Ivy may be feeling me as much as I am feeling her.

“Good, I’m not either.”

When Ivy’s attention returns to the movie, mine doesn’t follow. I can’t pry mine away from Ivy’s lush, full lips. I can feel my body tense as I remember the kiss I placed on Ivy’s foreheadwhen she got here, and that’s making the urge to pull those lush lips between mine so much greater.

I keep myself focused by playing with Ivy’s hair. When I move to lightly massage the top of her scalp, she looks up at me with big doe eyes. The flash of innocence is a contrast to the lust that fills mine.

“Don’t stop, it feels sooo good.” Her voice turns husky as I deepen the massage. When I remove my fingers from the top of her head, I place a small peck on the sensitive spot below the back of her ear. I linger a second longer than necessary, taking in her warm scent.

“I’m really happy you came tonight,” I tell her.

“I am, too. Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Of course, Ivy. It’s been worth the wait.”

Ivy adjusts her body to face me, and her dark eyes land on my lips. I don’t hesitate this time and kiss her the way I should have at my front door. It’s sweet at first. Slow-paced and innocent. We feel each other out, figuring out how our bodies fit together.

Normally, a kiss is just a preview of the main show. It typically doesn’t do much for me, but I could sit here fully clothed, kissing Ivy until tomorrow morning, and it wouldn’t be long enough. She’s a drug I can’t get enough of.

Ivy moves so her leg comes over my body, stradling me. A soft moan sneaks through my lips as she settles in my lap. Wanting more, I place my hand on the back of her head and guide her lips back to mine.

When her lips return to where I want them, my hands go on a trip down Ivy’s sexy frame. I take detours at the underside of her breasts before moving to her hips. I lie on the armrest and guide Ivy’s hips back without breaking the kiss. I pull her to me so her chest is flush with mine, and I can press gentle kisses down her neck. I’m nervous this is a dream I’ll wake up from too soon, and just on cue, I’m forced awake.

“Y’all are not going to believe what happened tonight!” Byron screams from the front door, thinking I’m here with Marcus and Aaron.

Ivy lets out a scream that sounds like a squealing cat right before she buries her face in my chest. I wrap my arm around her as I place a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

It’s clear Byron is piss-drunk, and I know from years of experience that yelling at him won’t do anything but have him try to fight me, so I play along.

“What happened By?”

“So I decided to walk home from the bar,” his hands proceed to make sweeping motions to signal he is talking about himself. “Because ya know I’m too drunk to drive.”

It may not seem like it at this moment, but Byron has always been the moral compass of the group. Growing up as the only child of a single mom, he grew up quicker than most of us. He is an expert advice giver and the shoulder we all lean on, but he is still a 20-year-old college hockey player…. So he gets drunk…. Often.

“I’m glad he has at least some self-awareness,” Ivy murmurs so softly into my chest. I’m positive I’m the only one who hears her embarrassed tone.

Not waiting for Ivy or me to address that, Byron continues, “So anyway, I was just enjoying some fresh air, taking in the warmth because, ya know, winter is coming soon.”

I nod, holding back my laugh at Byron and his drunken antics. I can’t count the number of nights we’ve lost track of Byron. When we do, we can always count on him coming home with some crazy story. Once, he found himself in a chicken wing eating contest at the local fair. Another time, he played pick-up basketball with Carmelo Anthony at Rucker Park. My favorite story is when he ended up hooking up with his professor’sdaughter and was forced to have breakfast with him the next morning.

“And….” I coax him.

“Please don’t get mad,” he says before he goes outside again. “But she looked cold, and I couldn’t let her just stay out there.”

He walks hesitantly back into the living room, holding the cutest puppy. He lets her down, and she runs right to Ivy. Still straddling my waist, Ivy scoops up the little tan and white fluff ball and places her on my chest. She looks to be on the small side, and her body is cold to the touch.

Ivy faces the puppy’s belly toward me.

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