Page 45 of Cherry Picking
It’s refreshing that for a moment, Riley can have his guard down. Kissing and touching in public isn’t exactly our MO, but if he’s comfortable, I’ll never turn it down.
Deciding that he deserves a reward for the affection, I sigh and lean into his arm.
“The guy was poking fun at you getting hurt, alright? I told you it was stupid. I lost my head.”
Riley is quiet, but his fingers tighten on my shoulder.
“You punched a guy for being a dick about my injury?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
His laughter tickles the top of my head. “The big bad hockey player can’t handle a little chirping?”
“Not when it’s about you.”
Riley quiets, and I feel his lips brushing my hairline.
“That shouldn’t make a difference.”
“It does though.” I turn my head into the crook of his arm. “I can’t stand by and watch the people I love get hurt.”
“You’re a dumbass.”
“A dumbass who loves you.”
Riley pushes his lips into a line, but his eyes are soft and swimming with insecurity. He tips his head back, and I can feel the distance he’s putting between us in his mind.
His jaw moves, but he doesn’t speak, and when I try to slip out of his hold, he tightens it.
“A dumbass in love is still a dumbass.”
It’s not a confession, but my anxiety loosens anyway. Moving from fooling around to a relationship was hard for Riley. Not because he didn’t want it, but because he has this nasty habit of not letting himself have what he wants.
Like he’s eternally punishing himself for… I don’t even know what.
He looks down at me, and the head difference between us has never done anything but serve to turn me on. So, when I tilt my head back, he takes the invitation to cover my mouth in a commanding kiss that is much bolder than any public display I’ve gotten out of him.
“I need you,” he whispers into my mouth as his hand slips under the table to stroke teasingly along my thigh.
We don’t have time to get hot and sweaty, not unless we want a quickie in an airport bathroom, but that runs too much of a risk of getting caught.
I need him too, though, and it’s physically painful to break my mouth away and scoot out of the booth.
“Tonight. After we kick ass and make up for last night’s loss.”
He smiles, and it’s not just heat I feel, but a burning desire to have this man in every way imaginable. One I have to bury as we dump what’s left of our food in the trash and wait for the Uber to take us to the hotel.
Sitting on the metal bench, Riley twines his fingers with mine and presses his thumb to my wrist.
Feeling my pulse and tapping out the rhythm.
I’m here, Riley. I’m not going anywhere.
CHAPTER 12
RILEY
The Hornets pulla win out of their ass that has Rory Mullins dragging us all down the street to some club for victory celebrations. Griff and I tried to weasel our way out of it, but our tiny winger has a stubborn streak a mile long.
