Page 125 of The Vacation Mix-Up
My greedy hands creep underneath my jacket, sliding across the satin on her back before dipping to her ass, her cheeks firm but supple. I clench my fingers, and she inhales sharply, gripping me tighter as she lifts her leg and presses it against my hip, my hand moving to her thigh and holding it in place.
“Mommy, Mommy! Look at the pretty lights,” a little girl says in the distance.
Panting, Riles breaks away from me faster than a speedingbullet and palms my chest, her breasts rising and falling, her eyes scanning the deck for where the interruption came from.
Pissed but also fucking thrilled, I hug her to me and kiss the top of her head.
I knew it!
Her lips against mine once again shifted the earth on its axis.
chapter nineteen
RILES
Sweet mother of passionate lip-locking!
Slowing my racing heart, I snuggle into Riley’s chest, delighting in his scent and body heat. Delighting in simply being in a man’s arms again. I can’t remember the last time I felt the way I feel now, able to count on one hand the men I’ve been intimate with. Men I’ve shared more than a bed with. Men I’ve cried over while throwing their toothbrush in the trash. And yet none of them felt like this… like a home I never knew I had.
Turning in his arms, I face the stern again as he hugs me under the mystical skies above. Thank God a family joined us for the spectacular view, because without their interruption, I don’t think I would’ve had the strength to stop when we did.
And we needed to stop.
He nudges my neck with his nose, his breath hot against my ear. “Was that kissincredibletoo?”
I smirk. “Yes.”
“Good. We’re on the same page then.”
Grasping the railing, I clench it tight, needing it for balance, my legs trembling. His hands glide across my waist, tugging me to him, his erection pressing into the apex of my ass.
I bite my lip. “And what pageis that?”
“The page where we see where this leads.”
Mesmerized by the twinkling stars and verdant glow, a palpable magic fills the air, a magic I can’t ignore, because moments like these happen for a reason. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I whisper. “You’ve been through a lot. And you’re still working through?—”
“Never been surer.”
I draw in a deep breath then let it out again, wanting to believe him. But what he shared with his ex-wife—their many years together, the loss of a child—none of that goes away in the blink of an eye, no matter how hard you try to bury it out of anger.
“Stop, Riles,” he says, resting his head on my shoulder.
“Stop what?”
“Stop filling your head with negatives.”
“Negatives are important.”
“So are positives.”
A memory of Mom, standing in our living room with a box full of my stepfather’s things, bursts into my mind.
“Why aren’t you mad?”I asked, sad and angry enough for us both. “He can’t just up and leave like this.”
“He’s not just upping and leaving, Riley. We’ve grown apart. It happens.”
I pressed my head against the window and looked out at the street below. “I don’t understand.”
