Page 66 of Rip Ryder's Second Chance

“You do? Call an exterminator, I hope.”

“We could always start meeting at your house. I bet your bathroom, and bed for that matter, is plenty big enough.” He didn’t expect a response to his question, and she didn’t disappoint. Every time he’d mentioned the subject before, she’d ignored him.

“I’m grateful this place has indoor plumbing. I can also tolerate the pet spiders. The mornings are getting nippy though. We might have to give that wood stove a whirl.” She gave her dog, Waffles, a scratch on the head. He was cuddled up on an old rug in front of the stove.

“Just so we’re clear, you don’t have to recite the “rules” every time we get together like I have a kindergarten education. Sex-only is pretty self-explanatory. We meet up three times a week, have a fun time, and then we go about our own business.”

“Do I sense some sarcasm in your tone?” She flicked an eyebrow as she recapped the whiskey bottle they were passing between them last night. “Are you feeling disrespected?”

“Nope. I’m capable of keeping my heart, and dick, in two different lanes.”

“Good news because I really like what we have here.”

Channing tried to conceal his relief. He wanted a relationship even less than she did. “Maybe you’re the one who needs reminded. You did seem pretty “in love” while you were screaming my name earlier. I guess we should be grateful this cabin is in the middle of nowhere otherwise the Sheriff might fine us for disturbing the peace.”

“Don’t let this,” she gestured between them and the bed, “go to your head, cowboy. I make lots of noise because I’m what they call “hyper-sensitive’.” One corner of her mouth played tug-of-war with a smile.

“I won’t argue that you’re sensitive, but there’s no denying we have chemistry.” He’d never been in a friends-with-benefits relationship before, at least not with someone who seemed completely satisfied with being used for sex. Most women wanted to date him. Was he losing his charm?

She crossed the small space of the rustic cabin and he watched the hypnotic swing of her bare, heart-shaped ass. A familiar awareness started tingling at the tips of his toes and spread through his body, nestling in his semi-hard shaft. He needed to get a handle on himself and not appear so eager. They were friends. Lovers. Hell, he wasn’t sure which label fit them better after four months of sneaking around like teenagers.

“I won’t deny that we definitely have a comfortable understanding. That’s why this works so well.” Her tone sounded a little strained. “No strings attached equals no worries. All the sex we want without the burden of judgement.” She pulled the large clip from her hair and the silken blanket of long, platinum-blonde locks cascaded down her shoulders and back. Channing had never really considered himself partial to one specific part of a woman’s body, but he liked her hair, and her slender neck, also her firm bottom, and the subtle jiggle of her inner thighs when he brought her to orgasm. His mouth salivated. Not once had he heard her complain about her fuller-figure, and he wouldn’t either. He found her self-confidence appealing, and he didn’t mind one damn bit that she walked around the tiny cabin as bare as the day she was born, oblivious, or maybe not, to the reaction of his tormented body.

He admired her self-assurance, in and out of bed.

Channing enjoyed what he and Sadie were sharing—but no chance in a million that he’d fall for her, even if he found himself smiling a lot more these days. She was beautiful, sexy, smart, and liked to try new things, but he wanted the simple life of a bachelor too much to allow his heart to get involved with her, or anyone. For the last few years, he’d focused on C&C Builders, a company he and his brother, Cross, had started together and business was good. Not only did he feel a sense of pride for the reputation they’d built in the community, but he also enjoyed working with his hands, seeing his hard labor come to fruition. Renovating homes and keeping up with his daily chores at Dawson Creek Ranch kept him busy. On occasion, he wondered what it’d be like to take Sadie out on a proper date, but the curiosity didn’t last long.

Maybe down the road at some point, but not now.

In his defense, a man needed to hold soft curves occasionally, and Sadie had plenty. She never asked any questions, mainly because she didn’t need to. They’d grown up in the same social circle, so they already knew a lot about each other and didn’t need a Q&A.

She flipped her hair over one shoulder, and he groaned. She could easily be described as spunky, interesting, and could steal anyone’s attention when she walked into the room.

She also liked to keep Channing on his toes.

Last night, she’d made it to the cabin before him and when he walked inside, he found her wearing a large, red bow tied around her waist and matching heels. They’d barely made it to the bed before he “opened” his gift.

Now, he watched her slip the polka-dotted thong up her thighs and snapped the elastic into place on her flared hips. His sudden problem was difficult to fit behind the zipper of his jeans, but he needed to be heading out. He had errands to run and places to be. Squinting, he adjusted himself, thankful his Wranglers had some give.

Searching for his shirt, he finally found it shoved under the bed. Dragging the cotton over his head, he tugged the material down over his waist and watched while Sadie brushed her hair. Coiled waves sprung to life, much like what was occurring inside him. She had no idea how the innocent act of getting ready turned him on. His heart raced and his palms turned sweaty. With a slight arching of her back, he saw the tell-tale traces of wide finger marks on her pale skin. He’d gripped her thick thighs while he had her bent over the side of the bed. Sometimes he got carried away, but she’d assured him she didn’t want him to hold back. He didn’t mind giving her what she wanted, but he was fully aware that at six-three, weighing two-ten, he needed to be careful.

Stepping toward her, he touched one of the marks on her thigh. She gave a little jerk and looked up at him through the veil of her lashes, her bottom lip trembling.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a breathless tone.

“You have a bruise.”

She laughed and set the brush down. “You look like you’re concerned.”

“I am. What are you? Five-two, weighing one-twenty soaking wet? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sadie stared at him through the reflection of the mirror while she fixed her hair into a topknot. “Relax, Channing. You didn’t hurt me.”

With her reassurance, he picked up his socks and boots and carried them over to the bed and sat down. “What do you have going on today?”

“A meeting and then clients all afternoon.” She shook out the wrinkles from her shirt and pants then stepped into the bathroom. “I really am glad we have an understanding, Channing,” she called through the open door.

He concentrated on pulling his socks on now that the battle for his attention was gone. “Don’t worry. Out of all my brothers, I’m the sensible one.” At least he thought he was since all the others were hitched, or dang near close.

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