by K. Street
“It’s true.”
“Well, thank you for saying that.”
“How do you not see what I see?”
She shrugged. “I guess when you’ve been made to feel average your entire life, it’s hard to see yourself as anything else.”
It was the last thing I’d expected her to say, and the look of vulnerability in her eyes had me tamping down the anger welling inside me.
She bit her bottom lip.
I skimmed the tip of my thumb over it, tugging it free. Then, I took her face between my palms.
Seconds ticked by as my stare bore into hers. When I spoke my next words, I needed her to hear me. Needed to incinerate the bullshit lie. Because the woman before me was anything but ordinary.
“I assure you, sweetheart, there isn’t a motherfucking thing about you that’s average. Or ordinary.”
Presley opened her mouth to speak. I ghosted my lips over hers before she had the chance to utter a word.
I moved my hands from her face to her hips and lowered my head until my forehead rested on hers.
“You were the last good thing before my life went to hell that night. Maybe I didn’t remember you at first, but hear me when I say, I have remembered everything since then.” I splayed my hand over her hip. Using my thumb, I lightly rubbed the fabric of her dress near her belly button. “You have a birthmark right here. Like an artist dipped the tip of their brush in melted caramel and stroked it over your skin.”
Presley’s breath hitched.
I kept going, “You have the most soulful eyes I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking into. You don’t always speak your mind. You exercise restraint.” I kissed her eyelids. “But these eyes reveal everything you hold back.”
She fisted my cotton T-shirt. “Ryder.”
I kept my gaze on her as I began to explore her body with my hands. I gently dragged my fingers from her shoulders, down her arms, over her hips, and then ventured upward, traveling over the curve of her breasts before I tenderly grasped the back of her head with one hand and softly gripped her chin with the other.
“I see you, Presley”—I swept the pad of my thumb across her cheek—“and you are breathtaking.”
“Ryder.” Her whimper went straight to my cock, testing the limits of my self-control.
I wanted to devour her. Ravage her mouth and claim her body.
I’d told her she deserved more.
And fuck me …
I want to be her more.
I caressed her skin. Dragging my knuckles along her cheek. Granite against velvet. My languid touch traveled to her neck, halting when I reached the base of her throat.
Presley’s pulse quickened beneath my palm. Thrumming harder with each passing second.
Her breath stuttered. The staccato pitch proving just how much I affected her.
My stare shifted from her eyes and settled on her pretty mouth.
She licked her perfect, pouty pink lips.
My mouth hovered above hers.
Her exhale was my inhale.
I trailed my tongue over the seam of her lips.
A small gasp escaped her then.
Unable to wait any longer, I kissed her. Delicate and sensual. Sucking her bottom lip between my teeth.
Presley roamed her hands over my chest to the nape of my neck and burrowed her fingers in my hair, tugging me closer.
She parted on a moan.
The sound was my undoing.
I slipped the tip of my tongue into her mouth, swirling it with hers.
Every lick fueled the fire between us.
Angling her head, I took the kiss deeper.
She met me stroke for stroke, holding nothing back.
“Presley,” I growled against her lips.
I yanked my mouth away and bent low, bunching the material of her too-long dress in my hands. My mouth returned to hers. Grasping her ass, I pressed her into my achingly hard dick.
I swallowed her moan and gripped her thighs, lifting her into my arms.
Operating on instinct, she wrapped her legs around me as I carried her to the couch.
I lowered onto the soft leather with Presley straddling my lap.
I gently bit her bottom lip and then kissed my way across her jaw to the spot just below her ear, where I sucked the sensitive flesh.
She peppered kisses along my jawline. Nipping her way down my neck.
I dug my fingers into her thighs.
“Ryder. Please.”
Thirteen
Presley
“Please what? Tell me what you want, Pres,” Ryder whispered against the shell of my ear.
His warm breath stoked the fire inside me.
“Touch me.”
Ryder leaned back, taking me in. The lust in his eyes made the green darker somehow. His gaze held me captive. “Where do you want me to touch you?”
Anywhere.
Everywhere.
I tore my eyes from his and dropped my gaze.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I asked, a hint of defiance in my tone.
“Hide from me.”
“I’m not.”
He seized my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Then, look at me.”
Reluctantly, I gave in to his request.
“Don’t hold back. Tell me what you want.” His hands skimmed up my thighs, inching closer to the place I needed him most. “I’ll take care of you. The only thing I won’t give you tonight is my cock.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve more, and when I get the privilege of fucking you again, I’m going to take it slow. Make you scream my name. Bury myself inside you for hours. Tonight, we just don’t have that kind of time. So, aside from my cock, sweetheart, tell me what you want.”
His words made me brave, and I slid one of my hands over his, guiding it to my core.
Ryder hissed when he grazed the wet satin fabric. The only barrier between his fingers and my pleasure.
Then, I licked my lips and leaned in until my mouth was close to his ear. “I need you to make me come.”
“Fuck,” he groaned before crushing his lips to mine.
Edging my panties out of the way, he slipped a long, thick finger inside me. His thumb moved in a circular motion over my clit.
I whimpered at the contact.
Ryder kissed his way down my neck.
My head fell back, granting him more access.
He added another finger.
“Oh God. Yes,” I panted.
“Shh.”
“More.”
He added a third finger and rotated his wrist. The beckoning motion became faster, driving me closer to my tipping point.
Fire blazed its way through my cells. Barreling up my body.
Ryder’s free hand dived into my hair, fisting the strands. He crashed his mouth over mine, swallowing my moans.
I rode out my orgasm while Ryder muted my pleasure-filled cries.
My lungs screamed for oxygen.
I dropped my forehead to his shoulder, panting hard.
He slowly withdrew his fingers, adjusted my panties, and then splayed his hands over my ass. The movement brought our bodies flush.
“That was …” Words failed me. “Wow.”
Ryder’s low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “The pleasure was all mine.” He licked the evidence of my arousal from his skin.
There was no hiding his erection—long, hard, and thick beneath me.
I used his shoulders for leverage, eased off his lap, and knelt between his legs. Then, I reached for the elastic waistband of his shorts.
He clasped my wrist and brought my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I would return the favor.”
He released his hold, and then he smoothed my tangled locks and patted the couch next to him.
I took a seat, angling my body toward him.
Ryder took my hands in his and looked into my eyes. “As much as I would
love nothing more than to have your pretty mouth sheathing my cock, tonight is about you. I’m not looking for quid pro quo.” He swept his thumb along my lip. “I never want you to think for a single second that me not kissing you the other night was because I didn’t want you.” He glanced down at his lap. “Obviously, I want you. Badly.” He kissed me, slow and sweet, before he pulled back and met my eyes. “Regardless of the circumstance, I made you feel used once, and so help me, I never want to make you feel that way again.”
Nobody had ever looked at me the way Ryder was looking at me.
He regarded me as though I was some precious artifact or priceless treasure.
I cupped his face in my hands. Enjoying the way his scruff scratched against my palms. I captured his mouth in a kiss. Pouring everything—all the emotions I was too scared to identify—into it.
As much as I wanted to safeguard my heart, it was too late for that.
Fourteen
Ryder
The Florida summer sun was at our backs as Zeke, Turtle, and I made our way through the neighborhood. Though it was early evening, it was still balls hot. Cloud cover and the ocean breeze offered a little reprieve but not much.
“When we get home, can I have ice cream?” Zeke asked as he jumped over a crack in the sidewalk.
He had polished off the last of it the other night, and I had yet to schedule grocery delivery or make time to go shopping.
“After Turtle’s walk, how about we go out for ice cream?”
“Yes!” He fist-pumped the air. “I want chocolate with rainbow sprinkles and marshmallows and gummy bears.”
“We’ll see, kid.” I ruffled his hair with my free hand.
We came to the corner, crossed over to the next street, and continued walking.
Zeke skipped ahead, and Turtle trotted next to him while I brought up the rear, securely holding Turtle’s leash in my hand.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I realized we were walking on the same street where Presley lived.
Only a handful of days had passed since I’d made her come. She wasn’t just under my skin. It went so much deeper than that. Presley made me want more.
“Ryder.” Zeke’s voice broke through the haze.
“Yeah, bud?”
He came to a stop a few feet in front of me. “Look, it’s Presley. Can we go say hi?”
We stood on the sidewalk at the end of her driveway. The open curtains gave an unobstructed view into her living room, and I couldn’t have held back my laughter if I tried.
Presley twirled around her living room while holding what looked like a Swiffer. Dressed in a tank top and a pair of tiny shorts. Hair piled on top of her head. Mouth moving like she was singing.
“Why is she dancing with a pole?” Zeke asked.
Still laughing, I said, “I’m not sure. And it’s a broom.”
Zeke giggled. “Brooms are for sweeping. Not dancing. Girls are so weird.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Can Presley come with us to get ice cream?”
“We can ask her, but she might be busy.”
“She was dancing with a broom. That is not busy.”
Together, we made the short trek to the front door, rang the bell, and waited. The familiar beat of “Uptown Funk” drifted through the wood.
“Maybe she can’t hear us.” He pounded his little fist on the door.
Then, Turtle started barking.
Finally, Presley peeked out the window, slamming her hand over her heart at the sight of the three of us standing there.
Her expression went from shocked to mortified in an instant. Pouty lips formed the perfect O, and then she mouthed what looked like, My God.
Seconds later, the music fell silent, and there was a pregnant pause before she finally opened the door, looking sheepish.
“Um. Hi. Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Why were you dancing with your broom?” Zeke asked.
A beautiful shade of crimson painted her cheeks.
“You saw that, huh?” She bit her lip.
“It was quite the show. You should think about auditioning for Lip Sync Battle.” I shot her a teasing smirk.
She buried her face in her hands and laughed. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. It was the second-best highlight of my week.”
Presley dropped her hands and lifted her head. “Second best? What was the first?”
I arched a brow and gave her a pointed look.
Her blush deepened, and I knew she was remembering exactly what I’d done to her the other night on my couch.
“Oh. Right. Well, um, do you guys want to come inside?” She bent to pet Turtle. “Hey, boy. How are you?”
The dog nuzzled into her palm.
“We are going to get ice cream. Want to come with us?” Zeke asked, voice hopeful.
Presley didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to.” She righted herself and glanced down at her clothes. “Can I have a few minutes to get ready? I’m sort of a hot mess.”
She had the hot part right.
I wished she’d turn around and give me a glimpse of her perfect ass in those booty shorts. However, the thought of anyone else checking out her backside didn’t sit well with me.
“Sure. We’ll finish our walk, get cleaned up, and then come back to pick you up. That should give you about thirty minutes.”
“Okay.”
My gaze settled on her lips. Damn, I wanted to kiss her. But since we had an audience, it would have to wait.
“Come on. I really, really, really want ice cream,” Zeke declared.
Presley and I both laughed.
“All right. We’re going. See you in a bit, Pres.”
“Bye, boys.” She waved us off as I led our little trio down the drive to the sidewalk.
Thirty minutes later, I picked Presley up, and we made the fifteen-minute drive to the ice cream parlor.
“We’re here. We’re here,” Zeke announced from the backseat when I pulled my truck into the parking lot of The Sprinkle Shack.
“Hang tight,” I instructed before climbing out of the cab and walking around to the passenger side.
I opened Presley’s door first and then Zeke’s.
Presley climbed out of the truck. “What a charming little shop.” Her face lit up as she took in the storefront.
Pink-striped pillars flanked the doorway. White scalloped trim framed each of the large windows.
“It looks like something straight out of Candy Land.” Her voice was filled with awe.
“Wait until you see the inside.”
“Can I get two scoops?” Zeke looked up at me through his long lashes.
“We’ll see,” I told him and then focused my gaze on Presley.
The bell over the door chimed as I opened it and ushered Presley and Zeke inside.
Presley inhaled. “It smells like heaven.”
“Or a sugar coma.” I chuckled.
Awe danced in her eyes as she took in the space. From the wall of sprinkle and candy dispensers to the alternating squares of color block tile.
“Wow. It really is like Candy Land.”
A tall, pimply-faced kid wearing a black hat with colorful sprinkles stood behind the counter. “Welcome to The Sprinkle Shack. What can I get you?”
Zeke jumped up. “Excuse me. Down here.”
The teenager grinned at Zeke. “Hey, kid. What’ll you have?”
“I will have”—he held up two fingers—“two scoops of chocolate. And I want sprinkles. And marshmallows. Oh, and gummy bears.”
“Okay.” The boy nodded and then looked at me for approval.
His name tag read Mickey, and I caught myself before I made a horrible Disney pun.
I ruffled Zeke’s hair. “How about one scoop with marshmallows and gummy bears? Easy on the sprinkles.”
“All right. But when I am six, I am going to get two scoops.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
My attention shifted to Presley, who
had been studying the menu board.
Needing to touch her, I placed a hand on the small of her back. “Do you know what you want?”
She glanced at me over her shoulder, meeting my gaze. The look in her eyes said everything her mouth didn’t.
Mickey cleared his throat, reminding us we weren’t alone.
Presley turned her attention to the counter. “Sorry. I’ll have the banana caramel crunch in a waffle cone. Please,” she said.
“Let me have two scoops of butter pecan. In a regular cone.”
“I’ll have those right up,” Mickey assured us and began making our order.
Zeke moved to the other counter to watch Mickey.
Presley stood beside me, laughing. “Butter pecan? What are you, sixty?”
“You should never mock a man’s choice of ice cream, sweetheart.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck, tickling her with my scruff.
“Oh my God.” She giggled. “Stop. We’re in public.”
“And?”
“Ryder, behave.”
I released her. “Fine. I’ll be good. For now.”
“Ryder, can I go look at the cakes?” Zeke asked.
“Sure, bud.”
He darted around the counter to the freezer case and then called out, “Presley, come see.”
“I’ll be right there.” She opened the wristlet dangling from her arm and proceeded to pull out a few bills.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
“Um, paying for my ice cream.”
“No.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but I silenced her with a chaste kiss.
“This isn’t an argument you’re going to win.”
“Fine.” She tucked the bills away. “Thank you.” She shot a gorgeous smile at me before following my little brother.
A few minutes later, Mickey had our order ready. I paid for our frozen treats, and then we headed across the street to Sugar Sand Park and made a beeline for the pavilions.
We took a seat at one of the open picnic tables. Presley and I sat next to each other while Zeke sat across from us.
“After I eat my ice cream, can I go play?” Zeke swirled his spoon into the melting chocolate.
“Sure,” I told him.