“Good girl,” he says, and passes me a steaming cup of coffee, black.
Just the way I like it.
“I put my shirt on you last night. I don’t know where you keep your things, and you couldn’t sleep in your clothes.”
“I’m still in my bra and panties.”
He nods. “The first time I see you completely bare, you’ll be conscious and a willing partner.”
“Sounds fair.” I offer him a small smile, already starting to feel better. “The coffee is working.”
“It’s my smoothie,” he says with confidence. “You’re beautiful in the morning.”
“Oh, I can just imagine how I must look right now,” I reply. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“This isn’t how I envisioned our first morning together.”
He just smiles and passes me some toast. “Did you have fun last night?”
I nod and take a bite. “We try to do a girls’ night about once a month. Catch up, laugh, drink.”
“Let off some steam,” he says.
“Pretty much.” I finish one half of the toast and take the other half. “This is nice.”
“What’s that?”
“Having someone here to help me feel better,” I admit, and duck my head. “Silly, huh?”
“Not at all.” He drags his knuckles down my cheek. “I bet a shower will help you feel better too.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Yes. I’m quite sure I stink. We might have to burn this shirt when I’m finished with it.”
“I think that’s a bit extreme,” he says with a laugh. “You don’t smell bad.”
“No lying.” I throw his words back at him.
“Okay, you don’t smell horrible.”
I smirk and throw the covers back. “Okay, to the shower I go. I’d invite you, but this isn’t going to be pretty.”
“Next time,” he says. The tone of his voice has me turn back to look at him. He’s watching me with the eyes of a predator. He wants me.
Thank God.
But the conversation from last night comes back to me. What, exactly, does he want? I’m not sure, but I don’t think a guy who’s interested in a quick fuck would spend the time taking care of me this morning.
It’s a conversation we should have.
Later.
After I’ve had a shower and pulled myself together.
Chapter Six
~Trevor~
Riley is the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of very interesting people.
I’m on my way back to her place after I ran home to quickly shower, change, and gather a few things to throw in my car in case I end up spending the night with her.
I really fucking hope she lets me stay with her.
Keeping my hands off her has become the challenge of the year. Even this morning, when she stared at me through her tousled hair, her makeup smudged on her face, I wanted to tuck her under me and fuck her all day long. My hormones are working overtime lately.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I pull into her driveway and walk inside without knocking, per her request earlier.
“Riley?” I call out.
“In the kitchen,” she replies, and smiles at me as I turn the corner to find her. “I’m getting a head start on food.”
“It’s only three,” I remind her, and stare in horror at the mess she’s already made.
“I know, but I want the sauce to simmer for a bit.” She points to a stool on the other side of the island. “Sit. Watch.”
“I can help.”
“No.” She shakes her head vigorously. “I can do this.”
“What are you making?”
She finishes chopping an onion. I’m relieved because I expected her to chop off her finger any second.
“Spaghetti.”
“From scratch?”
“Well, the pasta isn’t from scratch. Don’t tell Mia.”
I rest my chin in my hand, leaning on the bar, so I can just sit and watch her move about her space. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I am making the sauce from scratch. It’s almost ready to simmer.”
“Awesome.”
“You’re making me nervous,” she announces.
“Why?”
“Because you really know how to do all of this and I’m not great at it.”
I shrug. “You’re doing great.”
“Talk. That’ll make me feel less like you’re judging every move I make.”
“What would you like me to talk about?”
She measures the tomato sauce and shrugs. “Tell me about your family.”
“Well, I told you about my sisters.”
“Do you have any brothers?”
“No, it’s just the three of us.”
She nods and scratches her cheek, leaving a red streak of sauce there.
She’s fucking adorable.
“Parents still married?”
“No. Yours?”
“My dad passed away when I was a teenager. Mom remarried six months later.”
“That was quick.”
“She was lonely. I’m an only child, and Mom’s one of those people who just can’t be alone, you know? She would never cheat on her husband. But she doesn’t do well single. So it didn’t surprise her family at all when she got married right away.”
“My ex was like that,” I reply with a nod. “She was engaged to marry someone else before the ink was dry on our divorce. Also, she did cheat on me, so she was different in that regard.”
“That sucks,” Riley says with a frown. “I don’t get the whole cheating thing. I mean, if you want to fuck around with other people, just leave the relationship you’re already in.”
“I think that for her, she enjoyed the secrets. Like, it was a game to her to see how long she could go until I caught her.”
“And how long did she go?”
“About two months,” I reply, and nod when Riley holds up a bottle of water. “I would have caught her sooner, but I was already traveling a lot for my job.”
“And let me guess,” Riley says, “she said she was lonely because you were gone so much.”
“Of course.” I take a swig of water. “Apparently, I was taking too long to figure it out because I came home from the airport one evening and they were fucking in my bed.”
“Ouch,” she says with a cringe. “Not cool.”
“Not cool,” I agree.
“Did you punch him? Did she cry and tug on your arm while she clutched the sheet to her breasts and begged you to understand?”
I lean back and laugh, delighted with Riley. God, she’s a breath of fresh air.
“No, nothing that dramatic.”
“Damn.”
She turns away, her hips swaying back and forth to a tune in her head as she pulls the refrigerator door open and stares inside, looking for something. Her hair is up in a messy bun, she’s wearing black yoga pants and an oversized pink T-shirt that falls off one shoulder.
I’ve never wanted to kiss a shoulder so bad in my life.
“What did happen?” she asks from inside the fridge.
“I waited for them to see me, then turned and walked out without a word.”
“Wow,” she says, and stirs her sauce. “That’s telling.”
“How so?”
“Well, if you were deeply in love with her, you would have been devastated when you found her bumping uglies with the other dude. To walk away calmly tells me that you weren’t that invested.”
“Interesting.” I take another sip of water, thinking about her theory. “I believed I loved her.”
“Being in love and loving someone are two very different things,” she says. “Did she protest when you told her you wanted a divorce?”
“No.” I shake my head and push my glasses up my nose. “We agreed that it was time to go our own ways.”
“So, no fights? No hard feelings?”
“We didn’t really fight,�
�� I reply, wondering why this subject isn’t making me very uncomfortable with Riley. “I wasn’t excited about paying her alimony for three years, but aside from that, it was pretty low-key.”
“And she’s remarried?”
“Yep, to the dude she was fucking in my bed. It’s their bed now.”
“That’s weird,” she says, scrunching up her face. “I mean, I would not want to keep a bed that my guy had sex with his wife in. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I let her have it.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“I’m not,” I reply honestly.
Her head comes up in surprise. “You’re not?”
“No. Divorce was inevitable. We just didn’t work well as a partnership. We wanted different things, had different philosophies.”
“You’re very grown up,” she says, tilting her head to the side the way she does that makes me want to pull her to me and kiss the hell out of her. “I like that about you.”
I chuckle as I stand and walk over to where she’s stirring her sauce. She takes a taste off her spoon, then holds it up for me to taste as well.
But rather than take it from the spoon, I lean in and kiss her. Thoroughly. She’s soft, and willing and so fucking sweet. She leans into me just as I take the spoon from her hand and lay it down, then pull her into my arms, enjoying the way her body fits against mine.
When I finally pull back, I smile down into her face and drag my fingertips down her cheek. “It tastes delicious.”
“What does?”
Her eyes are hooded, and she licks her lips, still holding on to me.
“The sauce.”
“What sauce?”
I kiss her forehead and then her lips again. “The sauce you made for us.”
“Oh, right.” She nudges her nose against mine. “I don’t care about the sauce.”
“I do.” I hug her tightly, and then pull away. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too, but it isn’t for spaghetti,” she mutters as she returns to stirring the sauce. “So you and your ex are still friendly?”
“Talking about my ex isn’t exactly what I like to do when I’m thinking about kissing you,” I inform her, and lean my hips on the counter.
“I’m trying to slow my roll here,” she says with a laugh. “So just humor me.”
“We’re on good terms, yes.”
“But you’re not weird like Cami, right?”
“How is Cami weird?”
“She’s not only on good terms with her ex, she’s pretty much besties with him. And she tried to set him up with all of us. She cares about him, but knew they shouldn’t be married. She felt so guilty, she just wanted him to find happiness.”
“Never heard that one before,” I say, rubbing my fingers over my lips. “No, I’m not friends with her like that. Unless we have business stuff to talk about, like alimony payments or paperwork, we don’t really speak.”
“Are you friends on Facebook?” she asks, her eyes narrowed.
“No,” I reply. “And I’m rarely on there anyway.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Okay, it sounds normal.”
“What about you? Are you still besties with all of your exes?”
“I’ve never been married,” she replies with a frown.
“Boyfriends?”
“Well, clearly Dave and I aren’t friends,” she says while rolling her eyes. “I mean, ew. No, I’m not friends with anyone I’ve ever dated in the past. I just think it’s weird when it’s over. I’m not really jealous, I just don’t want to know. You know?”
“I do.”
“Are you hungry?” she asks. “I can start the pasta now if you are.”
“Oh, I’m hungry,” I reply, and watch as she glances up and her eyes widen. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hungry.”
She frowns, and I immediately know that I’ve said the wrong thing.
“Are we not on the same page, Ri? Because you’ve been sending out some pretty strong sexy signals.”
“We’re on the same page,” she says, and pours pasta into boiling water. “I wanted to text you about this last night when I was drunk but Kat wouldn’t let me.”
“Probably not a good idea,” I agree, and take her hand in mine, linking our fingers. “What’s up?”
“So—” She bites her lip and looks down. Her cheeks are flushed.
“No need to be embarrassed.”
“I’m not,” she says, and wrinkles her nose. “Maybe I could text it to you now. It would be easier.”
“It’s like a Band-Aid, babe, just say it.”
“I just . . .” She rolls her eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Jesus, I’m a grown-ass woman. Okay, here’s the thing: I don’t do flings.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, I don’t judge those who do. My friends have in the past, and I don’t have an issue with that. To each their own.”
“Right.”
“But for me”—she points at her chest—“I don’t like it.”
She sighs as if she’s just admitted to committing murder.
“No flings.” I nod once. “Got it.”
“Do you?” She’s staring up at me with pleading eyes now. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
“I was hoping there was more to this explanation,” I reply.
“Okay. The one-night stand, or short-term fuck-buddy thing doesn’t interest me.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t interest me either.”
“And you don’t live here.”
Ah.
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“So, I guess the point of all of this is, I don’t know what you want.” She holds her hands up in frustration. “If you just want a fuck buddy for while you’re working in Portland, I’m not your girl. And I’m not saying we have to get married next week, because that’s just crazy.”
“But there should be something in between,” I finish for her, and she smiles softly.
“Exactly.”
“Well, let me say this. I don’t know where this might go later, but I am not simply interested in fucking you and leaving in a few weeks without looking back. You intrigue me, Riley, and this hasn’t happened in a very long time for me.”
“It’s complicated,” she says. “We live in different cities and you travel a lot.”
“Yes, geography isn’t on our side,” I reply with a smile. I reach out and cup her cheek in my palm. “I am not psychic. I don’t know how either of us will feel in a few weeks. I do know that today I’m enjoying your company very much. You make me laugh, you make me think. And you make me so fucking horny my teeth ache.”
“Those are all nice things,” she whispers.
“So no, I don’t want a fling either. I want to get to know you better.”
“That would be nice.”
I grin and lean in to brush my lips over hers. “And I think our sex timeline just changed.”
“What? Why?” Her eyes widen again in panic.
“Because this isn’t a sprint, sweetheart. It’s a marathon. There’s no hurry.”
“Damn it,” she grumbles, and loads our plates full of steaming food. “Okay. I guess we can just eat, then. Can we at least make out later?”
“Well, duh.”
I fucking hate today. It’s Monday, and everything that can possibly go wrong, is. Not to mention stuff I haven’t even thought about.
“What the fuck!” Mia exclaims as she surveys the delivery that just arrived. “I don’t have any of the ingredients I special-ordered for filming today.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” the delivery guy says, “someone screwed up and didn’t include it. I won’t have it for you until tomorrow.”
“That’s not okay,” Mia replies. I’m pretty sure that if looks could kill, this dude would be in big trouble.
“There’s nothing I can do,” he says with a shrug, and turns to leave.
“Jesus,” she whispers, pinching the
bridge of her nose. “I guess I can just go to the grocery store to buy the stuff, but it’s a pain in the ass.”
“We’re already behind on filming,” I remind her. Thanks to the lights blowing up this morning when they were dropped, I’ve had to send people out to buy new bulbs.
“I can’t make the food magically appear,” she says, turning her glare on me.
“Clearly not,” I reply, and shove my hand through my hair. “We’ll film it tomorrow.”
“Great.” She tosses a pan across the room to the sink. “I get to put this disgusting makeup on again tomorrow.”
“Not my fault your delivery people fucked up,” I reply, and brace myself for a fight just as Riley walks through the door.
“Listen to me, asshole,” Mia begins.
“Hey,” Riley says, standing between us. “What’s up?”
“He’s pissing me off,” Mia says.
“Let’s take a break.” Riley pulls me out of the kitchen by the arm and leads me to her office. She shuts the door behind us. “What’s going on?”
“This is a motherfucker of a day,” I reply, and sit in a chair heavily. “Lights broke, sound isn’t working right, the food wasn’t delivered. Everyone is in a bad freaking mood.”
“Including you,” she says, earning a stare from me.
“Not to mention I got a fantastic lecture from my boss this morning because losing even one day of filming costs the network money.”
“It happens,” she replies. She’s not mocking me, she’s being exactly what I need right now: the calm in the storm.
“It’s a Monday.”
“Maybe you should call it a day,” she suggests, and cups my cheek in her hand, smiling down at me. I reach out and tug her into my lap so I can hug her close. She smells like vanilla.
“You feel great.”
She kisses the top of my head. “It’s all going to be okay, Trevor. Call it a day for now, regroup, and try again tomorrow.”
“That won’t make my boss any less pissed.”
“Turn the sound off on your phone. You’re the man on the ground, and you’re here doing your job. Obviously, they trust your judgment. When will you have new lights?”
“Tomorrow. And the food will be here tomorrow as well.”
“See? You can’t do any more today.”
I lean back so I can look up into her beautiful face. She’s brushing the hair out of my eyes.
The Beauty of Us (Fusion #4) Page 6