Seeing her fully clothed, riding him, wasn’t what he’d pictured alone in his bed every night this week, stroking himself to a shuddering climax. But the illicitness, the risk, and, yeah, the thrill of it jacked him up high and fast.
Voice hoarse with need, Riley said, “I want to see your breasts.”
“You can’t. Public street, remember?” She bobbed and twisted, up and down, and the position put him so fucking deep inside her Riley felt like they’d merged into a single mass of joined pleasure.
“I want to suck on your nipples until you squirm. I want to tongue your clit until you scream.”
Summer smiled. Sensuously. Knowingly. Full of womanly wiles that sucked him in stronger than quicksand. “You can’t.”
“I can. I will,” he promised darkly. “Later. I’ll have all of you later.”
“Okay.”
“Put your hands on the ceiling. It’ll help you move.”
“Thought you were doing that.”
“I’ve got something better to do with my hands.” Riley reached around beneath the fucking acres of skirt to palm her sweet, sweet ass. He bent his knee to keep the skirt lifted. Then he swatted her. Not hard enough to cause pain, but hard enough to bring her awareness to the feel of his hand on her ass. To overexcite the nerve endings close to where they were joined. To help send her over the edge.
It worked. She arched her back, rubbed against him, and increased the rhythmic up-and-down plunge of her body. “Riley,” she cried.
“More?”
“Yes.”
He swatted her again. Wished they were in front of a mirror so that he could see what had to be the pinking up of her oh-so-firm ass. But there’d be time later. He’d see to it.
He swatted her a third time, knowing how much she liked it. And this time, he used his other hand to circle her clit.
“Riley!” she screamed.
“That’s it, babe. Let go.”
“With you,” she panted.
“Hell, yes. I’m right there with you.” He’d been ready from the moment she’d straddled him. Finger pinching her clit, he brought his left hand up to squeeze her breast. And that tipped them both over the edge. Summer screamed, her legs flailing against the seat and the weight of her body dropping against the hand that held her breast. Riley groaned—as promised—working his hips an extra-hard two pumps as all his excitement and want spilled into her.
It may have lasted only four and a half minutes according to the dashboard clock, but Riley felt as satisfied as if it’d been forty minutes. Drained and fulfilled and just fucking great. He pulled her close to lie on his chest. Folded his arms around her heaving back through their deep pants as their breathing slowed. It didn’t matter that they were in a car. It didn’t matter that they could be discovered at any second. That he might very well lose his job if anyone took a photo and posted it online.
All that mattered was that he had turned Summer on, and brought her release. That they’d found it together.
He knew he should be worried about that.
Later.
Chapter 14
Summer paused in front of the floor-to-ceiling poster behind the reception desk at Satellite Entertainment Radio. Across the top it said All the Naked Men You Want! Her newish friends, the ACSs, were all larger than life. The publicity shot caught them in open-necked shirts, sport coats, and wind-tousled hair on the balcony of the POV bar, with the Washington Monument spearing behind them in what could not have been a coincidental use of a phallic symbol. They were laughing at what had to be an inside joke, because it didn’t look posed or forced; just fun. More to the point, Riley wasn’t wearing his thoughtful, guarded, and watchful expression. He looked relaxed and happy.
Just the way he’d looked in her bed this morning.
And yesterday morning.
The thing about Riley Ness? He had staying power. The man was a lovemaking machine. Tireless. Tirelessly inventive. And every single time he told her to come in that throaty growl, she did. They’d made it to dinner Friday night. Then hadn’t left the bed again until they needed dinner last night.
He’d been true to his word: Riley had started a fire without a match on her balcony. Three different ways. Which was pretty much the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Summer didn’t doubt for a second that this man could keep her well-fed, sheltered, and protected on a desert island, stranded in a blizzard, and everywhere in between. What more could a woman ask for?
Oh, yeah. A man who knew all the words to all of Hercules Mulligan’s songs in Hamilton. When she’d asked him why not Jefferson or Burr? Riley said it was because Mulligan was a badass and those other two were obvious.
A man who spent an hour scrolling through the Web trying to prove to her with a slew of adorable pictures that she should get a corgi. Summer told him she’d never get a pet. Because that required planning for the future. His response had been to tell her that she should plan to have a double orgasm within the next hour.
And she did.
Clearly they’d still done a do-si-do or twelve around how opposite they were. Not just her insistence on no pets. Her insistence on no long-term responsibilities of any kind. No time to waste in a day with his brand of excess caution.
Riley actually made her put her blinker on when nobody was behind her for at least half a mile. She’d been prepared to go ballistic about the lack of necessity and the unnecessary wear and tear on her index finger, for crying out loud. But when those green eyes had focused on her and insisted that her safety was more important than convenience? It was impossible to say no to someone whose every action, every thought, was fueled by the need to keep her safe.
In fact, instead of chafing at her, his constant concern felt like a silken blanket of protection.
“Josh, get in front of us,” Riley ordered.
Finger-combing the blond hair falling over his forehead, Josh asked, “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you looking up Summer’s skirt as we climb the stairs.”
“I would never.”
Summer laughed. His aggrieved tone and dramatic smoothing of his blue soccer jersey with the Italian flag over the breast was the very picture of wounded innocence. Innocence that she didn’t buy for a millisecond.
“Bullshit.” Logan slapped the cargo pocket of his shorts. Something rattled. Even though he wasn’t off rebuilding disaster zones anymore, he still filled his pockets with “necessities”— necessities according to him, anyway. They’d teased him at the beach when he’d had to unload it all before playing volleyball. “Of course you’d steal a peek. You’d never touch Summer, but who doesn’t look when someone waves a beautiful woman in front of them?”
“Nobody’s that buttoned up,” Knox agreed. “Riley, you’d better go last, behind her. Because men are dogs. But appreciative ones. And you, my voluptuous vixen”—he shot a wink at Summer—“are sexy as hell in that crop top and skirt.”
Riley didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His hand was busy squeezing her ass. Claiming ownership to her by his deeds rather than mere words…and that was perfectly fine with her.
“Everybody stand down—now,” Griffin ordered as he took the stairs two at a time to get ahead of the other guys. “You’ll freak out our esteemed—and very necessary—special guest.”
Summer giggled. Because she didn’t exactly hate gathering compliments from discerning men. Men she trusted to not even come close to crossing the line. Men she knew were as devoted as could be to their girlfriends. Except for Josh. He was pretty darn devoted to just playing the field, from what she’d seen. And his excuse (albeit the truth) of getting up at four a.m. for his food truck helped him escape any threat of serious entanglement or, God forbid, sleepovers.
“I don’t mind being ogled for the right reasons. I happen to know I look pretty terrific today,” she said as she finally hit the stairs. Summer trailed her hand along the exposed brick wall as she climbed the floating staircase. The studios were a mix of historically old
(aka crumbling mortar flaking off on her fingers) and modernly hip. Which kind of represented all of D.C.
Riley ran his hand up her thigh in approval. “You look so good, it’s a shame to waste you on radio.”
“Good thing we won’t.” A stunning blonde in a wide-legged sailor pant jumpsuit with a strapless bustier called down to them from the third floor.
“Stunning” was actually too tame a word. Summer had never once, not even when she was on the pageant circuit, felt insecure around other women. Her gene pool had hit the jackpot in the looks department. Just because she didn’t want to be identified by her looks didn’t mean Summer was unaware of their significance. Or their ability to score her free drinks at a bar.
But this woman set her back on her heels. Because she was supermodel-gorgeous, with her blond hair and perfectly proportioned, Kewpie doll features…and apparently knew the guys. Riley, in particular.
Summer had no plans of her own with Riley. It was more of an evolving, day-by-day thing. More than she usually allowed herself with a man. Most definitely all that she could handle.
That did not mean she wanted to be confronted with the competition. With someone who had the looks—and the impeccable fashion sense—to lure Riley away from her with a wink of a single, smoky eye. Someone who made Summer think about the fact that casually dating Riley suddenly no longer appealed. Someone who made her realize that locking him down into a committed relationship was the way to go.
Even if the words “committed relationship” made her left eye twitch and had the stench of planning for the future all over it.
Griff paused halfway up the second flight of stairs. Crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve got a guess where you’re headed with this, Lara. And I don’t like it.”
“Color me unsurprised,” she drawled dryly. “Everybody hustle up. We’ve got a few extra things to do before you go live today.”
Riley’s hand on the small of Summer’s back started her moving forward again. “That’s our show producer. Lara keeps all the technical stuff going. And herds us like cats.”
“She’s terrific and terrifying at the same time,” Josh said over his shoulder as they rounded the curve of the second floor. It had more larger-than-life posters of some other podcast presenters. None were anywhere close to as striking, though, as the Naked Men.
“She’s beautiful.” Immediately, Summer hated herself for even mentioning it. How many times had she bristled at people shoehorning her because of her looks? But she knew it was her jealousy talking. Hoping beyond hope that Riley didn’t take the bait.
Damn it. Not that she’d ever insisted on a monogamous relationship. Not that they’d even broached the subject. Not that her orange lace panties had any reason to be in a twist.
“Tell me about it,” Josh sighed. “I took a run at Lara the moment we met. Barely rolled my tongue in enough to talk to her.”
Logan not so gently cuffed his ear. “I’m sure she appreciated the effort.”
“Hey, you weren’t here. You didn’t see. We knew she was a dead ringer for a supermodel. Just couldn’t agree on if it was Kate Upton or Brooklyn Decker. All of us were fighting over who’d hit on her first. Except for Griff, who was already head over dick for Chloe. That’s how we figured out he was serious about her.”
This was sounding worse and worse to Summer. Because if Riley had made a move on Lara, of course she’d have gone out with him. The man was annoyingly irresistible when he turned his charm on full force. Trying to come off as casual, she directed her question to Josh instead of Riley himself. “You all hit on her? You took turns? How does that work?”
“We use the ‘shotgun’ approach. Whoever calls it gets to try first.”
“God.” Logan gave a full body shudder, like he was trying to shake off Josh’s words. “Don’t tell Brooke I ever did that, okay? In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t tell anyone that story ever again.”
“It’s the truth,” Josh protested.
On the third floor, Griffin raised his hand. “The truth is that we used to do that. We also used to pee without washing our hands afterward. We used to consider beef jerky and Berger cookies a meal. We, in fact, do none of those things anymore. For we have matured into responsible, respectful men.”
Josh blew a raspberry so wet that Summer could see the spittle spray through the air like a sunburst. “Speak for yourself. Aside from the hand washing. Holy Christ, as a chef I wash my hands as many times a day as a scallop blinks.”
“Stop. Just stop,” Riley begged as he jogged to come even with Summer. “First of all, I thought Griffin tossed out the command not to freak out our VIP guest? So stop talking about our very much in the past horndog approach to women. We’ve learned from our mistakes and corrected our, ah, disrespectful ways.”
It bloomed a little warmth in her heart that Riley didn’t want her to be upset by Josh’s joking around.
Unless it was just that he wanted her calm for the podcast, and not because they were sleeping together.
Summer’s throat tightened. Oh my God. This had to stop. Did other women really walk around all the time counteracting this ridiculous jealousy?
Knox hooked his sunglasses in the neckline of his linen shirt. A shirt cut lower than any currently in Summer’s closet. An artfully rumpled shirt underneath a pale gray suit with a thin periwinkle box pattern. Oh, and with the sleeves pushed up to his elbow. Exactly as the model had worn it on the runway during Milan Fashion Week. Summer remembered seeing the photos. And appreciated once again Knox’s couture style. With his penchant for fashion, it was too bad he wasn’t a woman. He’d single-handedly double her store’s profit margin.
He cleared his throat. “I’m jumping in with the ‘secondly,’ because we’re all thinking it. Scallops don’t have eyelids.”
“That is so fucking not what I was thinking.” The side eye Logan shot him would’ve cut straight through an aluminum can faster than the knives hawked on late-night television.
“You didn’t let me finish.” Knox swung his gaze to Josh. And it switched from an eye-rolled, nonverbal Shut up to a squinty Have you lost your mind? “Aside from the fact that they can’t blink, why’d you even use scallops instead of people in that analogy?”
Nodding, Logan said, “Okay, that’s what I was thinking.”
It was what Summer had been thinking, too. When Josh first said it. But now all she could think about was scallops not having eyelids. How did they sleep if they couldn’t close their eyes?
Josh let his head fall back and sighed. “Look, a scallop can have more than a hundred eyes. Something I learned at the Culinary Institute before we were taught how to clean, cut, and cook them into melting morsels of deliciousness.”
Hand diving to his pocket, Knox pulled out his wallet, removed a crisp Franklin, and waved it in the air. “I would give you a hundred dollars if you could get through a conversation just once without bringing it around to food.”
“You’re on, rich boy.” Josh tried to snatch the cash. Knox charged up the rest of the stairs to escape him. They both came to a full and immediate stop when faced with Lara’s glare. “Anyway, they have lots of eyes. More than humans. So I figured they blink more, all added together. You know, guys, a joke’s no good if you pick it apart.”
“A joke’s no good if you don’t pack in the funny,” Riley threw back.
Griffin put a hand on Summer’s shoulder. Bent down to put his mouth near her ear. In a loud stage whisper, he said, “Lara’s gay.”
Finally. Somebody who had sense enough to know that while the easy camaraderie of the ACSs amused her, she was about ready to jump out of her skin at wondering if Riley had slept with Lara.
Not that it mattered.
Not that she had any right to be the least bit ruffled, even if he had slept with her.
Crap. Just how deep had she fallen for this guy?
Before she could fully process, or react—or thank Griff for setting her straight—Riley pulled her forward. �
��Lara, this is Summer Sheridan. Our VIP guest. Since she’s not a man, I assured her that you’d waive the standard Naked Men dress code.”
“You mean the one where you all tried to convince me you wanted to do the podcast in the buff? Or the one where I shamelessly begged you not to do it?”
“You have no appreciation of our hotness.”
“No. I genuinely don’t. But your ever-growing audience does, which is all that matters.” Lara shook Summer’s hand. “Welcome. You chose an exciting day to visit. After too many weeks of folderol and faffing about, we’re finally going to run a live video stream of the podcast.”
A muscle in Griff’s jaw twitched. “With a whole twenty-minute warning? Not cool, Lara.”
The grim tightness of his mouth didn’t seem to faze her. “Lieutenant, you’ve pushed back and dragged your feet with every official tweak we’ve made. Given what happened to you all in high school, I get your aversion to publicity. But you signed a contract. If I’d told you three weeks ago that we planned to start filming today, you would’ve come up with twelve excuses why it couldn’t happen.”
“True.” Griffin patted the belt at the waist of his mint green shorts. “But we’re not dressed to go on camera. We’re dressed to hang out with our best friends, shooting the shit.”
“Which is exactly what we want to capture.” Lara tweaked his button-down collar. “Your tidy preppiness. Knox’s over-the-top fashion. Logan’s rumpled world-traveler look. And so on. So go take your seats. You’re about to get powdered.”
“There was no mention of makeup in the contract,” Knox growled, with eyes narrowed to storm-cloud-colored slits.
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