by J. Daniels
Riley Tennyson got under my skin at that wedding and fucking stayed there.
So I pull my hand away instead of moving higher or lower or touching longer, bringing both to my face where I scrub up and then down. I grit my teeth. My groin throbs.
Fuck you. You should be used to this torture.
“Are you okay?” Riley’s sweet voice fills my ears before she’s getting handsy again with my thigh, and right now, with my dick threatening to punch through my zipper, I do not need her touching me.
“Fine,” I grate out, letting my hands fall away. “I just want to shoot. Do you mind?” I don’t mean to sound pissed off or angry with her, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it comes out.
Because for the first time since I met Riley Tennyson, I need her to back the fuck away from me.
She blinks before yanking her hand off my leg. “Sure. No problem,” she rushes out, then Riley’s moving out of my way and getting behind me again.
I pull in a deep breath and release it slowly, searching for calm, then I pick up the gun.
My next eighty-nine shots are aimed a little higher on the target, right where that motherfucker’s heart would be.
I never miss.
I never touch Riley again either, not for the rest of the afternoon at the range or during the drive home. And she never reaches out for me. We're both stiff and quiet and this isn't how it ever is with her. Awkward glances and uncomfortable silence. It sucks. And it continues after we get back to the house.
Dinner is eaten with my eyes on the TV and Riley's attention on the textbook in her lap. When she stands, having finished with her meal, she picks up my empty plate off the trunk and then asks if it's okay for her to do that, to fucking clean up after me.
That's when I realize how much of an asshole I'm being.
I'm getting shitty with her when I'm the one getting fucking sponge baths every night. I send her texts about the cold side of my bed. I play with her and tease her and insinuate with Riley every chance I get. What the fuck right do I have getting on her case because I can't handle her dishing it back, if that's even what she's doing, and I'm honestly not sure if it is. This could just be Riley being comfortable with me. Friendly. Playful, the way I always am with her. She wants us to be friends. Feeling her heartbeat . . . sure. What the fuck? Friends do that.
Yeah . . .
Asshole. World’s biggest, right here.
Huffing out a breath, I get to my feet and leave my crutches on the floor, choosing to walk on my boot instead since the therapist said I can start doing that now. My leg hurts a little but nothing compared to earlier, so I keep going. I round the couch, hobbling down the hallway in the direction Riley went after she cleaned up dinner.
The dinner she made, that I ate, enjoyed, and didn't say shit to her about.
Dick.
“Darlin', where you at?” I call out, reaching the bathroom and peering inside it. The light is still on and one of the cabinet doors is open. She was in here. But she’s not anymore. I keep moving down the hallway, thumping my boot on the floor, and when I’m almost at the bedroom she’s staying in, I hear Riley's lowered voice and it stops me.
“I’m glad you’re sorry. You should be sorry. But that doesn’t change what you did, Richard, and it doesn’t make me forgive you either. I can’t. I just . . . I can’t forgive you.”
Richard. My teeth clench.
Motherfucker.
I lean my shoulder against the wall just outside her room, crossing my arms over my chest and continuing to listen. That son of a bitch must’ve called her from jail, and now he’s getting Riley upset. I can hear it in her voice.
“You didn’t tell me things were getting so bad you were turning to drugs. You did cocaine. You should’ve talked to me. God, I was practically begging you to talk to me . . . no. No! Are you serious? That’s no excuse!”
When Riley’s voice cracks with a sob, I move, filling the doorway just as she’s standing from the bed. She keeps her back to me, and I stare at my name, half hidden by her hair.
Jesus. I’m an asshole to her and she still puts on that fucking hoodie.
It's hers now. She's claimed it. And seeing Riley in something that used to be mine does weird shit to me. Having my name on her . . . I like it.
I like it way too fucking much.
“Don’t call me again,” she hisses into the phone. “If you do, I won’t accept it. I promise you, I won’t.” Riley ends the call, lowers her hands to her sides and drops her head. Her breathing is loud and labored.
I want to break every bone in that motherfucker’s body.
“Riley.” I take a step into the room but halt when she turns around.
She looks surprised that I’m in here and that I’m speaking to her after the bullshit I put her through today, but she covers it quickly, closing her eyes and then wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve. When she looks at me again, there’s nothing there. No shock. No hurt. Nothing. And knowing she's hiding how she feels from me is worse than actually seeing it. It makes my fucking chest ache.
“Babe, look I’m—”
“I’m really tired. I’m going to go to bed now,” Riley interrupts, tucking her phone into her front pocket, pushing her hair behind her ears and then nervously pulling the sleeves over her hands to hide them. She lets her eyes fall to a spot on the floor between us.
She’s waiting for me to leave.
I grip the back of my neck, squeezing hard.
I don’t buy Riley being tired. That prick upset her after I made shit uncomfortable, and now she’s wanting space.
Space from me.
I’ll leave. Fuck. I’ll do whatever she wants, but I’m not going anywhere until I know Riley’s not going to be in here crying alone.
“You all right?” I ask her, dropping my hand.
She lifts her eyes to me. “I’m just tired,” she says again, shoulder jerking and mouth trying to smile.
I still don’t believe her. And that smile isn’t hers. I know Riley’s smile.
I pull in a deep breath, looking at her, watching her eyes cut away again.
Yeah. She's definitely wanting space. And I’ll give it to her, whatever she wants, but I’m getting this out first.
“If you need to talk or if you just want someone to listen, you know where I am,” I say, gaining her eyes again and watching them widen the slightest bit. “If you feel like crying, I don’t want you staying in here alone, darlin’. I want you with me. Either come to my room or I’ll come to you. I don’t care what time it is. Okay?”
This isn't negotiable, and I think she hears that in my voice.
Riley hesitates for a breath, staring at me while she tugs on her sleeves. “Okay,” she says, voice quiet.
“Good.” I drop my head with a nod. “And, babe?”
“Yes?”
“I fucked up today. Tomorrow won’t be like that.”
I watch Riley stop fidgeting, blink, and part her lips before I’m turning away from her and heading out of the room.
My legs feel heavy. I don’t want to leave her.
“CJ?”
I stop just outside my bedroom door and look back over my shoulder. Riley is standing out in the hallway now too.
“Yeah?” I ask.
She gives me a soft smile, and the sweetest fucking “Goodnight,” she’s ever given me.
My chest gets tight. I stand there, watching her. Wanting her. Jesus, I want her. But she wants space. If she needs you, she’ll say it, I remind myself. And she doesn’t. Riley doesn’t ask me to stay with her. So I don’t linger when I want to. I give her what she needs.
“Goodnight, darlin’.”
Getting that from me, Riley keeps her smile, steps back into her bedroom, and closes the door.
I RUSH HOME after clinical and park in the spot I’ve claimed as my own, beside CJ's old, white pick-up truck in the driveway.
I’m meeting up with Mia, Tessa, and Beth tonight for girl’s night. Beth invited me.
And I really want to shower and change before I head over to McGill’s. I smell like a combination of hospital antiseptic and latex.
Not a good smell on any night of the week, but especially not a good one on a girl's night. I'd prefer to smell nice for this. I'm sure the rest of them will.
My left leg bounces against the seat after I shift the car out of drive. I’ve never hung around the group of them together before. Not in a setting like this. And on top of being excited that I’m being included—getting that text from Beth this morning while I was on my way to the hospital—I’m also slightly nervous. I’m comfortable around Beth. And Mia is really sweet. But Tessa? If I’m being honest, she frightens me a little.
Yes, I've known her the longest. She used to hang around my house all the time when she and Reed were in high school together. I’d consider us friendly. But what if Tessa doesn’t want her best friend’s little sister horning in on her girl’s night? What if she asks me to leave?
I press my hand to my thigh and force my leg to quit bouncing. I can't think about this right now. I'm short on time as it is. I need to focus on getting ready. So I push those worrying thoughts aside and turn the car off, grab my book bag off the passenger seat, hustle out, and hurry up the driveway.
I can hear music playing when I step up onto the porch. A steady beat with a heavy bass. Twisting the doorknob, I push the door open and step inside the house.
The living room and kitchen are empty, but the TV is on. CJ is typically lounging on the couch when I get home, either watching something or getting creative in his boredom. Just the other day, he set up glasses all along the living room floor and flipped quarters into them. And I also caught him building a castle out of a deck of cards on the trunk he uses as a coffee table. It even had a drawbridge and a moat. I was impressed.
This is CJ’s go-to spot. But he’s not here.
What could he be doing?
I pad across the room and down the hallway, heading toward the music and the shower I need to be taking. CJ’s bedroom door is open, and curiosity has me stopping at it to take a look inside.
Just a peek, I think. I'll say hi, then I’ll hurry up and hop in the shower. A peek and a hi. That's it.
I stop at the doorway. My eyes widen as the hand around my book bag strap tightens into a fist.
Holy . . .
No way is this going to be a peek.
CJ is shirtless and facing the far wall, his sculpted back bulging as he hangs from a bar mounted to the ceiling. Knees bent. Arms extended. Body shiny with sweat. Jay Z raps through the speakers come and get me, and the man with more muscles than anyone else on the planet—I’m sure of it—proceeds to knock out a never ending round of pull ups as if they are nothing.
My mouth falls open. I feel my pulse spike as I stand there, staring in awe at his power.
CJ's arms and shoulders and back flex and ripple and swell with tension, but he never slows. Rep after rep. Boom. Boom. Boom. One after the other. This is easy to him. It’s nothing. And it’s killing me. My God.
I may actually drool a little as I stand here. I can't help it though. This is better than porn.
Come and get me.
The song keeps playing. Goosebumps break out all over my body. I listen to the lyrics and to CJ’s skin tingling grunts, which reminds me of the sounds he makes when he’s having sex. And those memories paired with the visual I’m getting, plus Jay Z’s goading permission, are a little too much to take right now. I know if CJ sees me or hears me getting ready in the next room, I’ll have to face him, and honestly, I don’t think I can handle that.
What if I touch him? What if I can’t resist anymore and run my hands over his shiny skin? I’ll curl my fingers around his muscles. I know I will, and CJ doesn’t want me to do that. He said he fucked up yesterday—after touching me more than he has since we agreed to be friends. I can still feel his hands on my hips and his strong pressure above my heartbeat. But he got weird and quiet on me afterward. He got different. He didn’t like it. Why else would he have acted the way he did?
I don’t want that to happen again. But I won’t be able to not touch him. Not today. Not anymore.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
CJ keeps going, rep after rep, and I can feel myself breathing heavier. I’ve never seen a man workout like this before. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a man before period. CJ Tully might be my first.
You won’t be able to fight this, desire whispers in my ear. I bite my lip.
Decision made—I need to sacrifice my appearance tonight.
After getting one last lingering look, I step back and move swiftly down the hallway, leaving the house as quickly as I arrived.
McGill’s is crowded when I get there, which isn’t surprising. It’s Friday night. And as I scan the room for the faces I’m expecting to see, a sharp, whistling sound draws my attention through the crowd.
I spot the girls at a table near the bar. Beth and Mia are waving and smiling at me, all warm and welcoming, while Tessa side-eyes some girl twerking close by. I want to laugh because that’s Tessa for you. She’s not a girl’s girl at all, but I’m also mildly terrified she might side-eye me next.
Please don’t ask me to leave. I really want to be here.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late,” I say, stopping behind the vacant chair between Beth and Mia.
Both of them are dressed in cute summer dresses, have their hair pulled up in messy buns and are wearing light makeup—bronzer, lip gloss, maybe some highlighter. They look like they’re glowing. Tessa is wearing a white tank top with the word No written in bold, black letters across her chest. Her red hair is down and straightened, and her eyes are lined heavy. All three of them look girl’s-night ready.
I’m wearing mascara. That’s it.
I really need to start carrying makeup in my book bag.
“You’re not late. We all just got here,” Beth informs me, head tilting in curiosity when she looks at my top. “I thought you were going home to change after clinical?”
I was, but CJ was shirtless and making sex noises.
I clear my throat. “Um, yeah, I got held up at the hospital, so I figured I would just come straight here,” I lie, shrugging. “Sorry.”
“If I looked that cute in scrubs, I’d wear them all the time,” Mia shares, smiling up at me.
I feel my cheeks warm. Gosh, Mia really is the sweetest. “Thank y—”
“Yo, Riley Girl.”
My head lifts and my eyes connect with Tessa’s across the table.
Oh, God. Here it comes.
I brace myself and prepare to back away.
Tessa smirks after getting my attention. She leans forward in her chair and picks a chip from the nacho plate in the center of the table, snapping into it. “Have a seat. We have loads to talk about.” Her voice floats with meaning.
My brow furrows. We do? “Are you not going to ask me to leave?” I question.
She blinks, looking at me like I suddenly sprouted two additional heads. “What?”
“Nothing,” I rush out. I quickly claim my seat at the table and pick up the glass of water that’s in front me, taking two gulps before setting it down.
“Ignore her, Riley,” Mia says. “She’s just teasing you.”
“Um, hello.” Tessa points her chip at me, but keeps her focus on Mia. “Her boyfriend is in the slammer and according to Luke, he’ll be in there for a while. And I’d like to know how she feels about that.” She looks at me then, asking, “So, what gives? You trying to bust him out?”
“What?” My back goes straight. “No! No way. Richard can rot there. I don’t want him getting out. He hurt CJ.”
Tessa’s brows lift in interest. Beth clears her throat. I think I hear Mia mention something about really loving the cheese that’s on the nachos, but my attention remains on Tessa.
She leans back in her chair, the corner of her mouth teasing with a smile as she continues biting into her chip.
I relax into my seat, feelin
g my stomach clench. Crap. Crap! I sound way too invested in CJ’s wellbeing. And I shouldn’t. Not in front of Tessa, anyway. She doesn’t know about our weekend of sex or the fact that CJ and I are roommates now. And she’s friends with him. Not me. I’m not supposed to be anything with him.
What am I doing? Keep a lid on it, Riley!
“Um, I just hate that Richard hurt one of your friends. That’s all,” I quickly add, trying to cover my slip-up. “And I told you. He's not my boyfriend anymore. I broke up with him.”
“Mm.” Tessa cocks her head to the side after hearing me. She’s finished with her chip and full-on smiling now, meaning she knows something is up. And this is Tessa. She’ll want to discuss details and positions and size and circumference. I just know she will. No question is off limits to her.
My palms begin to sweat. I rub them on my scrub pants and contemplate making a mad dash for my car.
Screw girl’s night. Who needs it?
“You okay?” Tessa asks, following my nervousness.
“Yeah, I just . . . I’m super hungry.” I lurch forward and grab a chip loaded with ground beef, cheese, black beans, sour cream, and salsa, and shove the entire thing into my mouth.
Tessa's brows lift. “You look ready to vomit because you’re super hungry?” she asks.
I shrug and let my eyes fall away as I struggle to chew. Do I look ready to vomit? I mean, I don’t feel sick, but okay, if Tessa asks me how CJ’s dick rides, I just might throw up a little.
She’s Reed’s best friend. She’ll definitely tell him what I did.
“Riley, Riley, Riley.”
The sound of my name being taunted lifts my gaze. I look at Tessa, watching the shake of her head and that all-knowing smile twist into something that makes me want to squirm in my seat, but she cuts me a break and shifts her attention to Beth. “So, what’s up with you?” she asks, leaning forward and dropping her elbows on the table. “Your text to all of us made it seem like you had big news to share. Spill it, Tennyson. We’re all here now.”
Beth smiles big at Tessa, and I know it’s in reaction to hearing her new last name. She’s so happy being Reed’s wife. “It did?” she questions, head cocked and lips pressing together.
