Erin McCarthy - Sweet

But he just shrugged. “Because it’s big and right in front of me. I wanted to see if they’ll bounce.”

That’s what I got for asking. The truth, which wasn’t that pretty. “But if she realizes what you’re doing, you’re going to hurt her feelings. No one likes to be made fun of, and you’re basically making fun of her.”

Easton didn’t answer me. He just threw the Cheetos back in the plastic store bag and went back to the pool, jumping in cannonball style.

“Well, that went well.” I felt bad. “I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.” Who did I think I was, telling Riley how to handle Easton? Telling Easton how to behave? It wasn’t like I was some model daughter. Clearly. Just ask my parents.

“Don’t sweat it.”

“I don’t want him to hate me.” He was an odd little kid, but I was getting fond of him, and I wanted him to like me.

“He doesn’t hate you. And you’re right, he probably does need better manners, but I’ve been more focused on keeping him. I hate to say it, but it’s better for him since Mom died. Less swearing, less drama, no drugs, no violence. I figure the other stuff will catch up later.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a horrible, pretentious, elitist bitch. Thinking I can come in and clean your house and help you with Easton.” My chest felt tight. “Next time just tell me to shut up.”

“Jess, stop being so goddamn sensitive. I know you’re only trying to help. I appreciate that. And I don’t find you elitist. Maybe a little inexperienced when it comes to the, you know, real world, but if you were elitist, you wouldn’t be with me, and you wouldn’t be living in my house, or being seen riding around in my piece-of-shit Impala. Or at the public pool.”

Maybe he was right. Just because I had grown up in a bubble didn’t make me pretentious. Just inexperienced. It was my mother who likes designer labels, not me. That had never been a priority to me. “I don’t mean to be sensitive. I’ve never thought of myself that way.”

“Well, no one wakes up and says ‘I’m going to be sensitive today.’ It’s probably because you’re tired. I always get pissed off when I’m hungover. Every little thing irritates me.”

“I don’t remember you acting that way at all. You pulled up carpeting hungover and never complained.”

“Okay, you’re right. I am awesome.”

I laughed. He always managed to make me feel better.

He tipped my head backward and I almost went cross-eyed looking up at his super cute face. “You’re more awesome-er,” he said.

While I didn’t believe it, I believed that he believed it.

And that was good enough for me.

When he kissed me, I realized that falling in love with Riley was just like having my head tilted backward—blood rushing, dizzy, hot and desperate, the world spinning.

In bed that night, our bodies close and warm, Riley’s hand firmly on my hip, pulling me tighter in to him, I tried to remember his analogy. Food. This was like food. Like me eating a slice of loaded pizza—pick one piece off at a time and savor it, let all the flavors work their way around my mouth. It wasn’t about efficiency or eating to be finished.

So wearing sleep shorts and a cami but no bra, Riley shirtless in his boxer briefs, I tried to appreciate the now and not the later. We weren’t going to have sex, not yet, not tonight. That was understood between both of us. So I relaxed, letting the tension I usually felt as I raced toward penetration fade away.

“I love your mouth,” he murmured. “Your lips are perfect.” His hand was on my chin and we were lying sideways, looking into each other’s eyes.

The waterbed had the smallest of a rock to it, allowing us to move together, his fingers drawing my leg over his hip. It was still creepy to me that we slept on a giant fluid-filled sac, but in moments like this, I could appreciate the motion of the ocean. I sighed, enjoying the ease with which we fit together, lips teasing and melding, my fingers splaying over his hard chest.

“I love your body,” I told him sincerely. “You’re so nice and hard everywhere.” I brushed over his nipple and enjoyed the sharp intake of breath he gave. Ah, the power. “I just wish I wasn’t groping Satan right now.”

“Think of it more like there’s a little devil inside all of us.”

“I wish there was a little devil inside of me,” I told him, teasing my fingertips lower to the waistband of his boxers.

He gave a soft laugh, nuzzling into my neck. “That wouldn’t be little then.”

“Of course not.” But truthfully, I didn’t actually mind that we weren’t going there. This was intimate, close, allowing us the time to tease and talk, and I was learning that I could be more aware of my body and my arousal than I had ever realized.

As Riley kissed me and rocked me on to him, I gave soft moans and realized that I trusted him. That’s what was different. I trusted his words, his feelings, his touch. That was actually a bigger turn-on than any porn star move guys had pulled with me. It wasn’t kinky, bold, or worthy of a scandalous bucket list, but it was more real than anything else I’d ever experienced.

And an hour later I discovered that I could come to orgasm just from kissing, clothes on, with nothing but whispered words of encouragement and a complete understanding of every inch of my body.

“Oh, God,” I breathed into his mouth, blinking in shock and wonder. “Riley . . .”

“Mm,” was his response. His tongue slid across my bottom lip as we cuddled. “Night, Pita.”

He sent me to sleep like that every night, though each time our fingers moved further into new territories, brushing over every inch we could with clothes still intact, and his lips started to stray down my shirt. By night four I was rocking onto him in nothing but my panties, my breasts pressing into his chest, my body alive and zinging, my heart full of a feeling I had never experienced before.

The first time his tongue touched my nipple, the first slide of a finger down into my panties, I felt like I had discovered something entirely new, that the simplest of touches could be the most electric, the most satisfying, when desire was so heightened.

I stroked him with fingers that trembled from my own hot need, goose bumps on my skin in the darkness of the narrow room, wanting to give him in return what he was giving to me. When I started to peel down his boxers, he didn’t object. It was the first time I’d seen him bare to me, his erection thick and throbbing beneath my touch. It was too dark to really see what he looked like, but I was learning his body by exploring every line, every muscle, every hair, and I did the same now, taking my time, from top to bottom, feeling, stroking, learning.

“Does it get your stamp of approval?” he asked.

Even though he said it in a teasing voice, I knew that it was an important question. Guys compared. They needed to know that they measured up, literally and figuratively.

“It’s perfect,” I told him honestly. I kissed the tip of his penis and then retreated, having learned how to do that from him. “You’re perfect.” I covered his mouth with my own and tried to show him with my lips how amazing I thought he was and how I had never been happier in my entire life than I was with him.

He groaned, gripping my hips hard, bringing my body into grinding contact with his dick. “Jess?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be okay with it if I fell in love with you?”

My heart squeezed and I paused, my mouth a hairbreadth from his, as I took in his words, as if I could breathe them into my mouth, my heart, my soul.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’d be very okay with it.”

It must have been the right answer, because without warning he flipped me onto my back and kissed down the front of me until suddenly he was kissing between my thighs and I was burying my head into the pillow as I cried out.

I wasn’t even naked, his mouth working me through cotton, yet I was more open to him than to any other guy I’d been with.

And I knew without any doubt that he was the guy.

Friday was my day off and I was having dinner on Riley’s lap. We were in the kitchen sharing a grilled cheese sandwich I had made, along with a pickle that I couldn’t resist doing suggestive things to.

“Seriously?” Tyler asked, eating a bowl of cereal. “You guys are making me throw me up in my mouth.”

“It’s payback, asshole,” Riley told him, shifting me on his legs so he could see his brother. “For a year I’ve been forced to watch you and Rory hang all over each other.”

“Six months,” I corrected him, kissing his temple. He was adorable when he was wrong. He was adorable when he was right. And I was as bad as every girl who’d come before me and fallen head over ass in love.

“Six months,” he repeated. “Either way, Tyler can suck it up.”

Tyler couldn’t really argue with that. But he did roll his eyes and say, “I’ll give you five bucks, Jess, if you sit in your own chair.”

Hell, yeah. “Deal.” I jumped off Riley’s lap and held my hand out.

“Fuck.” Tyler grumbled, but pulled out his wallet and gave me a five.

Riley laughed. “Dude, you should know better. This is my girlfriend, not yours. Rory isn’t about the angle, but Jess should count cards in Vegas. She’s a play-uh.”

“Thanks, baby,” I said, because he made it sound like a compliment. I dropped down into my own chair and tore off a piece of the sandwich and popped it in my mouth. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

“Movies?”

“Nothing scary.”

“Uh, hell, no, nothing scary. I won’t make that mistake twice. Having you crawl up my asshole has never been a particular fantasy of mine.”