She wasn’t looking at me. Why wasn’t she looking at me. “Riley?”
But she was already striding back toward the house, shoulders stiff, chin high, and even with my total lack of experience with people, I didn’t miss she was angry. Maybe even hurt.
Her round bottom twitched in her jeans as she walked up the steps and into the house, and I cursed loudly. I hadn’t thought this through, any of it. Only about myself. My comfort. My feelings. I’d wanted someone to look after me, keep me company. Someone to share my nights with, to slake this burning lust inside me that…hell, that had started to scare me.
I hadn’t thought about her.
Never about how she’d feel.
I was a selfish bastard.
Riley had feelings and emotions. I’d come all over her hand three nights ago, then avoided her. And when I’d finally seen her again properly, to talk to her, I’d demanded she cook me dinner.
If my cousins Beau and Hank were here, they’d be shaking their heads at me for acting like an idiot.
I started back toward the house, not knowing what to do or say. I wasn’t used to talking, let alone soothing a woman’s hurt feelings. She had a good reason to be angry at me, and I got the feeling I’d make her angry again over the next few months, since I was a goddamn clueless idiot.
If she stayed that long.
The ache in my chest increased.
I walked into the kitchen. Riley was chopping carrots. Loudly.
“Riley?”
“I’ll be as quick as I can, Cash. And sorry, no chocolate cake tonight.”
Yep, she was angry. No, furious. I frowned. “Cake?”
“It is your favorite, right? It was remiss of me not to have made you one by now. Please accept my apologies.”
I frowned harder. When had I mentioned chocolate cake being my favorite?
I shook away that thought. She sounded different. Her voice was sharper. And I may be clueless and miss a lot, but I knew what sarcasm was. How could I not with Beau as a cousin? I’d screwed up. Badly. I’d been around my cousins and their wives enough to know when a woman was upset.
I remembered the sounds she made when I used my finger on her clit, when she came for me. She’d been happy then. She’d clung to me, snuggled closer. She’d liked that, too, snuggling. She’d stayed pressed up to me like that all night, had done it every night since, even if she was asleep. She’d smiled at me as well.
Would that make her happy again now? My gaze dropped to her round bottom, the way the denim hugged tight, the way the seam skated between her rounded cheeks, down farther, curving around between her thighs, along her pussy, and I licked my lips.
Would she like it if I used my mouth on her there? I’d seen it in movies, read about it in books. My mouth started to water. Or would she be disgusted?
She opened one of the cupboards under the sink, bending over and pulling out a pot.
“I know what I want…for dinner.” My face exploded with heat. Had I actually said that out loud?
She turned to me, eyes flashing, a look on her face my mom had aimed at my dad many times when he’d said something stupid…but then Riley stilled as her gaze moved over my face, when she looked into my eyes.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asked, and her voice had gone husky.
My gaze dropped to the juncture of her thighs before I could stop myself, and I didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath.
Idiot.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” I bit out.
She put her knife down and turned to face me properly. “What are you sorry for?”
I shook my head, trying to find the right words. “This isn’t a deal, Riley.”
She took a step closer. “No, it’s not. Are you really mad because I lost track of time and didn’t make dinner?”
I shook my head. “With myself.”
“For avoiding me for the last three days?”
I planted my hands on my hips to stop from reaching for her. “Yep.”
“And you want to apologize?”
“Yep,” I choked out. Why did I find this so damn hard?
“And how did you want to do that?” she said, her face pink, her beautiful eyes bright.
My gaze dipped again before I could stop it, struggling for control. “I-I’ll make dinner,” I said, trying to cover for what I’d almost given away. The dirty things I wanted to do to my perfect, new wife.
She tilted her head to the side. “No, I don’t think that’s what you had in mind.”
I swallowed audibly.
“Tell me, Cash, tell me what it is you really want?”
I shook my head, feeling cornered. Embarrassed. Ashamed.
“Have you been thinking about what we did my first night here?” she asked, her lovely round breasts shaking slightly with her quickened breaths.
I hadn’t seen them bare yet. I hadn’t touched them. An image of them swaying as I pounded into her fired through my head, and it was my turn to suck in a breath.
“Or something else?” she carried on. “Are you hungry for me, Cash? Is that what you meant?”
I growled.
Like an animal.
Her eyes widened, lips parting. Her tongue swiped over her upper lip. “Do you want to use your mouth on me, Cash?”
I shuddered fiercely enough there was no way Riley missed it. “I’m sorry,” I said again, embarrassed that I didn’t know what to do. What the hell to say.
“Is that it? Is that what you want? You want to make me come with your mouth?” she asked again, her voice soft, sweet, quietly demanding an answer from me.
I started to shake my head.
“Tell me.” There was a desperation in her voice that made me shake harder.
I was so hard now I hurt. I hurt so bad. I shouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t tell her what I was thinking, but right then I couldn’t stop myself because Riley didn’t look horrified. No, she looked—excited.
“I…I…” I cleared my tight throat. “I want to tear off those fuck-me jeans, lay you on the dinner table, and feast on your…” I swallowed audibly. “Your…pussy.”
I stood there, breathing roughly, terrified she’d be disgusted by what I’d said yet desperate for her to want that, too. For her to want my mouth on her.
Her delicate nostrils flared, and she took another step toward me. “I’m glad you told me, Cash. Now come and get your reward.”
My control crumpled.
With a vicious growl, I closed the distance between us, snatched her up into my arms, and strode the four steps to the table. I laid her back in the next breath, my hands tearing open her jeans, then yanking them and her panties down her legs.
No more panties. Riley should never wear panties. She should always be bare.
I sat heavily in the chair at the head of the table, gripped her ankles, dragged her toward me, then flung her legs over my shoulders. She laughed, and it sounded like lots of tiny bells, high and joyful.
I wanted to look up, to see that kind of joy on her beautiful face, but I couldn’t look away from my prize. My reward. She was so pretty, pink and wet. She looked soft, was so incredibly soft there. I couldn’t hold back another moment, and I buried my face where I wanted to be so badly I was certain I’d die if I didn’t taste her.