Page 108 of Buckin' Around

The yawn that pulls at my face is perfectly timed but has absolutely no impact on the feisty woman who’s naked, wet, and now looking like there’s a war going on in her head.

Good, Riles, mull this shit over.God knows I’ve been doing just that for as long as we’ve known each other.

“I see how it is,” she finally says. “Give me the best orgasm of my life, then make me desperate for more by showing off all this.” She releases her grip on her hair and waves a hand up and down my body. Which is relaxing more with every second of hot water and naked Riley in my orbit.

Fuck, see how easy this could be, Riles?

She sees it, alright.

“Taking a shower here, O’Malley. Keep your greedy eyes to yourself.”

I turn my back to her for good measure.

The half gasp from her that rattles to a halt sees a smile kick up my lips.

Hook, line, and sinker, baby.

I pluck the bar of soap from the caddy and start washing my arms. Turning a little to the side, I run the soap over my chest and then down my washboard abs.

I’m hard. Of course I am. Is there any other option in this woman’s presence?

Washing everything I can, as slow as I can, I make a point to not let my gaze track to her, despite being desperate to see her face.

When I lose the soap bar and squirt shampoo into my hair, she’s leaning against the tile.

My glance slips up and I find her wide-eyed, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth.

Checkmate, O’Malley.

The second our gazes meet, her cheeks flush and her back leaves the tile.

“Goddamn eejit,” she mutters, shoving the shower door open. She disappears into the steam before I have time to respond. But maybe this is the best course of action. Pleading and trying to talk her into what we both know is already bursting at the seams to be let out hasn’t worked. The tension that hums between us has a life of its own.

Only, Riley is intent on keeping it in captivity.

Huh, just you wait, Riles.

A man doesn’t end up with the label Cowboy Ken for no reason.

And this ain’t my first rodeo, darlin’.

Chapter 26

Riley

Ismash my fist into the lumpiest pillow to ever grace a sofa and pull the sheet over my bare legs. The tank top and panties that I put on still feel too hot with no fan on in the living room.

The ceiling fan squeaks like a mouse in a trap, so I refuse to turn it on. The sheet feels like a safety net, but after a slim moment, I toss it aside, too. The fan in Spencer’s room works perfectly, as does his small box air conditioner. The one in Ivy’s room does, too.

I swipe at the sweat forming on my brow and sigh. It could be worse—I could be broke and have to pull out of school. I could still be obliged to attend Lockwood family dinners with Stace.

Somehow, the peace and tranquility that comes with a healthy bank account and country air trumps the lot.

The crickets won’t let up outside about the balmy temperature, and I swear that makes the room even hotter.

I flip the stupid lumpy pillow over to the cooler side and wriggle toward the edge of the sofa. The last thing I want is the warmth of the sofa’s back on my, well, back.

I lose a long, annoyed groan, slamming my fists into the pillow for good measure. How is itthishot?