Page 96 of Buckin' Around

My gut sinks.

Did I read this whole thing wrong?

Women have always been an easy concept for me to grasp. Show them a good time, make sure they’re safe, and send them off after a bunch of orgasms. Never text or call. Nobody wants that.

But Riley?

She’s complex. Intricate, like an elegant puzzle designed for only me to solve. Every dark angle, every nuanced word, every sultry look that she sends my way has me desperate to know what it means and looking for more.

She has me. Hook, line, and sinker.

Only never before today has this tension between us felt so one-sided.

Riley rises and walks inside. I stare out into the green field of tall, dancing summer grass. The crickets are starting to make a racket, letting us know the day is winding down.

I push to my feet and wander inside.

We need to get this crib done before our tiniest assistant wakes up.

Riley isn’t in the living room or kitchen, so I pad to Ivy’s room.

The crib panels sit in a pile, the hardware on the floor by them. But no Riley.

I track to my bedroom and push the door open quietly. Ives is out like a light, snoring her tiny sounds as always. The room is dim with the curtains drawn.

Something moves in the corner in the shadows.

As my eyes adjust, Riley’s elegant curves register. She’s down to her bra and panties, reaching for a box on the top of the old wardrobe. And missing it with every little hop and swipe she takes trying to grab it.

I move on silent feet until I’m behind her.

“Need a hand?” I whisper, reaching up over her and grabbing the box down with one hand.

Riley freezes, my chest to her back. I lower the box in front of her, my arm penning her against my body.

My bad arm hangs at my side, useless.

“Tell me I’m an asshole, Riles. Tell me this isn’t what you want,” I breathe.

Her hands slide around the box. With every rise and fall of her shoulders, her body rubs against mine. I’m hard instantly.

Fuck me sideways, this woman drives me crazy with the slightest thing.

“Thank you,” she whispers, not turning around. Not answering my question.

I step back.

She shivers, despite the summer heat and the closed-off room. Her long hair is loose, tips dusting over the small of her back.

Blood bounds through my veins, need coursing like an out-of-control bull straight out of hell’s gate. What I wouldn’t give to wrap that gorgeous dark hair around my fist and...

Ives snuffles, rolling over in my bed.

Right, the crib.

I pad from the room and head for Ivy’s. I’m sorting out the panels when Riley appears at the end of the one I’m holding.

“It’ll be easier with two,” she says softly.