Page 9 of Solitary Man

I swallowed thickly.

“Cash?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now, Riley,” I said like a damned fool.

She nodded, her gaze dropping to my mouth, then lifting back to my eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.

That whisper lifted the hair on the back of my neck and made my gut ache on a whole new level. I shuffled forward and raised my hand to cup the side of her face. Her golden blond hair was soft and wavy, tickling the back of my hand.

My heart raced as I dipped my head and leaned in closer. Her knees pressed into my stomach, and my breath huffed from my nose as my cheek touched hers. Her hands settled on my shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscle, and I moaned.

I loved the way she gripped me, holding tight like she had in the plane, using me to ground herself. She could use me in any way she needed. I was hers.

Amazingly, this beautiful woman wanted to kiss me—to be mine—and I’d give her everything she asked for.

I’d been alone—so lonely—for so damn long.

“Please,” she said, her lips not quite touching mine yet.

My woman shouldn’t have to beg for anything from me. Not one thing. So I turned my head the little bit needed and pressed my lips to hers almost as soon as the plea left her precious lips.

At that first gentle contact, I groaned. How could the simple act of touching lips be this good? Zaps of pleasure fired from that point of contact right to my chest, then raced through my gut and down to my groin.

Her fingers dug deeper, and I groaned again, my mouth, my body seeming to know what to do all on its own. My lips moved against hers, then parted, my tongue flicking into her mouth. Her sweet little tongue flicked out in return, tasting, testing.

She whimpered, and I—snapped.

My arms banded around her, and I lifted her off the counter, one arm under her round bottom, the other buried in her wild, blond hair at the back of her head. I tilted my head, my only thought to go deeper, to get more Riley. My tongue plunged into her mouth again, and she gave it back to me, her arms coming around my neck, holding tight.

My hand curled around her bottom—so much soft flesh—and my fingers squeezed.

She wriggled against me. “Cash,” she whispered against my mouth.

Her scent filled my head, the softness of her lips, her taste, and that warmth—that perfect, intense warmth of her skin—soaked into me, deep, letting me know she was real, she was here with me, that I wasn’t alone anymore. All of it kicked me low in the stomach.

Oh Christ.

I was going to come if I didn’t stop this now.

I couldn’t humiliate myself in front of my sweet, perfect, beautiful wife just from kissing and holding her.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from gripping her luscious bottom tighter and pressing her hips into mine, grinding against her, tempting fate. My cock started to pulse, and my balls drew up.

No. Not like this.

I tore my mouth from hers and sat her back on the counter, taking a quick step back. I was breathing hard, my fists clenched tight. I was in pain, so much pain, so desperate to pull her back into my arms, to rub against her some more, to reach down right in front of her and squeeze myself through my jeans until I came anyway, like the pathetic virgin I was.

“I-I’m sorry,” I said so roughly she flinched. I took another step back, wanting to flee but knowing that was probably the worst thing I could do.

“Don’t go,” she said, like she could read my mind. “Please don’t go.”

3

Riley

Cash backed away while I sat there trembling, desperate for him to touch me again. “Cash?”

He took another step back. “I have to…” He turned and rushed out of the kitchen.