Page 17 of Solitary Man

“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.