Page 50 of Hating On Riot

Riot pointedly looks at me.

I come to my own defense. “I only talked a lot because you were so quiet, and I had to be pushy, or else you would’ve wasted away doing nothing but twiddling your fat thumbs. With me, you got out of the house, away from the practice field, and you lived.”

“You have a point, and I’m grateful.” He takes my hand in his and presses a kiss to my palm. Heat shoots from my palm to my chest, warming it. “Thank you for showing me a world beyond rugby and the bedroom I shared with Grayson.”

“You’re welcome.” He doesn’t let go of my hand.

I stare.

His hand is large against my small one. Roughened skin against my tender flesh. He strokes his thumb over mine in this slow, sensual rhythm that has every nerve in my body coming alive.

I should remove my hand from his. Nothing good will come from him touching me at this hour, when I’m fully awake and able to do things. Naughty things.

The guys in the house are asleep or doing other quiet things in their own rooms. Riot and I could be quiet too. I wouldn’t want the other guys to hear any noise from his room and decide to join in on the fun they think he’s having with me.

They know something’s going on with us, but they think I’m asleep in the spare room. I’m not a rule breaker. I’m prim and proper. I stick to a schedule. That’s been the routine since I moved in six days ago.

Has it only been six days? It feels like I’ve lived in this house since freshman year and have known the guys since the start of college.

“Arie?” A thick finger glides over one brow, then the other.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“Let’s talk about Coop and Hope later, like tomorrow later.” His voice drops to a lazy drawl, full of need.

“We can test our suspicion,” I blurt out. I know where this conversation is heading if we stop talking. Under the covers. Or on the covers, with his body on top of mine. Or I’m the one on top.

Our tongues would touch and taste in an exploring kiss before the slow tempo isn’t enough, and we would kiss hungrily until we’re a tangled mess of tongues, arms, and legs.

Clothes would come off and fly everywhere. Our breathing would be labored. Our heartbeats would pound in our ears like rapid drumbeats.

Hot from my hairline to my toes, I keep talking when I should’ve gone along with Riot’s suggestion. “You wrangle Hope to a designated spot. I kiss Cooper full on the mouth, tongue included. You watch how she reacts and report back to us.”

I’m out of breath from stringing the sentences together. The words sound wrong even to my ears. That’s why I said them so fast.

The silence that follows suffocates the room, robbing it of air. Then he moves so fast he’s a blur. He pulls me flat onto my back by my ankles and is on top of me before I can take a full breath.

“You kiss him, and we are through. Fuck the agreement.” His face darkens. “I don’t tolerate cheaters and liars. My brothers never did, and I won’t be the first to take back a girl who wronged me.” His eyes narrow to slits. His mouth tightens into a thin line.

I’m absorbing his words. They come from a distance. I’m still reeling from how fast he moved himself and me. The possession on his face and the darkening of his green eyes, from grass green to forest green, rob me of breath.

Grass conjures images of carefree days spent lying on a blanket in the shade beneath a tree, as a cool breeze coasts over our faces. But the forest? Darkness. The scent of wet dirt and leaves. Wild.

I tremble, but I’m not sure whether it’s from fear or from heady desire. His jealousy is like a light that draws me to him, like a moth to a flame. Will it burn and scar me, or will it lead me to refuge in his large, muscular arms?

His promise to end things between us also scares me and turns me on. It turns me on because he stands for something rather than falling for anything. It scares me because I would do anything for Cooper, and what if he asks me to kiss him? Coop is my best friend, and I would do anything to help him get what he wants.

“Does that promise apply to you?” I challenge. “You kissed Bella, remember?”

As soon as I say the words, I backtrack. “I’m sorry, Riot. She kissed you. I believe you. I should’ve told you a long time ago instead of letting you think you were to blame for the past four years.”

Did he think about me at all? I thought about him constantly. Even in a crowded room, my heart ached, and a crushing loneliness settled over me because I missed him so much.

But I was the one who wronged him so many times over the years. What I remember from our time together isn’t the full story. He bullied me and yanked my hair so much and so hard that I cut it. Yes, he did pull on my hair whenever he came up behind me in the hallways or on my walk home from school.

It wasn’t meant to bully me, though. He did it to get my attention, to show me he loved my hair. He didn’t yank, damn it. He gave the strands a gentle tug. I only cut it because I’d caught him and Bella kissing, and she had a short bob.

I thought that was what Riot preferred, not my long hair anymore. Otherwise, why would he have kissed my best friend?