Page 50 of The Blind Date


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“Know what?” I ask, and Riley’s answer is delayed as she wraps her lips around the bite of cheesecake. Her eyes close, rolling up and her eyelids fluttering as she moans with a sexy, throaty purr that has my cock surging to full hardness in my pants and my mind thinking of a dozen ways to pull that sound from her again. None of them involve cheesecake.

“Mmm, so good,” she whispers when she opens her eyes. “That I love cheesecake.”

“Who doesn’t love cheesecake? But consider that noted.” I mime scribbling a note in an imaginary notebook, but the truth is, I basically have one in my mind. I want to know everything about Riley Watson, from the mundane to the extraordinary.

“You like cheesecake too?” she guesses.

I shrug, knowing I need to show this side of me as well. “Growing up, it was . . . a special treat, like once a year for birthdays. And even then . . . let’s just say that even if it’s not real, I still have a fond place in my heart for the Jell-O No-Bake variety. Especially the Oreo one.”

“Ooh, fancy,” Riley teases, but when she sees my eyes, she leans in. “Promise me something, Noah.”

“What’s that?” I ask, leaning in until we’re nose to nose. It feels vaguely silly to be this close and not kissing her, but because of that, it makes me smile. Like we’re being intimate without anything sexual. It’s just closeness and comfort with each other.

“Promise me that when the time’s right, you’ll tell me all about those times,” Riley says. “I know a bit from Arielle’s point of view. I want yours.”

“I promise,” I tell her, and as though she’s rewarding me for the risk, she takes the spoon and scoops a chunk of cheesecake, offering it to me. I take the bite, enjoying the sweet, tangy flavor. With my mouth full of heaven, it’s easier to tell her, “That bedtime story . . . it was real. It was true. That’s when everything changed.”

Nobody knows that story. Not the whole thing the way I told it in those messages. My mom knows some, Arielle knows other parts, but Riley . . . knows everything. From my secret shame to my elation to my mother’s sacrifice.

Riley shakes her head. “It didn’t change anything. You were already an amazing person, just a miniature version.” She holds up her finger and thumb an inch apart like I was a tiny leprechaun that found the money. “And your mom was already a hard worker. All of that was already in place. The money was a resource, not a catalyst.”

Fuck, this woman is amazing. I tell her my deepest, darkest shame, and she somehow shines a light on it and makes it seem like I was a golden child. And not in a dismissive way that doesn’t respect what I’ve been through, but rather, in a way that accepts it as formative of who I am. Because she likes me, she likes whatever it took to make me . . . me.

“You were an amazing person back then too,” I tell her, still apologizing for what I said long ago. “And you used your awesomeness to make the world better. For so many. Even me.”

I take the spoon back, and this time, when I feed her the cheesecake, I lean in, kissing her and tasting the creamy sweetness from her own lips. She leans into me too, the cheesecake between us forcing us to become a triangle as our lips and tongues explore each other.

“Mmm . . . that bite was even tastier,” Riley murmurs when our lips part. “How about you try this bite?”

She skips the spoon, plunging two fingers into the cheesecake and holding them up. Before I can take them into my mouth, she rubs her fingers under her jawline. “Hungry?”

Fuck, am I.

I take the container of cheesecake from her, putting it on the small coffee table in front of us, and dive for her.

I pull her to me, my mouth finding the streak of creamy whiteness on her skin and licking her throat to the point of her jaw. Riley moans when I nibble there, and I want to feel that sound vibrate against my chest. I grip her hips, guiding her to climb into my lap. I can feel her heat, and I know she can feel my hardness. I use my hold on her hips to press her tighter against me, and she arches, rubbing herself along my shaft.

The cheesecake is gone from her neck and sucked from her fingers, but her skin is just as sweet, so I continue pressing kisses along her neck and up to her lips. Her mouth tastes like sugar and tart cherries, and I savor every stroke of her tongue against mine.

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