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“You riding my cock would have been presumptuous of me.”
My jaw hit the floor.
Four quick steps back.
Four quicker steps forward.
“Careful, kitten.”
As soon as the last word left his mouth, my back hit the wall with a hard thud. I was dizzy, but my hands instinctively shot up to his chest, my palm right over his heart.
His pulse was steady.
Precise.
Calm.
Not one ounce of regret was in his brazen stare. Except he wasn’t looking at me—Riley was looking through me.
What did he want?
What occurred next happened so fast, yet it still felt like it played out in slow motion right in front of my eyes.
Caging me in with his strong, muscular arms, he leaned in close to my mouth. Close enough to where I could feel his breath on my lips, making me lightheaded from the peppermint scent. Or maybe that was still from the impact of my head hitting the wall.
Either way, I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t speak.
I was barely breathing.
Then, without saying a word, he ever so lightly kissed the corner of my lips. His mouth lingered for a moment before he pulled away to look deep into my eyes.
I’d never forget what he asked next…
Not in a million years.
In a condescending tone, he questioned, “How’s it feel to be kissed by a Hawkins, kitten?”
—Tristian—
She shoved me.
Hard.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect it. Although coming from her, I was more shocked she actually had the balls to do it.
“Tristian?” she acknowledged angrily.
“The one and only.”
“You said your name was Riley.”
“Do I look like a Riley, kitten?”
“No! You look like an asshole!” Her hands flew to her mouth.
“My, my, my, kitten… That was very unladylike for a Southern belle. What would Daddy say?”
