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And it’s magic.

CHAPTER6

Dean

“Okay, your Instagram and TikTok accounts are up and running with a ton of posts saved in drafts. If you can keep up once a day posts, you’ll build a big following on both. The website needs some work, but we can do that later once we have the merchandise store ready to go. Oh, and I heard back from Red Dog Brewing and they’re excited to sponsor the food truck for opening day tomorrow.”

I could marry this woman. Like, right now.

Riley is a force of nature, and her business sense is incredible. In the few short days since our first date, not only has she started her job at a non-profit in Westport, she’s also managed to streamline my entire launch plan for the bar and given me ideas for future plans I hadn’t even considered.

“Beautiful, you know you didn’t have to reach out to them,” I try to chide her, but she just rolls her eyes and spins her chair back around to the computer set up on Mila’s kitchen table.

“I didn’thaveto do anything. I wanted to.”

It’s the same response she’s given every time I’ve tried to thank her for her help. And just like every other time, she’s tried to brush off her assistance. I take it as an opportunity to push her computer out of the way so I can lean down and rest my elbows on the table in front of her and kiss her.

Not that I need a reason. I could kiss this woman until the day I die and never get enough.

Her arms twist around my neck, holding me in place as I greedily slide my tongue between her lips, drinking her in.

“Dean, we have to finish your opening weekend schedule,” she murmurs against my mouth. I just growl in response and kiss her harder.

I feel her hands trail over my shoulders, squeezing my biceps. I’ve noticed Riley’s got a thing for my arms, and never have I been more grateful for the upper body workout of reno’ing the bar and carrying heavy kegs. I haven’t exactly had time to go to the gym.

Straightening slightly to ease the pressure building in the front of my pants, I kiss her again before backing away. It’s fucking hard not to take things further with Riley, but we haven’t talked about how or what we might need to do differently for her. I’m not scared away by it, but I do want to make sure that she’s in charge of how fast we move and what happens next.

Once opening weekend for Hastings is over with, I plan on googling the shit out of “intimacy for people who have spinal cord injuries” and figuring out how to talk to her about it without sounding like a sex-crazed creep.

Even if the sex-crazed part is true, especially when it comes to Riley Novak.

“Fine. You’re a cruel taskmistress; let’s look at a schedule instead of making out. Sounds like a great plan.” I let my voice fill with teasing sarcasm, and Riley’s answering giggle is everything I hoped it would be.

A couple of hours later, when all the scheduling for not only opening weekend but also the first week is done, and I’ve finalized everything for tomorrow, we make our way to Mila’s living room. Riley lifts herself onto the couch, and only once she’s settled do I sit down and lift her legs into my lap.

The fact that she’s comfortable enough around me to let me do this so soon in our relationship is not something I take for granted. Mila’s told me that Riley has a hard time with people wanting to do things for her that she’s perfectly capable of doing herself, and even more so with people touching her legs since her accident.

But last night when we were watching some stupid rom-com movie at my house and talking about all the cliché things the characters were doing, Riley confessed she had never cuddled on the couch with a date. It took some maneuvering, but eventually we figured out a sort of spooning position, with her head resting on my arm and my leg in between hers. What started as an awkward confession became a turning point in our physical relationship.

It was probably a good thing that she couldn’t feel how much it affected me having her in my arms at last.

My hands start rubbing up and down Riley’s legs. She’s wearing these leggings that are so fucking soft, I wish it was acceptable for a dude to wear them because I would. Every day.

“Is this okay?” I ask quietly. She nods.

“Just because I can’t feel it doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good, if that makes sense. Like —” Riley huffs an adorable little noise “— I know you’re doing it out of affection, so it feels good mentally, even if I can’t feel it physically. And I still remember what it felt like for people to touch my legs affectionately. My mom used to rub my calves when I would get growing pains as a kid. So I guess seeing you do it, and mentally remembering what it feels like makes me happy. Does that even make sense?”

I lean over, thankful for my height making it easy to reach her face, and kiss her. “It does. And I’m glad. Because all I want to do is make you feel good, whether it’s mentally or physically.”

Her hand cups my cheek as she pulls me back down for another sweet kiss. “You do, Dean.”

Our kiss deepens. I shift up toward her, needing to be closer, and lift my hands to my favourite place, her hair. But just as I’m about to get all tangled up in there and kiss the shit out of her, everything goes wrong.

Riley lets out a noise of alarm and her head shoots up, crashing into mine at the exact second that I feel her legs slip off my lap and her body twists.

“Fuck!” I grab her legs, her arms tangling with mine, as I carefully lift them back onto the couch, scrambling to get out of the way. My eyes are watery from the impact of our collision. “Fuck, Riley, I am so sorry! Are you okay?” My hands drift over her, but I’m scared to touch her. She adjusts her own legs, her eyes cast down, not meeting my gaze.

“Riley, babe, I’m sorry, I got caught up in kissing you and I forgot —”

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