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Sunshine takes off, and Zoey barely has the time to grab on to the saddle horn. Immediately, I kick Gable and chase after them. “Loosen your legs and pull back on the reins!” I yell.
“I can’t!” she screams as her hat flies off, her hair blowing in the wind.
Seconds later, I’m next to her again, taking control until Sunshine slows down. I’m trying hard not to laugh at her, but when I see her holy shit expression, I can’t hold it in.
“Stop laughing at me, asshole!” She swats at my arm. “Your horse nearly killed me!”
I snicker, bringing us closer again. “I told you not to squeeze your legs.”
Her eyes widen as a blush creeps up her neck. “Well then, you shouldn’t be kissing me like that…”
Chuckling, I hand the reins back to her. “Noted.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ZOEY
The past few days with Riley have been nothing short of perfection. We meet for breakfast, sometimes lunch, and then we hang out at night once he’s done with work. I’ve been getting to know his aunts and cousins, helping them in the garden, and even baked cookies with his grandma yesterday afternoon. The Bishops are the kind of family I’ve never had, and it’s making my decision even harder. I have to go back home eventually to confess everything to my parents and face the truth, but I’m not ready to leave yet.
Tonight, Riley insisted on making dinner for me at his house. Every time I come over, he kicks Diesel out, and though I always feel bad about that, he reassures me Diesel will be just fine. It’s been fun seeing the dynamic of their friendship too. They’re just as obnoxious and playful as they were in Vegas. The closest friend I have in Phoenix is my sister, who’s now married and playing the role of the perfect wife.
Before Riley and I part ways each night, he always kisses me good night. In Vegas, after the alcohol fog cleared, I remembered everything from our amazing night together. My body hasn’t forgotten the way he touched me, how he set me on fire, and what it felt like to wake up next to him. I want more than just heated kisses, but I also need confirmation that there’s more than just hot sex between us, so we need to resist the urge.
Though it’s getting really damn hard when he winks and looks at me with that sexy smirk. It’s as if he knows my weaknesses and is just waiting for me to break.
Those dirty thoughts consume me as I stare at his tight ass in those jeans as he stirs something on the stovetop. After work, he showered, and now I’m ready to pounce. The man looks good in literally anything. Tonight he’s wearing a ball cap, which I find equally as sexy. Riley’s shirt looks painted on, showing off his pecs and biceps, and if the man doesn’t put out soon, I might combust.
“Are you enjoying the view?” he asks without looking over his shoulder.
I grab my glass of wine and take a sip. “I thought dinner came with the scenery.” Forcing my eyes off him, I look out the window above the kitchen sink.
“You know I can see your reflection, right?”
When I look closer, I see a smirk planted on his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mmhmm.” He chuckles before turning off one of the burners, then spins around to face me.
“You keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to dessert.” He’s in front of me in two long strides, planting his feet between my thighs as I sit on the barstool. Riley’s kitchen has an island with a breakfast bar, a nice marble countertop, and stainless steel appliances. It looks nothing like what I expected of a ranch cottage, but he told me they remodeled it a few years ago. It’s quite impressive.
“Well, it’s really not fair. Could you wear a garbage bag or something?”
He pops a brow. “And what? You think you’re innocent in all of this?”
“What? I’m just sitting here!” I defend, squeezing my thighs around his legs.
Riley doesn’t take his eyes off mine as he grabs my hand and slides it over his jeans. I feel his erection against my palm and hold back a smile, knowing I’m the reason for it.
“Does making pasta always make you this horny?” I quip, keeping a straight face. “Pasta-arousalitis? Is that a thing? You might want to see a doctor about that. Actually, more like a psychiatrist.”
“Funny,” he says, amused, arching his hips further into my hand. “Pretty sure I’ve had one since the day I met you.”
“Now you really might want to see a doctor for that. I imagine it hurts.” I lick my lips as I keep my hand on him. Does he have any idea how much self-control it’s taking not to rip off his clothes right now?
