Page 91 of Buckin' Around

Spencer breaks away from the kiss, breathless, and his forehead meets mine. “I’ve lost count of the weeks I’ve wanted to do that, Riles. And fuck, it was so much better than I could have ever imagined.”

My legs are wrapped around his waist, his hard ridge pressing into my throbbing center. I am acutely aware that the line we crossed is so far back in the rearview mirror that it’s faded to nothing.

I can barely breathe, let alone respond.

Breathlessly, I manage, “Was this a bad idea?”

He groans, rolling his forehead. “Fuck, I doubt anything that involves you is ever a bad idea.”

I huff an indignant laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are so delusional, Lockwood?”

His hand grips my chin, tilting it up as his head moves away and our gazes connect. “Only when it comes to my girls.”

My ovaries just went up in flames, only the ashen remnants of them ever to be found again.

My girls.

Like I am a permanent fixture in his life.

He really is delusional.

My chest caves under a weight that I can’t hold off.

“Put me down, Spence,” I breathe.

He shakes his head, his hand cupping the back of my neck as his forehead meets my own again. “No. Can’t do it.”

Emotion swells in my throat, and I have to clench my jaw to tamp it back. I loosen my grip around his waist, and my feet meet the floor. With a gentle touch, I guide his hand from my neck.

Staring anywhere but directly at the blue eyes that are brimming with confusion, hurt, and immense need, I slip his shirt from his good arm before carefully taking it down off his bad shoulder.

“Remember to stay in there for as long as you can,” I say quietly and slip out the door.

Pulling it shut, I lean on the cool, hard wood and let my head rest on it. Eyes shuttering closed, I haul in the first useful breath in the last five minutes.

I shouldn’t have done that.

I should have kept my mouth fecking shut.

Because never before have Ieverfelt an intensity like that. A warmth that feels like home, from the briefest of touches from a man.

There is no way in this lifetime I will ever be able to have all the things I want. Not when they are literally an ocean apart.

Ivy iscrawling.

“Oh my god, Spence!” Ivy is on all fours, heading down the hallway toward the back screen door. Or, more likely, to the dust bunnies dancing in the morning sunlight.

Spence scrambles from the living room where he and Brady are mounting the TV on the wall, sliding across the floor in his socks. His jeans and T-shirt are clean and neat, unlike his unruly blonde hair that looks like he’s run his hands through it over and over since he got up.

From the damn sofa.

Which will not be happening tonight.

I meant it when I said I’m on the sofa. That this is his home.

“Holy shit!” His hands crawl through his hair again, and I can’t help the soft chuckle that echoes up my throat. He stops by my side.