Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I walk them both to the door and out on the front porch, but Janelle says, “Crap. I left my purse out back.”
She rushes off, leaving Riggs and me alone, which is awkward. When we were among the multitudes of family in the backyard, it was less stifling than just the two of us out here by ourselves.
I try to be funny to lighten the mood. I also want to take one last stab at rattling him, as his calm veneer seems to be the new norm. “If I say something irritating and piss you off enough, can we get in a quickie before Janelle returns?”
I’d thought that might offend Riggs because I’m still not sure about his sense of humor. I’m shocked when he flashes a sly smile—so slight, his mouth barely curves, but it’s there.
And then his expression darkens with challenge. “I can break out that condom in my wallet right now.”
There is absolutely no way we’re going to get a quickie in here, with or without provocation. But the fact that he put a condom in his wallet says something.
It’s an invitation to take whatever this attraction is between us further instead of waiting for a good fight to set our hormones raging.
My eyes lock on his, and I have never been more serious in my life about this impulsive offer I’m about to make. “I’ll text you my permanent passcode for the elevator and put you on the approved guest list, if you want to come over later.”
Riggs doesn’t get a chance to respond because Janelle rushes out the door, purse hitched over her shoulder. She walks right into me and gives me a ginormous hug. “Thanks so much for inviting me. This was the most fun I’ve had since moving here.”
“So glad you came and met my family.” I give her a squeeze and we release.
My gaze moves to Riggs, and all I get is a short nod.
No thank-you.
No gushing over the food or the fabulous company.
Not even an indication of whether he’s going to take me up on my offer tonight.
He and Janelle turn toward the street and walk along the sidewalk to wherever he parked.
CHAPTER 14
Riggs
I left Janelle at the condo, chattering on the phone with her new friend, Dahlia, who she met at Veronica’s family party. There was some guilt leaving her, but when I told her I was going to hook up with a friend, she urged me to go. We’d spent the evening together, including making homemade pizza that wasn’t bad.
When I told her I was going out to “hook up with a friend,” that wasn’t exactly lying. I’d consider Veronica a friend, and it’s most definitely a hookup. It’s just not meeting one of the guys for a beer as Janelle assumes. She joked as I left, “Take an Uber if you drink more than two beers.”
I didn’t bother correcting her assumption.
It’s almost 10 p.m., and I didn’t call or text Veronica to tell her I was coming.
I didn’t bother because I wasn’t sure I was going to go through with it. Hell, even as I approach the elevator after signing in at the lobby desk where the concierge checked my ID, I’m having second thoughts.
This isn’t going to be my normal hookup where I walk out the door after and forget about the woman. That won’t be possible, not just because Veronica isn’t the type you forget, but she’s also now an inextricable part of my life, given that she cares for Janelle when I’m gone.
The only saving grace in what could be a potential fiasco is that I’m confident Veronica isn’t looking for anything more than I am.
We only want to scratch some mutual itches, so I punch in the passcode to her penthouse and let the elevator carry me up to her.
When the doors slide open, I don’t have to consider creeping through Veronica’s house looking for her.
I don’t even have to let my gaze sweep the entirety of the area that’s open to my view, for Veronica is right there in the kitchen, and there’s no doubt she was expecting me.
I didn’t believe it was possible for me to be more attracted to her—crazier in lust with her—than I was before stepping off that elevator, but she’s got on the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
She’s not wearing the fancy, expensive lingerie as one might expect—as I expected, if I’m being honest—of a rich woman. No, she’s wearing a simple white cotton tank top with spaghetti straps. Her ample breasts stretch the thin material to the point of transparency so I can see with utter clarity her hard nipples. The tank comes down only as far as her belly button, and below that she has on a pair of boy shorts that sit low on her hips and ride up indecently high on her ass cheeks.