More Than Enough
Page 97

I sit up slightly. “Shut up!”
She draws a cross on her chest. “Swear it. He used to call you Devil Baby.”
“No way.”
Riley nods. “So I was thinking we go over there and find a photo of you as a baby and make a cardboard mask that you can wear when you sneak into his room one night with a fake knife and just chant—” her voice deepens, “—Devil baby! Devil baby!”
I sit up completely, pushing her hands away. “Riley.”
“What?” she asks, her hands mid air.
“How the fuck did I land you?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re kind of hot, Banks. That’s all.”
“That’s all?”
She shrugs and pats her lap again.
I lie back down.
With a single finger, she starts to trace around all of my features, her eyes locked on mine. “You know when we did this the first time…” She runs her finger across my lips. “I noticed your smile.”
I kiss her finger. “My smile?”
“Yeah. It tilts higher on the right than the left.”
“It does?”
She nods.
I get more comfortable. “All I remember was wanting to kiss you. Bad. Really fucking bad.”
“I know. You asked me if I wanted you to,” she says, her voice low.
“And you lied,” I tell her.
She nods. “I was so scared.”
“I know.”
“I’m not scared of you anymore, Dylan.”
Momentarily, I wonder if she means being with me or me in general. Then I realize I don’t care. “No?”
“Not at all,” she says, shaking her head. Then she smiles. “Hey Dylan?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want me to kiss you right now?”
“Hudson. I want you to more than fucking kiss me right now.”
She giggles. “Oh yeah?”
“You know what I saw when I came home tonight?”
She leans back, her brows bunched. “What?”
“You left the flat iron on.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens. Nothing comes out.
I arch an eyebrow. “You know what that means?”
She starts to undo the buttons of her shirt.
Ten minutes later, we’re naked, rolling around on the floor surrounded by cushions. Our hands, our mouths, our tongues exploring every single inch of each other’s bodies. A few minutes after that, she’s on top of me, her hands flat on my stomach, her hips thrusting, moving me in and out of her. She’s so warm, so wet, so damn perfect. Her back arches, her head tilted back causing her loose hair to tickle my thighs. “Dylan, I’m so fucking close,” she whispers, her movements getting faster.
I sit up and flip us until she’s beneath me, just like I know she likes. I start to move, pushing in and out of her while her nails scratch my back, her legs wrapped around mine and her back arching off the floor, her hips meeting mine. My mouth dips to her neck, kissing softly as I make my way up to her ear. Our bodies covered in sweat, moving as one.
“Oh fuck,” she breathes. She’s close, but not close enough. “Dylan.”
I bite down on her ear and push into her.
“Fuck,” she moans, her head falling back. I push off one hand, the other on her cheek. She moves her head to the side, taking my thumb in her mouth, her eyes on mine, filled with lust. “I fucking love being inside you,” I tell her. She moans, her mouth opening just enough for me to remove my thumb and move it down her body. I thumb her clit, watching her eyes roll back. She moans louder. “Your pussy feels so fucking good, baby.”
“Oh fuck!” She bites down on my shoulder, muffling her cry of pleasure. She comes around me, and a second a later, I join her.
“You lucky fucking bastard,” Dave says.
“I know,” I mumble.
“Know what?” she breathes.
I settle my breaths enough to pull back. Leaning up on my forearm, I move the hair stuck to her brow so I can see her eyes. “How fucking lucky I am.”
 
 
Sixty
 

Dylan
Here’s the thing about love, I’ve come to realize. It’s just like time. The word, the term of endearment—it’s the same for everyone. For friends, family, the person you intend to spend the rest of your life with—the “bones” of adoration are comparable. You do what you can to make the people you love happy… to make their wishes come true. But what you do with that love—how you let it wrap itself around you and control your actions—that’s what makes it unique.
And my actions will always, always, speak louder than my words.
* * *
It didn’t take long for the guys to come up with a retaliation. A week after my homecoming party, I woke up for work at the construction site and like any other day, I walked into the garage. There, right on top of my truck, was a giant Play-Doh cock covered in glitter. Balls on the cab, shaft running down the bed and onto the ground, through the garage door and all the way down the driveway, ending on the road. If that hadn’t been bad enough, they’d hooked up the hose somewhere inside the t-rex sized dick and had water coming out of the head and spilling out onto the road.
Well played, boys.
Well fucking played.
So, I had to come up with something better. Something bigger. Which was hard because I needed to make sure they’d all be at the same place at the same time.
That was the third item on the agenda for today.
The first was to get supplies.
The second would determine the third.
The second was also the most important moment of my life.

I grasp Riley’s hand as we walk with the pretense of heading home after the hardware store. I ordered what I pretended were my retaliation supplies and told them I’d pick them up another day. Truth is I didn’t need any of it. I just needed a reason to get Riley out of the house. To this part of town. To this particular strip of shops. I squeeze her hand tighter and lead her to the store with a glass door—the same glass door I’d walked through yesterday. She’s too distracted on her phone, texting Sydney about the details of the next slumber party. Sydney is part of the plan for the second part of my agenda.
I open the door, heart racing, palms sweaty.
And then I stop in the middle of the store, waiting for Riley to come to.
When she must realize I’ve stopped, she looks up from her phone—first at me and then to our surroundings. Her eyes narrow. “What are we doing?”
She’s clueless, just for a moment, before it hits her. And when it does, her eyes widen and her breath catches and even though I should probably feel the walls closing in and my breath leaving me, I feel none of it. I feel calm. The type of calm I can only find in her. “What are we doing?” she repeats, her voice softer.
“Just entertain me okay?”
“What…” Her hand loosens on her phone, causing it to fall on the ground. Neither of us bother to pick it up. Instead, I lead her to the glass display cabinet where the rings of the jewelry store are displayed. Right on cue, the clerk comes up behind the counter, her smile warm as she nods at me. Riley hasn’t taken her eyes off mine—because just like the time I surprised her on her birthday, she thinks that seeing what we’re doing will make it real and she’s not ready.