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Just One Night(71)



pushing them apart. And then his head dipped to her, tasting her in slow, torturous

strokes as she arched up into him, her fingers clawing helplessly.

She’d known about the act, of course. Hell, she’d written about it. But hearing

other women describing it and actually experiencing it? Not. The. Same. Thing.

He worked a finger inside her as his tongue moved faster, circling in exactly the

place she needed it, and before she could register what was happening, she

shattered against his mouth, confirming that she was, and likely always would be,

a screamer.

Sam kissed his way up her body, nibbling her shoulder as she caught her breath.

“So?” he asked.

“Huh?” she asked sleepily.

“The March issue. You wrote about how some women liked that better than the

actual sex.”

“Well …,” she said, pursing her lips and seriously considering.

His eyes smiled down into hers. “How about a little basis for comparison? Say—

July of last year?”

“What, do you, like, study my articles before bed or something? Was that the

reverse-cowgirl one?”

“Nope,” he said, moving to sit back against the pillows. “We can try that next time.

Tonight I want to see your face when you come.”

Sweet Jesus. He grabbed her hips, maneuvering her over his lap as his tongue

found her nipple and flicked it softly. His hands slid around to cup her ass, lifting

her slightly until she was poised over him.

They’d gone girl-on-top before, but this was different. Intimate.

He lifted his head to meet her eyes before pushing her hair back from her face.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Riley’s breath caught. He’d called her body beautiful before, but this was different.

He was looking at her.

Riley lowered onto him slowly. When he was finally all the way in, he closed his

eyes and swore softly before his hands tangled in her hair and pulled her head

back slightly, exposing her neck and chest for his exploring mouth.

The pace was slow, as though they were both holding on to the moment, making

it last. Even when their breath came faster, their hands more desperate, Sam

refused to let her speed up, keeping them on the brink as long as possible before

finally, finally letting her go over the edge.

He followed her almost immediately, burying his face in her neck, and when he

whispered her name quietly, reverently, Riley bit her lip to stop the words she

longed to say.

Love me. Keep me. I’m yours.





Chapter Nineteen


“Dude. You got a dog?”

“Apparently,” Sam muttered, standing and putting a wrench in his back pocket as

Skippy bounded over to Liam.

“A boy, obviously,” his best friend said, as Skippy promptly rolled to his back and

displayed the goods while demanding a belly rub.

“Yeah, taking him in next week to get neutered.”

“Poor little guy,” Liam said with a last pat. “What’s with everyone hopping on the

get-a-dog bandwagon lately? Riley mentioned she got a puppy too, although I

haven’t seen it yet.”

Sam avoided his friend’s eyes. “Kinda lonely out here. Thought the company

might be nice.”

He expected a grilling, but Liam merely nodded. “Makes sense. You’ve always

been a dog guy.”

Had he? He’d never had one. He’d asked his mother every year on his birthday

until he was ten, and then he’d just given up.

But Riley had known what Sam had never told anyone, save for apparently a

wine-fueled slip one Thanksgiving. And now apparently Liam knew it too.

That part of friendship continually caught Sam by surprise. That knowing without

telling. That blind support, and even the occasional push when you needed it.

“So,” Sam said, grabbing two of the staff tasting glasses and heading toward the

casks. Liam was always game for a taste test on Sam’s more experimental stuff.

“How are the Dutch women?”

“Hot,” Liam said, taking an appreciative sniff of the tumbler Sam handed him.

“And get this … I met honest-to-God triplets. Leggy, blond, identical. I would have

killed for my wingman.”

Sam nodded automatically, but the truth was that the thought of leggy blondes

didn’t do anything for him.

Leggy brunettes, on the other hand …

“Any more trips planned, or was this the last of it?”

“One more week. Then the project wraps up.”

One more week.

One more week before Sam had to look his best friend in the eye and try to

convince him he was worthy of his baby sister.

Something Sam wasn’t at all sure that he could do. Not because he was afraid to

face Liam.

But because he was afraid he wasn’t worthy.