Because you’re sweet and you don’t even know it. “I guess because I’m enjoying myself.”
He seemed to mull that over as he strummed a few chords. “Why?”
There were several answers she could give him. She could tell him that she liked being with him even though he wasn’t the happiest person she’d ever met. Far from it, in fact. Or she could tell him that he intrigued her. He was mysterious, which made her curious. The man was downright sexy with that bad boy thing he had going, so that of course appealed to her. Any of those reasons might have him running from her, however, so she thought it best to go with a reason that didn’t relate personally to him.
“It’s peaceful. Your music, the night, the sleeping dogs. I think I could sit here forever if someone would just deliver us food.” His attention was focused on her as she answered, as if whatever she said mattered to him. She could get lost in those sad eyes.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Riley. You make me want things I have no business wanting.” His eyelids hooded, and he stared down at his fingers as they plucked at the strings of the guitar. “I want you, but I’d hurt you, and that would kill me.”
“I think you might be worth the hurt, Cody.” Call her crazy, but damn, she wanted him, even though she believed that he probably would hurt her. Okay, no probably about it. But every bone in her body said he was worth the risk, and there was the slightest, tiniest, itty-bittiest chance that each of them could come out on the other end unscathed. They might even fall in love. At least one of them might, namely her.
She didn’t care. She wanted him.
“I watched American Sniper last night,” she said, the thought coming out of nowhere, then wanted to bite off her tongue when his fingers missed whatever chord they had intended and hit a jarring note.
He picked up the bottle that still held at least two glasses of scotch and poured the contents down his throat. Riley thought that if he knew how much he’d just revealed to her that he would never speak to her again. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She let her desire to be near him, to touch him, to comfort him fuel her decision to park herself onto his lap. He dropped the empty bottle to the floor with one hand and gently set his guitar down with the other.
The bottle made a clanking sound as it bounced and rolled on the porch’s wood floor. Sally and Pretty Girl jerked their heads up in unison, both scrambling to their feet, their noses reaching for the new toy.
“They believe you’ve invented a new game,” Riley said, swallowing her smile at the way Cody’s eyes widened at finding her on his lap. “Don’t think.” He was already worried about hurting her, and the last thing she wanted him doing was thinking of all the reasons she shouldn’t be straddling him.
“No thinking,” he muttered as he wrapped his fingers around her neck and pulled her head down, his mouth seeking hers. Each time they’d kissed . . . what, three times now? Not that she was counting, but their kisses just got better and better. Her mouth already knew the feel of his tongue seeking entrance, and she welcomed him in. The man didn’t know gentle. He demanded—he took—and that she let him was a marvel. Because of her background, she normally needed to be in control.
Wanting him closer, she threaded her fingers through the short spikes of his hair, and pressed her chest against his. Their noses bumped, and he angled his head for better access. A rumbling growl sounded from him when she fought his tongue with hers for supremacy, somehow knowing that he’d like that.
She thought maybe ten minutes of sucking each other’s tongues, nibbling on each other’s lips, and exploring each other with their hands passed before he pulled away. His head fell back against his chair, and he sucked air into his lungs like a man deprived of oxygen. Her breathing wasn’t much better.
“This isn’t a good idea, darlin’.”
“Tell me why.” She didn’t doubt that he had a list of reasons, each of which she would debunk. She wanted him, and she would have him. From the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her bottom, she didn’t doubt he wanted her. His problem wasn’t with down there. It was in his head. He thought he should be honorable, or some such nonsense.
“You watched that movie?”
She nodded.
“I met him once, Chris Kyle.” Cody turned his head to the side, watching his dogs paw at the scotch bottle. “On my first deployment. He was already on his way to becoming a legend by then, especially to the other snipers. I got it in my head that I’d beat his numbers.”
“Wasn’t that a good goal?” she asked when he paused. From what she’d learned watching the movie, the snipers had saved the lives of countless American soldiers.