Keep Her (4 page)

After a shot to calm my nerves and a trip to the ladies’ room, I let Beck convince me that it was indeed time to call it a night. When we finally ambled outside to hail a cab, the fresh air just made my drunkenness more prominent. Feeling giddy and reckless for a change, suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking of making up my own lyrics to
Cabaret
(one of Justin’s not so well known tunes) and belting them out. “Cabaret… ohhhh! Even though I’m three sheets to the wind, I ain’t hooking up with your hot ass.”
Oops.
Did I just say that out loud?

“What the fuck are you singing?” He looked at me like I was growing a second head, but then laughed as he steadied me on my wobbly feet.

His strong hands clutched my waist, the pads of his fingers brushing along the exposed skin of my midriff.
Whoa. Shivers.
It had to be the alcohol making me warm and fuzzy. Couldn’t be the thought of Beck’s hands rubbing
all parts
of my body. Nope—not going there. I needed a quick save.
Sarcasm. Confidence. Justin!

“Duh! It’s JT… my man. It
always
leads back to JT, Beckster. Don’t you know that?”

“Don’t you know how much I hate it when you call me Beckster?”

“Do you really? I thought you liked my nicknames for you.”

“Why? Are there more than one?”

“Of course there are, silly boy. You’re the Italian Stallion, the boy with the dragon tattoo, and the one that makes Marcus squirm the most… Becks on a Stick. Get it? Like Sex on a Stick?” I snorted and then realized what I’d said.
Shit!
How many drinks did I have? I was being way too free with my words.

I stumbled backwards as I danced around while rattling off his secret pet names. He reached out to stop me from toppling off the curb. And then he was touching me again.
Sweet Jesus.
He had to stop doing that.

“Wow. Really? I never knew I did it for you, Riles,” he said with the cocky, careless attitude that matched my brother’s.

“Oh, don’t go confusing a silly nickname with me having the hots for you. Yes, you’re adorable in that best friend of my little brother’s sort of way, but you most certainly do not do it for me, Beckster.”

At that, he arched an eyebrow and gave me this smoldering look that caused a dampness between my thighs.
Shit… what the hell?
That was one dangerous weapon he’d been holding out on me.

He inched closer and my breath caught. Within seconds, he was backing me up against the wall and then caging me between his arms. Suddenly my heart was rapping so hard against my chest I could barely control my breathing. Beck was going to make me break out in hives from the way he was looking at me.

My words came out all choppy. “What are you—why are you—”

“I know how to read women, Riles. I see how large those pretty pupils of yours are right now. Your chest,” he zeroed in on my cleavage, licking his lips slightly, “is rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. That little ticking underneath that soft skin on your neck tells me your pulse is racing, and that delicious, sweet aroma… you’re aroused as all hell. So, don’t tell me I don’t do it for you, baby. Because I know I most certainly do.”

Um…
what?
“Uh… uh…” Suddenly I was a stammering mute. My fingers itched to bury themselves in his wavy brown hair, to touch the delicious stubble that covered his always tanned complexion. I stared into Beck’s chocolate brown eyes, begging with my own for him to kiss me.
Kiss me?
Did I really want Beck to kiss me? God, his little speech had me so needy for him.

The alcohol in my system certainly played a part in my behavior, but honestly, I was so tired of doing the right thing and ending up alone. Maybe I needed to channel that inner wild side I’d always wanted to toy with. So what if I let my hair down this once? So what if I let the Beckster kiss me? It would only be this one time anyway. It would hold me over and satisfy this ridiculous craving just for one fleeting second. But as I was about to lift my arms and tangle my fingers in his sexy, unruly hair, the cab pulled up and Beck’s warmth vanished.

Feeling his absence, I practically wilted against the wall, wanting to crawl under a rock when he started to snicker. “Cab’s here, Riles. Wanna pick your chin up off the floor now?”

Mother fucker. He was teasing me. Beck had gotten me all hot and bothered and there was nothing I could do about it.

Damn, she was a sloppy drunk. Sexy, hot, and making my dick hard, but sloppy all the same. The sleeve of her skimpy shirt hung off her shoulder, revealing a purple lace bra strap. Interesting… I never took the stick-up-her-ass Grayson sibling for wearing sexy tit huggers. Even in my wildest dreams of Riley (and there had been a few over the years, if I’m being honest here) she wore plain white cotton panties. There was no mistaking she was gorgeous, but she was also very safe when it came to her appearance. I found that odd, because her line of work relied so much on colors and boldness and taking risks. Riley had not been a risk taker in all the years I’d known her.

But tonight I was seeing a different side to her, with her sexy outfit, her bright nail and lipstick color—it was about time she let her hair down. And kicked off her shoes… literally. She’d abandoned her wedges and was resting her bare feet against the back of the cracked vinyl front seat. Her skirt rode up her lap, giving the illusion of mile-long silky legs. Shit, she looked gorgeous like that.

And she’d clearly made herself comfortable on the deep back seat, not only by half-undressing but by singing her heart out. After telling the cab driver her address, Riley continued rendition after annoying rendition of that
Cabaret
song. Pop wasn’t my thing. In fact, music wasn’t really my thing unless it was classic rock, but Riley had a way of making an irritating song (sung on repeat) sound pretty damn good.

“Riles, how about a new tune?” I all but begged. She was on key, and actually coming up with some clever lyrics that had me laughing, but I was on the verge of hunting down Justin Timberlake myself if I had to suffer through it one more time.

“Okay, then.” She rolled her eyes, tapping her red-painted nails across her red-painted lips. “What do you have in mind?”

Silence was what I had in mind, but there were also a lot of other things swarming through my brain. Not so innocent things. Like dragging my tongue across her flawless skin from her ankle to her thigh. Like sucking that red lipstick right off her lips.
Shit!
Why was I thinking these things about my best friend’s sister? Why was I thinking these things about someone other than Marissa? Why? Because we were on a break; because I was hurt; because my pride had been blown to smithereens. And quite honestly, at that moment I didn’t want to think about Marissa at all. I was officially a pathetic chump forced into some sort of relationship limbo.

“Penny for your thoughts over there, Beckster?” She interrupted my silent tirade.

Oh, that was it!
All thoughts of Marissa vanished at the sound of that fucking nickname again. “Stop calling me that,” I growled playfully, lunging at her, and tickling the soft skin behind her knees.

“Oh my god, Beck. Stop that! Stop…” she trailed off, laughing uncontrollably.

For the first time in days, I allowed myself to laugh too. The musical sound of her contagious giggles and squeals only made my fingers move faster. In an attempt to back away from me, she fell against the seat so that she was lying beneath me as I continued my torture. I hovered over her for a split second, trying to get my brain to make a decision that I
wouldn’t
regret later. But something else won over and drew me in. I inched my face closer to hers, the magnetic pull of our eyes never losing contact. I leaned down so we were nose to nose, and her breath hitched with the sweetest little gasp as my lips grazed hers, softly at first. But when she tangled her hands in my hair and wrapped her legs around my waist…

I was a goner.

This was Riley Grayson I was groping and devouring in the back of a cab. I should probably be delicate and sweet and kiss her like a gentleman. God damn it, even though I wanted to rip her clothes off and sink my cock between those delicious thighs, I tamed the urge as I gently cupped her face in my hands.

For a split second, our eyes locked and I saw past the fervent lust and the sudden craving. It might be nice to enjoy this the right way. Riley and I could…

Fuck being a gentleman!
I wanted her legs spread open, her feet resting on my shoulders as I pounded into her and made her scream.

Unable to ignore my building urgency, I surged our bodies together, grinding my cock against her. Our tongues became wild, exploring unchartered, yet familiar, territory. I must’ve always wanted to kiss Riley and never knew how badly. Sucking her tongue and biting her lips while confined in this tight space was like feeding a hunger I never knew existed. The immediate friction of our writhing bodies had her arching her hips off the seat and grinding into the bulge trapped in my jeans.

“Mmmm,” she moaned. These sounds were killing me and urging me to keep going.

As we continued our kiss, her breathing intensified while my hands roamed her body, finally making their way up her legs and under her skirt. Shit, she felt like heaven beneath my fingertips. I wanted to feel all of her. To taste all of her. To have my pulsing cock inside her. God, even though I’d never been with her before, it was like I couldn’t get enough. I don’t know—maybe it was the thrill of having a one-man audience, or the idea that she was forbidden fruit, but this was one insanely powerful first kiss. And I certainly didn’t want it to end there.

Lucky for us, just as I was about to rip her skirt off—and she was gonna let me, too—the car came to a stop and the cabbie cleared his throat. “That’ll be $18.55.”

Still unable to disconnect myself from Riley, I reached into my pocket and threw the guy a few bills. “Keep the change.” I was pretty sure it was two twenties—not only had we given the guy a free peep show, but he also got the best tip of the night out of us. I so did not give a fuck. I needed to be out of this cab and inside her pussy.

“Fuck! What am I doing?” Riley muttered as she smoothed down her skirt, readjusted herself, and sat up.

I was already standing outside the cab, with an outstretched hand and tented jeans. Was this where it ended? Was the magic over? Or was there a chance to convince her it was okay to try this on for size?

Shit!
What the fuck was
I
doing? I was in love with another woman, even if things were a little messy right now.

But…

There it was. That dangling conjunction that could make or break any fucking sentence, any goddamn decision—right or wrong. In this case, my
but
was that I had to see this through—even if it was a dick move and a cop-out distraction from my problems with Marissa.

Trying to sound like a gentleman—let me rephrase that, a gentleman who wanted to try his luck at getting in her pants—I grabbed her hand and said, “Riles, we’re just having fun. Come on, I’ll walk you inside.”

“Beck, if I let you walk me inside, I’m going to want you stay. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

It wasn’t a good idea and I thought it was incredible that even after our heated kiss in the cab
and
in her tipsy state, Riley could still make a good judgment call.