Sweet

Chapter Fifteen

“Don’t spoil them,” Riley told me as I let Jayden and Easton fill my convenience store basket with a variety of candy and soft drinks. Easton seemed to have a thing for grape soda, and how could I argue with that? He was a guy after my own heart.

“It’s not spoiling them to let them get something to take to the pool. I’m not going to just buy stuff for me and then eat and drink in front of them. That’s so rude.”

Riley eyed my basket. “Hangover food?”

“Yep.” There was chips, chips, and more chips in there. Plus Twizzlers and orange juice and grape soda for me in addition to Easton’s. Jayden had picked bottled ice tea, which struck me as seriously gross. You could see things floating in there.

I had showered at Riley’s house, then we had swung by my apartment and packed one of my two suitcases. It wasn’t awesome that I was paying rent on a place I was almost never going to be in, but whatever. The high cost of a relationship. But now I was in my yellow bikini, hoodie and shorts on it, fortunately wearing my own sunglasses, making our pit stop before the pool. I tossed two trashy magazines and a fashion one in the basket.

“Are you done?” he asked me, eyebrows raised.

“Can I get gum?” Jayden asked.

“No,” Riley told him. “You already have a drink and chips. Money doesn’t grow on trees, U.”

“It should,” was Jayden’s opinion on that.

I laughed. “Totally.”

When we got to the pool, I blinked. “Holy crap, there’s a ton of people here.”

Okay, I can admit that I had never been to a public pool before. Why would I? My parents had a pool and so did the country club my dad golfed at. But this was more seminaked bodies together in one place than at the last night we’d gone clubbing.

“It is Memorial Day weekend,” Riley said. “I’m not surprised it’s crowded.”

“Chair.” Tyler pointed to a free chaise and Easton darted off to claim it, his scrawny limbs allowing him to dodge and weave around other people. He dove onto it with a move worthy of professional wrestling.

“Impressive,” I said.

What was even more impressive was that all four of the Mann brothers agreed I should have the chair. I was touched to the bottom of my cynical heart. “Really?”

“Sleep off that hangover,” Tyler told me.

“Thanks, guys.” I spread out my towel and sat down, then set down the plastic bag with our haul. “Who wants their stuff?”

“I’m going in first,” Riley said. “I’m boiling.” He peeled off his shirt and I eyeballed those muscles and his tattoos.

Yummy. Biting a Twizzler, I said, “Put on sunscreen.”

“Jessica, I am on the roof of a house everyday without a shirt on.” He flipped his waistband down to show me the difference in his skin tone. Yep, he was whiter down there. “I don’t think sunscreen is going to matter at this point.”

“It’s never too late to prevent skin cancer.”

“Put it on Jayden instead. He’s practically transparent.”

He was. His skin tone was at least two shades lighter than Tyler’s and Riley’s. “Sit down here, Jayden, and I’ll put it on your shoulders.”

He squawked in protest when I sprayed him. “It’s cold!”

“Wimp,” Tyler said.

“Shut up.”

I rubbed it into his skin and Jayden made sounds of enjoyment.

Riley grinned. “You should see his face right now, Jess. I think he’s working up a chub.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” I told him primly. “You’re going to embarrass Jayden.”

“No, it’s actually true,” Jayden said, glancing at me over his shoulder.

His brothers almost died laughing.

Nice.

I wiped my hands on my towel. Easton was digging through the bag and I saw he was eyeing my fashion magazine, which had a topless model on the cover, artfully covering her breasts. I remembered what Riley had said about Playboy and I decided I needed to intervene.

“Find your stuff?” I asked him, peeling off my hoodie so I could spray sunscreen on my chest and arms.

He just nodded without looking at me and dropped the bag.

“Ready?” Riley asked him, rubbing the top of his head so that Easton rocked back and forth.

He nodded again.

I sprayed the tops of my breasts and started rubbing them. Riley made a sound in the back of his throat. “Need any help?”

“No, thank you.” I wasn’t going to subject myself to that kind of contact in public. I was so hot for him I’d probably be foaming at the mouth by the time he was done. “Easton’s waiting.”

Tyler was kicking his shoes off and I asked him, “Hey, have you heard from Robin at all? I’m getting worried. She never answered my text.”

He paused pulling his shirt off. “Robin’s fine. I saw her leave with Nathan.”

There was an odd look on his face. “What?”

His expression was guarded. “Nothing. What, what?”

“I don’t know. You look weird.”

“Nope.” He dropped his shirt and headed straight to the water.

Huh. That was not normal.

“Put my wallet behind your ass,” Riley said.

“What?” I said, distracted from Tyler’s weirdness by my boyfriend’s weirdness. “Did you just tell me to stick your wallet behind my ass?”

“Yes. So no one steals it. My phone, too.”

Suddenly I had Riley’s cell phone crammed behind my butt. Followed by his leather wallet. Yeah, this was comfortable.

But I figured he would know the risks involved with leaving valuables around at the pool more than me, so I tucked my own phone in my bikini top. Not comfortable either. Though the sun was warm and as I lay back I dozed in and out of sleep, the alcohol effect still lingering.

Until ice cold water droplets fell on my bare stomach. I jumped, my eyes flying open. All four Mann boys were standing around me, dripping wet.

“Does anyone notice they’re dripping on me?” I asked.

Apparently the answer was no, and they didn’t care, because no one said anything.

Riley ran his hand through his hair and nudged me with his knee. “Scoot over.”

“Scoot over to where? The ground? This is a chair for one.”

“You can lean against me.”

“Can I at least spring your wallet from my butt then?”

“Yeah, put it under the chair.” Riley put his leg behind me to straddle the chair as I leaned forward. He sat down.

Water dripped down my back. And I swear his junk smacked me in the back of the head. When I leaned back onto his chest, his arms coming around me, cold and wet, I winced as goose bumps rose on my body, but I didn’t really mind. It felt fantastic to be this comfortable with him, to have a place to spend a Sunday.

“Ah, this is a perfect day,” he said, echoing my thoughts, kissing the back of my head. “Now if only a burger would appear in my hand.”

“All we have are chips.” I leaned to the left and snagged a bag. Yanking it open, I held a chip up over my shoulder. Riley pulled it into his mouth hands free, his tongue flicking over my fingers. A shiver went through me that had nothing to do with pool water.

I popped a chip in my own mouth. His hands were resting on my hips. Easton had perched himself on the bottom of the chair and he was inspecting a scab on his knee. Tyler and Jayden were laying on a couple of towels on the ground next to us, Tyler with a shirt over his face.

“So Jessica Sour, huh?” Riley asked, his voice amused by my ear.

Oh, shit. I had actually said that out loud? “What are you talking about?” I went for innocence.

“You don’t remember calling yourself that?”

“Nope.”

“Bullshit.” His arms were locked together under my breasts and he squeezed me. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I believe we have our names for a reason. I mean, think about it . . . Riley Mann. I’ve certainly earned that title.”

I snorted. “And you’re modest about it, too.”

“The truth is the truth,” he teased. “And Jessica Sweet. It’s perfect for you.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so.”

“Even though I’m lying to my parents?”

I could feel his shrug. “You have your reasons.”

I snuggled against him. “If you could do anything in the world, say, if you didn’t have to be in construction and could go to college or whatever, what would you do?”

“I have no idea. None whatsoever. How about you? What if you could pick your own major in college, what would it be?”

Glancing back at him, I grinned. “I have no idea either. So it seems pointless to take a stand on it if I don’t have an alternative in mind.” I had thought a lot about it and what interested me and I hadn’t really come to any conclusions. It made me feel lazy and indecisive.

But today I didn’t care about being lazy. Riley seemed to like me exactly the way I was.

“I figured why think about it when it can never happen? Waste of wanting, for me. It is what it is.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Nah, not usually. Everyone has a part to play and this is mine. It’s what you make of it. Sometimes I let my temper get the best of me and I struggle with that, but I can’t complain. Not with your ass rubbing against me right now.”

“Pure poetry,” I told him.

“If you want poetry go read Shakespeare.”

“I’d rather stick my finger down my throat than read Shakespeare. I think we’re good.” I never understood poetry, truthfully. It was like a trick, every word meaning something than what it was originally intended. A mind fuck, that was poetry. Who needs that?

“Hey, if you married me your name would be Jessica Sweet Mann. That’s literally the best name I’ve ever heard.”

Or the worst. OMG. It was awful. Yet the fact that he said the word “married” in a sentence referring to me and him made me breathless. He didn’t mean that, obviously. I mean, ludicrous. But why would his mind even go there? It had to be a point A to point B to point C kind of thing, but if he could even mentally cross that bridge, even to tease me, well, that made me shift even closer to him, a girly glow settling over me.

“That name is balls.”

He laughed. “I think it rocks.”

My phone vibrated against my boob. I pulled it out. Robin had finally answered. Im fine. Hungover.

Did you hook up with Aaron?

No.

Want to meet us at the pool?

No.

K. ttyl

She didn’t answer that.

Looking up, I realized that Easton was throwing Cheetos at a woman’s very large backside.

“Hey, stop wasting those,” Riley told him. “They’re expensive.”

“That’s your teachable moment parenting response?” I asked him, amazed. “Nothing about not throwing snack foods at women’s butts?”

“Yeah. That, too.” Riley shrugged. “I told you I’m not that good at this parenting thing. I keep him alive, don’t I? The finer points sometimes elude me. Besides, I would have done the same damn thing when I was eleven. It’s a pretty substantial ass and she’s wearing hot pink.”

I had no problem picturing him as an eleven year old, with a smart mouth and a lust for freedom. He had probably been trying to sneak off to try to get tattooed. “You do deserve credit for keeping him alive. But maybe you should all try to remember that he isn’t in his twenties.”

“I know that. He’d have a job if he was. And he’d be taller.”

Eye rolling. That’s all that demanded. “Easton, why are you throwing Cheetos at her?” I asked, curious to figure out what was going on in Easton’s head.

But he just shrugged. “Because it’s big and right in front of me. I wanted to see if they’ll bounce.”

That’s what I got for asking. The truth, which wasn’t that pretty. “But if she realizes what you’re doing, you’re going to hurt her feelings. No one likes to be made fun of, and you’re basically making fun of her.”

Easton didn’t answer me. He just threw the Cheetos back in the plastic store bag and went back to the pool, jumping in cannonball style.

“Well, that went well.” I felt bad. “I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.” Who did I think I was, telling Riley how to handle Easton? Telling Easton how to behave? It wasn’t like I was some model daughter. Clearly. Just ask my parents.

“Don’t sweat it.”

“I don’t want him to hate me.” He was an odd little kid, but I was getting fond of him, and I wanted him to like me.

“He doesn’t hate you. And you’re right, he probably does need better manners, but I’ve been more focused on keeping him. I hate to say it, but it’s better for him since Mom died. Less swearing, less drama, no drugs, no violence. I figure the other stuff will catch up later.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a horrible, pretentious, elitist bitch. Thinking I can come in and clean your house and help you with Easton.” My chest felt tight. “Next time just tell me to shut up.”

“Jess, stop being so goddamn sensitive. I know you’re only trying to help. I appreciate that. And I don’t find you elitist. Maybe a little inexperienced when it comes to the, you know, real world, but if you were elitist, you wouldn’t be with me, and you wouldn’t be living in my house, or being seen riding around in my piece-of-shit Impala. Or at the public pool.”

Maybe he was right. Just because I had grown up in a bubble didn’t make me pretentious. Just inexperienced. It was my mother who likes designer labels, not me. That had never been a priority to me. “I don’t mean to be sensitive. I’ve never thought of myself that way.”

“Well, no one wakes up and says ‘I’m going to be sensitive today.’ It’s probably because you’re tired. I always get pissed off when I’m hungover. Every little thing irritates me.”

“I don’t remember you acting that way at all. You pulled up carpeting hungover and never complained.”

“Okay, you’re right. I am awesome.”

I laughed. He always managed to make me feel better.

He tipped my head backward and I almost went cross-eyed looking up at his super cute face. “You’re more awesome-er,” he said.

While I didn’t believe it, I believed that he believed it.

And that was good enough for me.

When he kissed me, I realized that falling in love with Riley was just like having my head tilted backward—blood rushing, dizzy, hot and desperate, the world spinning.

In bed that night, our bodies close and warm, Riley’s hand firmly on my hip, pulling me tighter in to him, I tried to remember his analogy. Food. This was like food. Like me eating a slice of loaded pizza—pick one piece off at a time and savor it, let all the flavors work their way around my mouth. It wasn’t about efficiency or eating to be finished.

So wearing sleep shorts and a cami but no bra, Riley shirtless in his boxer briefs, I tried to appreciate the now and not the later. We weren’t going to have sex, not yet, not tonight. That was understood between both of us. So I relaxed, letting the tension I usually felt as I raced toward penetration fade away.

“I love your mouth,” he murmured. “Your lips are perfect.” His hand was on my chin and we were lying sideways, looking into each other’s eyes.

The waterbed had the smallest of a rock to it, allowing us to move together, his fingers drawing my leg over his hip. It was still creepy to me that we slept on a giant fluid-filled sac, but in moments like this, I could appreciate the motion of the ocean. I sighed, enjoying the ease with which we fit together, lips teasing and melding, my fingers splaying over his hard chest.

“I love your body,” I told him sincerely. “You’re so nice and hard everywhere.” I brushed over his nipple and enjoyed the sharp intake of breath he gave. Ah, the power. “I just wish I wasn’t groping Satan right now.”

“Think of it more like there’s a little devil inside all of us.”

“I wish there was a little devil inside of me,” I told him, teasing my fingertips lower to the waistband of his boxers.

He gave a soft laugh, nuzzling into my neck. “That wouldn’t be little then.”

“Of course not.” But truthfully, I didn’t actually mind that we weren’t going there. This was intimate, close, allowing us the time to tease and talk, and I was learning that I could be more aware of my body and my arousal than I had ever realized.

As Riley kissed me and rocked me on to him, I gave soft moans and realized that I trusted him. That’s what was different. I trusted his words, his feelings, his touch. That was actually a bigger turn-on than any porn star move guys had pulled with me. It wasn’t kinky, bold, or worthy of a scandalous bucket list, but it was more real than anything else I’d ever experienced.

And an hour later I discovered that I could come to orgasm just from kissing, clothes on, with nothing but whispered words of encouragement and a complete understanding of every inch of my body.

“Oh, God,” I breathed into his mouth, blinking in shock and wonder. “Riley . . .”

“Mm,” was his response. His tongue slid across my bottom lip as we cuddled. “Night, Pita.”

He sent me to sleep like that every night, though each time our fingers moved further into new territories, brushing over every inch we could with clothes still intact, and his lips started to stray down my shirt. By night four I was rocking onto him in nothing but my panties, my breasts pressing into his chest, my body alive and zinging, my heart full of a feeling I had never experienced before.

The first time his tongue touched my nipple, the first slide of a finger down into my panties, I felt like I had discovered something entirely new, that the simplest of touches could be the most electric, the most satisfying, when desire was so heightened.

I stroked him with fingers that trembled from my own hot need, goose bumps on my skin in the darkness of the narrow room, wanting to give him in return what he was giving to me. When I started to peel down his boxers, he didn’t object. It was the first time I’d seen him bare to me, his erection thick and throbbing beneath my touch. It was too dark to really see what he looked like, but I was learning his body by exploring every line, every muscle, every hair, and I did the same now, taking my time, from top to bottom, feeling, stroking, learning.

“Does it get your stamp of approval?” he asked.

Even though he said it in a teasing voice, I knew that it was an important question. Guys compared. They needed to know that they measured up, literally and figuratively.

“It’s perfect,” I told him honestly. I kissed the tip of his penis and then retreated, having learned how to do that from him. “You’re perfect.” I covered his mouth with my own and tried to show him with my lips how amazing I thought he was and how I had never been happier in my entire life than I was with him.

He groaned, gripping my hips hard, bringing my body into grinding contact with his dick. “Jess?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be okay with it if I fell in love with you?”

My heart squeezed and I paused, my mouth a hairbreadth from his, as I took in his words, as if I could breathe them into my mouth, my heart, my soul.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’d be very okay with it.”

It must have been the right answer, because without warning he flipped me onto my back and kissed down the front of me until suddenly he was kissing between my thighs and I was burying my head into the pillow as I cried out.

I wasn’t even naked, his mouth working me through cotton, yet I was more open to him than to any other guy I’d been with.

And I knew without any doubt that he was the guy.