Page 38 of Running Risk

RYLEE: NOW

Tossing my Kindle on the left side of my bed, I reach for my phone.

It’s already ten at night, and I know Clayton goes to sleep early since he’s always up at the crack of dawn.

But tomorrow is Saturday, so he has no reason to be up, not work-related anyway.

I enjoyed hanging out with him this week.

I mean, he helped me clean up all the water, but afterward, that was memorable.

Unfortunately, not as memorable as I hoped.

No matter how much I wanted to stay up all night rolling around in the sheets, I unfortunately fell asleep on the couch after I had a full stomach.

I could kick myself, but I’m hoping I will be able to fix my mistake.

I’m having fun with this benefits arrangement we have going, but he keeps saying things that make me think it’s more.

I’m scared to want anything with him. I find him attractive, but I can’t have anything beyond this arrangement.

He already hurt me once, and I can’t go through that again.

But I do like hanging out with him, and the added physical benefits only make me want more.

Me:

You up?

I toss the phone next to my Kindle, startling Socks, and she stretches her legs and digs her nails into me. I shove her legs when my phone pings.

Clayton:

Barely.

I tap my fingers on the back of my phone, working up the nerve to ask him. I want to come over, but maybe it would be a good idea to come up with a reason to see him instead of, “I want to.”

Me:

What are you doing tomorrow? Want to lay brick?

I was able to finish the demo in the kitchen, and I got all the cabinets set. The next step would be the brick flooring. It would be nice to have an extra set of hands; not necessary, but nice. It’s a bonus that it would mean seeing him again.

Clayton:

You want to put me to work?

Me:

If I ask really nicely, would you?

Clayton:

That depends. What are you wearing?

My jaw drops as I read his message. It’s so unlike him, but it also makes my heart flutter, knowing he wants these more intimate details.

I peer down at myself and groan at my worn, X-large T-shirt covering my cotton, purple underwear, and purple fuzzy socks.

I could put on something different, but whenever he comes and I’m in my casual pajamas, he can’t keep his eyes off me.

That’s one reason I never changed after the water fiasco.

It felt good to be desired, especially when I wasn’t even trying to impress him. I was being myself.

Me:

Maybe you should come find out.

Clayton:

I would, but Avery made me go out after work. He dropped me off a little bit ago because I had too much to drink.

Me:

Oh, a drunk Clayton. No wonder you’re sending more than two-word text messages.

I wiggle back into my pillows and watch the three little dots appear. A smile crosses my lips, thinking about a drunk Clay. I wish I could see it.

Clayton:

It’s probably for the best you don’t tell me. I don’t think I have much self-control to stay away from you if you did tell me what sexy clothes you’re wearing.

I laugh, making Socks’s ears perk.

Me:

How do you know it’s sexy?

I bite my lip, waiting for his reply.

Clayton:

Anything you wear is sexy .

My heart leaps in my chest, and I fling off my covers and jump out of bed.

Stuffing my fuzzy socked feet in a pair of boots, I jump in my truck and drive down the road.

My hair is a mop on top of my head like always, but I need his hands on me.

In less than fifteen minutes, I pull into Clayton’s driveway after making an awkward phone call to Avery, asking where Clayton lives.

It’s a small gray house on five acres. I’ve never been here, but it feels like him.

There are wood piles stacked by his barn and trails from the woods leading to the open area around the house.

His truck’s parked by his back door, and one window is lit up, which I would guess is his bedroom.

The rest of the house is dark as the night sky without the moon and stars.

The spontaneous, turned-on feeling seems to be dissolving, nerves replacing it the closer I get to the house.

Turning off my truck, I take a deep breath and get out.

Once I’m at the front door, I rap my knuckles on the worn wood and wait.

He unlocks the bolt on his door, and I am not prepared for how he comes to the door.

His shaggy hair is messy, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants that hang off his hips.

His bare chest begs me to run my fingers down to create a trail of goosebumps.

“Ry?” His husky voice makes my knees weak while his eyes slowly scan my body, darkening with every inch he sees.

The way he was texting and especially the way he’s looking at me is making it really hard for me to remember our “only benefits” deal. He has to remember it, just as much as I need to say it, so it’s clear this can’t be more. I won’t let it become more.

“You can’t text me things like that.” I lift my chin.

He takes a small step toward me. “No?”

I don’t move, not wanting him to see the effect he has on me. But damn, it’s hard, and I press my legs together because just the look of him has me wanting him. “No. It’s not appropriate,” I say, but I want to kick myself when my voice slightly falters .

He continues stepping closer until his fingers pinch the front of my shirt at my thighs. “Why?”

“B—because it makes me feel things.” My voice barely above a whisper.

He nods as his hands slide under my shirt, gripping my hips.

“I want to make you feel things.” His fingers press harder into me and pull me forward, and I fall into him.

My hands land on his chest, and I get lost in his deep brown eyes, leaning into him more.

His mouth lowers, making his nose trail mine, and his lips hover just out of reach.

“I want to make you feel everything when you’re with me.

” His lips touch mine as he grips the back of my thighs, picks me up, and walks back into the house, kicking the door closed behind him.

For someone who doesn’t say much, he has me swooning at his words.

I want to feel everything, and when I’m with him, I feel amazing.

It’s one reason I came straight here. His lips are always demanding like he knows and will take exactly what he wants, and I can’t help but give it to him.

I melt in his arms at the way he acts like I’m as light as a feather.

It’s dark, but he maneuvers effortlessly in the house until he gets to his bedroom.

I break our kiss to look around. There’s a large wooden bed between two windows on the opposite side of the room.

He has a black dresser across from it with a TV mounted above.

The lamp on his nightstand is on, and a book is open on his bed.

The room is simple with no clutter, exactly what I expected his room to be.

He slowly puts me down, and I reach up, placing a kiss on his lips.

It’s something I never thought would feel so natural.

I walk around his room, tracing my fingers along the edge of the dresser, then along the bed.

I always found peace in his bedroom growing up, and now it feels like a place where I can be free.

I’ve always been able to be myself around him, and even with all our issues, I know I never have to hide who I truly am when I’m around him.

He remains by the door, and his eyes watch my every move.

The way he’s looking at me only ignites something inside me that has been dimmed for so long.

I’m sexy, desirable, and wanted when I’m with him.

Three things I haven’t felt in a very long time.

I don’t want to waste time making small talk or acting like I didn’t come here for one thing.

Turning to face him, I kick off my boots along with my socks.

Grabbing the edge of my shirt, I pull it over my head and shimmy my underwear down my legs.

I swear his body is as tight as a bow string, like he’s waiting for me to make the first move.

All I do is take a step toward him. And that was the move he seemed to be waiting for because he takes two long strides to stand in front of me, grabbing my hips to pull me closer.

My heart pounds in my chest, having his hands on my bare skin.

He kisses me long and slow as his hands trail up and down my body.

His fingertips skim up my legs and up my sides to my back.

It feels like he’s everywhere but it still isn’t enough.

I want him to consume me, so I forget what issues lie between us.

I immediately fidget with his sweatpants, pushing them down his hips along with his boxers.

He kicks them off and twirls me around, pushing my shoulders onto the bed.

Holy hell. There’s nothing I love more than when a man’s in charge, and he acts like I am the only thing he wants in the world.

My ass sticks in the air, and he smacks it. I whimper at the contact.

“I love your sexy ass.” His sultry voice echoes through my ear.

God, I’ve never had a man take so much control, and now I want him more.

Peering over my shoulder, I wiggle my hips, making a groan escape his lips.

The dim light casts shadows across his body, and he looks sexy as hell standing behind me.

The scars on his body show how much he’s fought in his life and how much he’s been through.

His fingers rake down my back before rubbing my ass again.

He’s never been much of a talker, but I can feel how much he wants me when his dick presses against my thigh.

Reaching over, he opens his nightstand and pulls out a condom.

He rips it open and rolls it on before trailing his fingers down my center.

I gasp as my body shudders. His hand traces down my leg and lifts it onto the bed so I’m on my knee.

I let my other follow, and I swear, a growl escapes his throat once I’m kneeling in front of him.

As the tip of his dick rubs against me, I press my face into his bed, clutching the comforter in my hands.

I want my hands on him, but his bed is all I can reach while I wait for his next move.

There aren’t many positions where you feel this vulnerable, but I don’t hesitate as I allow him full control.

His hands grip my hips, and the world slows as he thrusts into me.

There are no neighbors, so I don’t have to be careful as I cry out with pleasure.

I have never wanted a man more than I want Clayton, and he keeps showing me how much he wants me.

He pulls out achingly slow before pushing into me again.

I gasp, arching off the bed. I wiggle my hips as his hand trails from my hip, down to my center, touching my clit, and I bury my face back into the bed.

His chuckle vibrates through me. His warm skin rubs against me as he leans over and nips my ear.

His body hovers above mine as his lips press against my neck, and I moan, feeling his lips kiss their way down my neck.

His finger torturously rubs my clit in time with his thrusts.

I have never wanted to cry out in pleasure so hard in my life.

It’s like he knows what I want, and I don’t have to say anything.

He will give me everything and then some.

His pace quickens, and I press further into his hand.

“Come for me, Ry,” his voice echoes into my ear, triggering my orgasm.

My eyes pinch close as my breathing stops, feeling like my body cries with relief as every wave of pleasure crashes into me.

He gently rolls me over, looking into my eyes as he tucks my hair behind my ear and out of my face.

His face is so handsome, and I could never get enough of seeing him like this.

He kisses me, and it’s not rushed or hungry.

It feels like he has all the time in the world, and this is what he wants to do.

My body sings with the feelings, knowing he wants me.

When he pulls away, he says, “God, you’re perfect. ”

I blink in surprise. The look he’s giving me is one that can only be described as adoration, but this is supposed to be fun and nothing serious.

But the more time I spend with him, especially having sex, the line’s getting more blurred by the minute.

We agreed it would be casual, but it’s starting to feel like it’s not.

I know I can’t trust him. He has proven in the past that I can’t trust him, so why’s he looking at me like I hung the damn moon?

Why do I want him to look at me like that?

Why does he keep saying things that make this hard for me not to think of this as anything more than what it should be?

He leans in closer, and before I know it, I press my hand into his chest, stopping him. “I have to go.”