More Than Enough (More Than Series, Book 5) (52 page)

I won’t tell her.

She won’t ask.

Her gaze stays on mine for a long moment while silence fills the yard. Then her eyes drift shut, her chest rising with her intake of breath. Her cheeks puff with the force of her exhale and a second later, it’s over.

Dad clears his throat and all eyes go to him. He raises the beer in his hand. “I uh, I wanted to make a toast to my son.” He waves his hand toward me. “Dylan. Who, we all know. Obviously.” He rubs the back of his neck while Riley squeezes mine. “I’m bad at this so I’ll make it quick…” He looks down at his feet and takes a breath. Then rubs his eyes before looking back up. “I’m so damn proud of you, son. We all are. And I’m glad you’re home safe and now I’m ramblin’ so here,” he says, reaching into his pocket and throwing something at me. I catch it. Ford keys.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking from the keys to him.

“Well, you were deployed on your twenty-first birthday so it’s a little late, but it’s parked out front.”

“You got me a car?” I almost shout.

“You got him a car?” Eric repeats. “Man, I was deployed on my twenty-first and all I got was a damn card with a giraffe on it!”

I practically push Riley off my lap. The guys laugh. “If this is a joke—”

“No joke. And a truck. Not a car. Go check it out!” Dad says.

Eric whines, “A
giraffe
! What did that even mean?”

Dad didn’t just
get me any old truck. He got me my dream truck. The one I’d wanted when I’d turned sixteen but wasn’t able to afford. A black 2005 Ford F150 dual cab.

“Holy shit.” I open Riley’s side first so she can get in and then run to the driver’s side. I slip in the key, turn it and then I don’t really know what happens but I’m pretty sure it’s sexual considering everything that goes on in my pants.

I turn to Riley. “Did you know?”

She nods. “He’s been looking since the accident.”

“A giraffe!” Eric shouts.

“So?” Riley says. “Shall we?”

“Right now? What about—”

“My mom’s going to help clean up. It’ll be clear by the time we come home.”

“Home?”

She nods again, scooting across the seat until she’s next to me and my hand instantly goes to her leg. “
Our
home.”

“And your mom’s okay with us moving out?” I ask, glancing at Holly standing next to Dr. Matthews.

“Yeah. She supports us no matter what.”

My smile matches hers. “So where to?” I put the car in gear.

“Where else?”

“Horizon, it is.”

It’s two in
the morning by the time we get home from the drive. And five in the morning when I find myself inhaling deeply, blinking at the reflection in the shattered mirror and wondering why… why the hell would he come to me now? After one of the best days of my life, why fucking haunt me now? It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him. Not since I spent the entire night bleeding my heart out to Holly.

I thought it was over.

I was wrong.

His words replay in my head. “
I fucking failed, Dylan!
” Over and over.

“Babe?” Riley says, sitting up in the bed. “You okay?”

My shoulders tense. So does my jaw. “I’m fine.”

Her hand skims across my side of the bed. She’ll feel the sweat. It’s impossible not to.

I sigh, looking back in the mirror before running the tap and splashing water on my face.

“Are you hot?” Riley asks, now walking toward me. “I can turn the air up.” She grabs a face cloth and sits on the counter next to my arm, then runs it under the cold water.

Her eyes are tired, just like mine.

She wipes the cloth across my forehead, down my neck and onto my shoulders while I breathe through the visions.

“Did you have a bad dream?” she whispers, the towel on my chest now. “I’m sorry,” she adds. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Behind the fatigue, I see the determination in her eyes, the need to make me better somehow.

And I remember the messages from Dave—her promise to take care of me. So I swallow my pride, and I give her what she needs. What she deserves. “Yeah, Ry. I did. And I can’t get back to sleep now.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Okay,” she squeaks, sitting up higher. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to make you some… I don’t know… warm milk or something? That used to help me when I had nightmares. I know it’s not the same—”

I shift to the side, cutting her off, and place my hands on the counter either side of her. Tilting my head, I ask, “Warm milk?”

She nods quickly. Then, somehow, her eyes get even wider. “Oh, I know!” She raises her finger between us. “Wait here, okay?” She’s smiling. I don’t know why she’s smiling but I love her smile and her need to resolve my pain makes me love her more.

She shoves my chest gently, moving me out the way. “Just wait,” she rushes out, her bare legs moving quickly as she exits the room.

She takes the pillows from the bed, as well as all of the blankets and takes them somewhere out of my vision. Doors open. Doors close. Her feet shuffle across the floor moving around the house. And I wait in the bathroom like she told me to.

“Okay,” she calls out. “You can come out now.”

With heavy steps, I walk out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. She’s sitting against the wall between both rooms, blankets and cushions surrounding her. She taps her lap, her smile soft when she says, “Lie down. Head here.”

My grin is instant. So is the overwhelming calm that washes over me. I lie down on my back, my head on her lap, her hands in my hair as she continues to smile down at me. “Remember this?” she asks.

My eyes drift shut. “I’ll never forget this.”

“You said you liked it.”

“I do.”

“You almost fell asleep when I did it so I thought…”

“You take such good care of me, Ry,” I tell her honestly.

“Really?”

“Swear.”

Her smile widens.

“Tell me something, Riley.”

“Something?”

“Anything. I love your voice. It’s the thing I missed the most while I was deployed. I mean, besides your body. And your cooking.”

She laughs quietly. “So Mom has a date with Dr. Matthews tomorrow. Or tonight, I should say.”

“No shit?”

“Yep. She’s really nervous.”

“Believe me,” I tell her. “He’s worse. I’m surprised he had the balls to ask her.”

“He didn’t. She asked him.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Oh! And apparently when we were gone Eric wouldn’t shut up about you getting a truck and him getting a card so your dad called him out and told everyone that he started wetting the bed again when you were born. He kept thinking you would crawl into his room at night and stab him in his sleep.”

I sit up slightly. “Shut up!”

She draws a cross on her chest. “Swear it. He used to call you Devil Baby.”

“No way.”

Riley nods. “So I was thinking we go over there and find a photo of you as a baby and make a cardboard mask that you can wear when you sneak into his room one night with a fake knife and just chant—” her voice deepens, “—Devil baby! Devil baby!”

I sit up completely, pushing her hands away. “Riley.”

“What?” she asks, her hands mid air.

“How the fuck did I land you?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re kind of hot, Banks. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

She shrugs and pats her lap again.

I lie back down.

With a single finger, she starts to trace around all of my features, her eyes locked on mine. “You know when we did this the first time…” She runs her finger across my lips. “I noticed your smile.”

I kiss her finger. “My smile?”

“Yeah. It tilts higher on the right than the left.”

“It does?”

She nods.

I get more comfortable. “All I remember was wanting to kiss you. Bad.
Really
fucking bad.”

“I know. You asked me if I wanted you to,” she says, her voice low.

“And you lied,” I tell her.

She nods. “I was so scared.”

“I know.”

“I’m not scared of you anymore, Dylan.”

Momentarily, I wonder if she means being with me or me in general. Then I realize I don’t care. “No?”

“Not at all,” she says, shaking her head. Then she smiles. “Hey Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to kiss you right now?”

“Hudson. I want you to more than fucking kiss me right now.”

She giggles. “Oh yeah?”

“You know what I saw when I came home tonight?”

She leans back, her brows bunched. “What?”

“You left the flat iron on.”

Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens. Nothing comes out.

I arch an eyebrow. “You know what that means?”

She starts to undo the buttons of her shirt.

Ten minutes later, we’re naked, rolling around on the floor surrounded by cushions. Our hands, our mouths, our tongues exploring every single inch of each other’s bodies. A few minutes after that, she’s on top of me, her hands flat on my stomach, her hips thrusting, moving me in and out of her. She’s so warm, so wet, so damn perfect. Her back arches, her head tilted back causing her loose hair to tickle my thighs. “Dylan, I’m so fucking close,” she whispers, her movements getting faster.

I sit up and flip us until she’s beneath me, just like I know she likes. I start to move, pushing in and out of her while her nails scratch my back, her legs wrapped around mine and her back arching off the floor, her hips meeting mine. My mouth dips to her neck, kissing softly as I make my way up to her ear. Our bodies covered in sweat, moving as one.

“Oh fuck,” she breathes. She’s close, but not close enough. “Dylan.”

I bite down on her ear and push into her.

“Fuck,” she moans, her head falling back. I push off one hand, the other on her cheek. She moves her head to the side, taking my thumb in her mouth, her eyes on mine, filled with lust. “I fucking love being inside you,” I tell her. She moans, her mouth opening just enough for me to remove my thumb and move it down her body. I thumb her clit, watching her eyes roll back. She moans louder. “Your pussy feels so fucking good, baby.”

“Oh fuck!” She bites down on my shoulder, muffling her cry of pleasure. She comes around me, and a second a later, I join her.

“
You lucky fucking bastard,”
Dave says.

“I know,” I mumble.

“Know what?” she breathes.

I settle my breaths enough to pull back. Leaning up on my forearm, I move the hair stuck to her brow so I can see her eyes. “How fucking lucky I am.”

Dylan

H
ere’s the thing
about love, I’ve come to realize. It’s just like time. The word, the term of endearment—it’s the same for everyone. For friends, family, the person you intend to spend the rest of your life with—the “bones” of adoration are comparable. You do what you can to make the people you love happy… to make their wishes come true.

But what you do with that love—how you let it wrap itself around you and control your actions—that’s what makes it unique.

And my actions will always, always, speak louder than my words.

*     *     *

It didn’t take
long for the guys to come up with a retaliation. A week after my homecoming party, I woke up for work at the construction site and like any other day, I walked into the garage. There, right on top of my truck, was a giant Play-Doh cock covered in glitter. Balls on the cab, shaft running down the bed and onto the ground, through the garage door and all the way down the driveway, ending on the road. If that hadn’t been bad enough, they’d hooked up the hose somewhere inside the t-rex sized dick and had water coming out of the head and spilling out onto the road.

Well played, boys.

Well fucking played.

So, I had to come up with something better. Something bigger. Which was hard because I needed to make sure they’d all be at the same place at the same time.

That was the third item on the agenda for today.

The first was to get supplies.

The second would determine the third.

The second was also the most important moment of my life.

I grasp Riley’s
hand as we walk with the pretense of heading home after the hardware store. I ordered what I pretended were my retaliation supplies and told them I’d pick them up another day. Truth is I didn’t need any of it. I just needed a reason to get Riley out of the house. To this part of town. To this particular strip of shops.

I squeeze her hand tighter and lead her to the store with a glass door—the same glass door I’d walked through yesterday. She’s too distracted on her phone, texting Sydney about the details of the next slumber party. Sydney is part of the plan for the second part of my agenda.

I open the door, heart racing, palms sweaty.

And then I stop in the middle of the store, waiting for Riley to come to.

When she must realize I’ve stopped, she looks up from her phone—first at me and then to our surroundings. Her eyes narrow. “What are we doing?”

She’s clueless, just for a moment, before it hits her. And when it does, her eyes widen and her breath catches and even though I should probably feel the walls closing in and my breath leaving me, I feel none of it. I feel calm. The type of calm I can only find in her. “What are we doing?” she repeats, her voice softer.