Just One Night (Sex, Love & Stiletto 3)

It was wrong, and a mistake and every kind of fucked up, and yet all he could think was finally.

She let out a shaky little breath, and his tongue swept in as he tilted her head back, lips twisting, tongues tangling as he moved against her, pinning her more firmly against the door.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, and for a heart-wrenching moment he thought she’d push him away. But then her fingers dug into his shirt, tugging him closer.

It was like he was a teenager all over again, finally getting his hands on the hottest girl in school.

Only the hottest girl in school was his best friend’s baby sister, and he was sure to fail at this, just like he failed at everything.

He pulled back just enough to search her face.

Both of them were gasping, and her hand went to his face, her fingers lightly brushing his lower lip. “It’s about time.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “You know this is insane.”

Instead of responding, she gazed back at him smugly, looking a lot more sure about this—about them—than he was. “Well, Brent’s probably just now getting to the train station. I bet I can catch him.”

Sam growled and kissed her again, hard and fast.

She kissed him back, just as hot, before her hand went to his chest and pushed. “So you’re going to be the guy? You’re going to help me with my article? I’m not in a serious relationship, and I can’t just write about any old guy and make it personal …”

No.

Yes.

Just … hell.

“Why can’t you be a kindergarten teacher or something? Why do you have to be a goddamned sex writer?”

She smiled, her fingers lightly scratching his bare arms. He was more than a little tempted to take her right here and right now. But they were in a room with her father’s old radio and her mother’s nativity scene, and there was a fake Christmas tree one wrong move from digging into his ass.

“Riley—”

“Say yes, Sam,” she said, interrupting him. “Don’t make me do this with another guy.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers.

“Please,” she whispered. “I want it to be you.”

Shit.

It was one thing to deny himself all these years. It was no more or less than he deserved.

But to deny Riley?

He couldn’t. Had never been able to.

“We’re going to regret this,” he said when he opened his eyes and gazed at her.

Her eyes lit up at the implicit acquiescence in his words.

“Maybe,” she said softly. “But we’re going to have a lot of fun doing it.”

Chapter Eight

Normally a first date with a new guy called for girl talk.

For years, Riley had been counting on Julie and Grace to tell her if her emerald silk dress with the plunging neckline was too trampy for a first date (yes), or if her new boot-cut jeans were too casual for a fancy dinner at Per Se (also yes).