Just One Night: Sex, Love & Stiletto Series by Lauren Layne Read Free Book Online
Authors: Lauren Layne
gin-and-tonic-flavored lube.”
Riley carefully let her eyes go sleepy and her lips pouty before giving him a slow glance over her shoulder. “Intrigued, are we?”
But Sam Compton was immune to that look. Which was ironic, considering that he was the one who had inspired her to start practicing it back when she was seventeen and just beginning to understand the power of breasts and eyelashes.
And Sam wasn’t without some looks of his own. His eyes darkened just slightly before he gave her his trademark crooked grin. “Oh, I’ve been plenty intrigued. Some of your tips have proven to be
very
helpful in the bedroom.”
He didn’t bother to dodge Erin’s swat on the back of the head. “Sorry, ma’am, but you know I’m just supporting your middle daughter’s career endeavors.”
Erin gave him an arch look but didn’t rant at him the way she would have at her own sons. “Did you bring the stuff?” Riley’s mom asked Sam, returning to her cooking duties.
“Yup. You sure about this? Does Josh know?”
Riley’s mother waved this away. “He’ll drink it. He’s always been more flexible with international drink than international eats.”
“What are we talking about here?” Riley asked, desperate for a topic to distract her from thinking about Sam in bed. With other women. Between her mother’s presence and his mentioning other bedmates, now didn’t quite seem the right time to ask if she could see himnaked and then write about it.
“Margaritas, baby,” Sam said, coming up alongside her, resting his forearms on the counter and leaning in to see the dinner spread. If he noticed the potatoes, he didn’t say a word.
“Margaritas?” Riley said. “Holy crap, Ma, you’re going all out.”
Erin gave a smug little smile and jerked her chin in the direction of the driveway. “Go help Sam get the stuff. You two can mix a pitcher.”
“I’m sure a big strong man like Sam can carry a little tequila bottle by himself,” Riley said, giving him a cartoon flutter of her lashes.
He fluttered right back. “Yes, but then there’s the Cointreau and the coarse salt, and the limes that went rogue all over the back of my truck. Maybe you can just tuck those between
your
limes to keep shit perky …”
Riley looked at her mother and pointed at Sam. “Ma, you hearing this?”
“Do I hear my son’s best friend talking about my daughter’s breasts? No, I do not. But I
could
use a drink all the same, so hurry along now.”
“These are bigger than limes,” Riley muttered as she slid reluctantly from the stool and checked out her boobs. He didn’t bother to respond. Wasn’t even interested.
She trailed after Sam toward his truck. One didn’t need a car in the Brooklyn neighborhood where they’d grown up. She and Sam had both lived close enough to the F and G subway line that there was no need.
But a couple of years earlier, after Sam had decided that corporate life wasn’t for him, he’d gone and bought himself a distillery up in Greenpoint. Which meant that there was always a barrel of whisky riding around as Sam’s companion.
She just wished it was his
only
companion. Riley picked up a pale pink cardigan off the bench seat of the truck. “Doesn’t this make you look sallow?”
“Angela’s,” he said by way of response. “Get the limes and quit snooping.”
Riley sighed and began retrieving the limes that had rolled every which way in the truck. But only because she really,
really
needed that margarita. “You know, at the grocery store, they often have these clear plastic things … what are they called … oh right,
bags
. I’m not sure, but I
think
you can put fruit in there to avoid adventures like these.”
He grabbed at a lime that was under her hip, wrestling it free and tossing it in front of her face before snatching it and giving her a quick grin. “And who’d want to avoid adventures likethese?”
Riley’s breath caught just a little when they made eye contact. It was
Riley carefully let her eyes go sleepy and her lips pouty before giving him a slow glance over her shoulder. “Intrigued, are we?”
But Sam Compton was immune to that look. Which was ironic, considering that he was the one who had inspired her to start practicing it back when she was seventeen and just beginning to understand the power of breasts and eyelashes.
And Sam wasn’t without some looks of his own. His eyes darkened just slightly before he gave her his trademark crooked grin. “Oh, I’ve been plenty intrigued. Some of your tips have proven to be
very
helpful in the bedroom.”
He didn’t bother to dodge Erin’s swat on the back of the head. “Sorry, ma’am, but you know I’m just supporting your middle daughter’s career endeavors.”
Erin gave him an arch look but didn’t rant at him the way she would have at her own sons. “Did you bring the stuff?” Riley’s mom asked Sam, returning to her cooking duties.
“Yup. You sure about this? Does Josh know?”
Riley’s mother waved this away. “He’ll drink it. He’s always been more flexible with international drink than international eats.”
“What are we talking about here?” Riley asked, desperate for a topic to distract her from thinking about Sam in bed. With other women. Between her mother’s presence and his mentioning other bedmates, now didn’t quite seem the right time to ask if she could see himnaked and then write about it.
“Margaritas, baby,” Sam said, coming up alongside her, resting his forearms on the counter and leaning in to see the dinner spread. If he noticed the potatoes, he didn’t say a word.
“Margaritas?” Riley said. “Holy crap, Ma, you’re going all out.”
Erin gave a smug little smile and jerked her chin in the direction of the driveway. “Go help Sam get the stuff. You two can mix a pitcher.”
“I’m sure a big strong man like Sam can carry a little tequila bottle by himself,” Riley said, giving him a cartoon flutter of her lashes.
He fluttered right back. “Yes, but then there’s the Cointreau and the coarse salt, and the limes that went rogue all over the back of my truck. Maybe you can just tuck those between
your
limes to keep shit perky …”
Riley looked at her mother and pointed at Sam. “Ma, you hearing this?”
“Do I hear my son’s best friend talking about my daughter’s breasts? No, I do not. But I
could
use a drink all the same, so hurry along now.”
“These are bigger than limes,” Riley muttered as she slid reluctantly from the stool and checked out her boobs. He didn’t bother to respond. Wasn’t even interested.
She trailed after Sam toward his truck. One didn’t need a car in the Brooklyn neighborhood where they’d grown up. She and Sam had both lived close enough to the F and G subway line that there was no need.
But a couple of years earlier, after Sam had decided that corporate life wasn’t for him, he’d gone and bought himself a distillery up in Greenpoint. Which meant that there was always a barrel of whisky riding around as Sam’s companion.
She just wished it was his
only
companion. Riley picked up a pale pink cardigan off the bench seat of the truck. “Doesn’t this make you look sallow?”
“Angela’s,” he said by way of response. “Get the limes and quit snooping.”
Riley sighed and began retrieving the limes that had rolled every which way in the truck. But only because she really,
really
needed that margarita. “You know, at the grocery store, they often have these clear plastic things … what are they called … oh right,
bags
. I’m not sure, but I
think
you can put fruit in there to avoid adventures like these.”
He grabbed at a lime that was under her hip, wrestling it free and tossing it in front of her face before snatching it and giving her a quick grin. “And who’d want to avoid adventures likethese?”
Riley’s breath caught just a little when they made eye contact. It was