Page 16 of Solitary Man

I hated that. This wasn’t some deal. She was my wife.

I couldn’t have messed this whole thing up more if I’d tried. “Riley…”

“Sorry, when I write I can get caught up and lose track of time. And honestly, since I haven’t seen you in days, I didn’t think... I’ll make something now, while you clean up.”

She wasn’t looking at me. Why wasn’t she looking at me. “Riley?”

But she was already striding back toward the house, shoulders stiff, chin high, and even with my total lack of experience with people, I didn’t miss she was angry. Maybe even hurt.

Her round bottom twitched in her jeans as she walked up the steps and into the house, and I cursed loudly. I hadn’t thought this through, any of it. Only about myself. My comfort. My feelings. I’d wanted someone to look after me, keep me company. Someone to share my nights with, to slake this burning lust inside me that…hell, that had started to scare me.

I hadn’t thought about her.

Never about how she’d feel.

I was a selfish bastard.

Riley had feelings and emotions. I’d come all over her hand three nights ago, then avoided her. And when I’d finally seen her again properly, to talk to her, I’d demanded she cook me dinner.

If my cousins Beau and Hank were here, they’d be shaking their heads at me for acting like an idiot.

I started back toward the house, not knowing what to do or say. I wasn’t used to talking, let alone soothing a woman’s hurt feelings. She had a good reason to be angry at me, and I got the feeling I’d make her angry again over the next few months, since I was a goddamn clueless idiot.

If she stayed that long.

The ache in my chest increased.

I walked into the kitchen. Riley was chopping carrots. Loudly.

“Riley?”

“I’ll be as quick as I can, Cash. And sorry, no chocolate cake tonight.”

Yep, she was angry. No, furious. I frowned. “Cake?”

“It is your favorite, right? It was remiss of me not to have made you one by now. Please accept my apologies.”

I frowned harder. When had I mentioned chocolate cake being my favorite?

I shook away that thought. She sounded different. Her voice was sharper. And I may be clueless and miss a lot, but I knew what sarcasm was. How could I not with Beau as a cousin? I’d screwed up. Badly. I’d been around my cousins and their wives enough to know when a woman was upset.

I remembered the sounds she made when I used my finger on her clit, when she came for me. She’d been happy then. She’d clung to me, snuggled closer. She’d liked that, too, snuggling. She’d stayed pressed up to me like that all night, had done it every night since, even if she was asleep. She’d smiled at me as well.

Would that make her happy again now? My gaze dropped to her round bottom, the way the denim hugged tight, the way the seam skated between her rounded cheeks, down farther, curving around between her thighs, along her pussy, and I licked my lips.

Would she like it if I used my mouth on her there? I’d seen it in movies, read about it in books. My mouth started to water. Or would she be disgusted?

She opened one of the cupboards under the sink, bending over and pulling out a pot.

“I know what I want…for dinner.” My face exploded with heat. Had I actually said that out loud?

She turned to me, eyes flashing, a look on her face my mom had aimed at my dad many times when he’d said something stupid…but then Riley stilled as her gaze moved over my face, when she looked into my eyes.

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked, and her voice had gone husky.

My gaze dropped to the juncture of her thighs before I could stop myself, and I didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath.

Idiot.