Just A Little Bit ✔️

13. Kinley

Kinley Price, In Real Life

I wake up in bed with Riley.

My eyes open to a quiet hotel room, gray with the early morning sun. I'm curled into his chest, a leg thrown over his, his arms around me. He's shirtless, in nothing but his tight boxer-briefs. He sleeps on, oblivious to the way I stare at him.

I run a finger along his chest, following each tattoo. There's so much ink, telling a story only he knows. He's beautiful, but he knows it. He can get any girl he wants in a heartbeat.

Green eyes closed. Eyelashes dancing on his cheeks. A breath escapes those lips I spent hours kissing. He's probably going to have a hangover, so I'm not eager to get him up. I don't want to ruin the moment while we have it.

We're in San Francisco, blanketed by fog at this hour. Last night, we played a great concert. After our interview with Late Night Chats, we were in a rush to get to the airport and make it here on time.

We sang. We played.

We partied.

I came as soon as he texted. I want to pretend I have more willpower, but when it comes to him, I have no control. In minutes, I was at his door. The next thing I knew, I was on my back and he was inside me and I swear he wrecked me.

I untangle myself from him carefully, knowing I have to shower before we drive up to Portland. It's going to be a long car ride, and I don't need to spend it looking like I just had sex.

I mean, I did, but I have some dignity.

In the bathroom mirror, I see a woman with messy hair, a hickey on her collarbone, and a black t-shirt that doesn't fit her covering her frame. It occurs to me that I can't find my underwear. He probably threw them somewhere, lost in the mess of condom wrappers.

I climb into the steaming water and splash some on my face, hoping to wake myself up more. We were up late last night, and my head is heavy with resentment.

Riley is a bad influence. That much is clear.

As I'm washing my hair, the curtain pulls back to reveal the very same man I was thinking about. He steps in with a mischievous smirk, his gaze taunting me.

"You didn't wait for me, love?" he asks.

Guiltily, I step back. It's not a very big shower, so I trapped myself against the tile. He comes closer, both of us standing under the waterfall now. His lips meet mine, teasing as he brushes our mouths together.

"We have to be downstairs in twenty minutes," he says, his hand sliding up between my thighs.

I'm shaking already, clutching his shoulders as he runs his index finger along my core.

"Riley," I murmur. "What are you—"

He silences me with a kiss, stealing all of my air in one gesture. I fall into him, surrendering as his tongue tastes mine, warm and inviting. His teeth bite down on my lower lip, and the feel of it is intoxicating.

When he pulls back, the question is in his eyes before he asks.

"Yes," I whisper. "Yes."

He looks so relieved at my confirmation. He shivers, and I feel how much he wants me in the way our bodies press together.

With no barriers, nothing except us, he takes me.

🎵🎵🎵

You'd be surprised by how lowkey Faraway Blues is. I know people expect they're the types to get dinner at fancy restaurants all the time and never settle for fast food. Strangely enough, it seems they have a penchant for McDonald's.