Page 72 of Back in the Saddle

I was nervous AF.

And I couldn’t wait.

EIGHT

TEASE

Okay, I couldn’t do this.

I’d just pulled into the driveway of Eric’s sprawling ranch-style house in one of Phoenix’s toniest neighborhoods, and even if my outfit kicked ass, I was back to wondering if I was wrong about the signals, because friends could make pizza together and watch a movie.

But my outfit did not say friend.

With my newfound openness with my chicks, I wanted to text one of them for a quick pep talk.

But I was sitting in his double driveway, staring at his long-ass house, and it would’ve seemed weird if I sat there for ten minutes getting my shit sharp.

“Now or never, Wylde,” I muttered to myself, threw my door open, my leg out, and I grabbed the bottle, my black crossbody and exited the car.

I pulled the thin strap of the crossbody over my head and walked to the door, liking the color green it was painted when the rest of the house was a soft yellow with white trim, though the shutters on the windows were black.

I hit the doorbell, and I could understand why it took Eric a few beats to get to it, considering if he was in the back, it’d take a while to make it to the door.

I didn’t think the FBI paid for a pad this killer, so NI&S must remunerate really well.

The door opened, and I jolted because I was in my thoughts about his house, but also, he stood there wearing an untucked, white linen shirt that made the tan of his skin all the tanner, supremely faded jeans that hung on him just right, his feet were bare, and his black hair was messy, like he’d just gotten up from a nap.

A hot nap where he had hot dreams about doing nasty things to a hot chick, one like me.

“Hey,” I forced out, doing it while realizing his eyes were not on my face.

They were taking their sweet time traveling down my body.

They got to my shoes, the tip of his tongue came out to wet his lower lip, my vagina shuddered, and I kept forcing myself to speak.

“I brought wine. I hope you like red.”

His eyes sped up to mine, the look in them not one you’d ever give a little sister. My vagina pulsed a whole lot stronger, then I let out a squeak because his arm was around my waist, pulling me inside.

He had to do some lifting since there was a step up.

This he did.

It wasamazing.

All of it.

Then the door slammed, I was pressed against it, Eric was pressed against me, and that was so much more amazing, I forgot how to breathe.

“Those shorts and shoes,” he said in a thick voice that, yes, caused further reactions in my nether regions. “This mean I’m finally out of your friend zone?”

“I thought I was inyourfriend zone,” I whispered.

“I’m a good guy, honey, but I don’t pull out my mom’s recipe for mushroom sage stuffing for a woman I consider a friend.”

Oh man.

He made me his mom’s recipe.

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