Page 64 of Not That Ridiculous

“It’s not that much,” Griffin said. “Probably only one load, two max. Tip closes at half five anyway.”

“Right. Back by half six. Sounds good.”

“Thanks, mate, I appreciate it. Next game, I’m getting the beers in. See you later. Bye, Charlie.”

“Griffin.”

He jogged off.

I returned my attention to Kevin. “Front door?”

Not to be crude about it or anything, but I’d got the impression that Kevin was more interested in my back door.

He gave me a cute little yikes-face.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s that for?” I demanded.

“Okay. You can’t get mad.”

“I assure you I can. I very often do. Not with you, but I’m sensing that today we’re going to be exploring new territory—oh.”

He caught my chin and lifted it as he ducked down to press a quick, fierce kiss on my lips.

“Yeah,” he said. “Gonna explore you all over.”

“That’s…that’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?”

I wasn’t buying his innocent act anymore these days.

I was starting to think that Kevin Wallis was a bit of a fraud, actually.

I was starting to think that half the time he came across as sweetly innocent, the little shit was manipulating his way into getting what he wanted. Or no, not manipulating. He wasn’t sly. He was simply…implacable. That word was a better fit.

He saw the path ahead and he would not be swayed.

“No,” I said. “Why can’t I get mad?”

“I bought you a door.”

“A…? You bought me a door?”

“Yes.”

I put two and two together. It was difficult to do, pasted up against my car by big, hot, sweaty Kevin who’d just kissed me so hard my lips stung, but I managed. “I’m guessing it’s a front door?”

“Yes.” Kevin picked my wrist up again and checked my watch. “In fact, it’ll be delivered any minute. We’d best get on.” He pushed away from the car, rounded the front, and climbed into my passenger seat.

He was like a juggernaut, wasn’t he?

I opened the driver’s side door and got in.

Kevin was all buckled up, looking expectantly out of the window. His backpack was in the footwell between his feet, and he’d pulled his phone out. It was the largest iPhone model on the market—practically an iPad—and it was in a protective case with a steampunk design of clockwork gears, pipes and cogs in copper and steel. He unlocked it and checked his messages. “Yep,” he said. “My mate Ali will be there to drop it off in half an hour.”

I’d started up the car, but I switched it off and turned to look at him.

“Half an hour,” he said again, and slapped my thigh. “Let’s go. Oh. Mmm.” He curled his hand around my thigh and seemed to get distracted, going by the soft hum as he slid it right up to my groin. He checked my face, grinned, and palmed my dick.

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