Page 170 of The Vacation Mix-Up

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“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”

Heat blooms in my core, so I clench his hips with my thighs, scrape my nails along his back, and hold him tight as he pistons my body, over and over until my orgasm rockets through me, stars, lights, angels—I’m not sure what—bursting behind myeyelids, my muscles tightening around him, underneath him, and with him.

“Yes! Peanut butter. Yes!” I cry out.

Riley spears me deeply, long and sharp, his body stiff as a guttural groan rips from his throat. I capture his mouth, our tongues once again frenzied until they lose the ability to move, our breathing heavy, our limbs limp.

Panting, he drags his lips to my cheek, forehead, nose, and then my mouth again, peppering me with soft kisses, his eyes arduous but alight, the corners crinkling. “Did you just say ‘peanut butter’ while I made you come?”

I blink all the blinks. “What?”

“You screamed ‘peanut butter.’”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

I burst into laughter and cover my face with my hands. “Oh my God! I did, didn’t I?”

“Not gonna lie, I’ve never heard that before.”

Peeking through my spread fingers, I push through my embarrassment and explain. “I’m not allowed to say mothereffer.”

“Motherfucker?”

“Yeah. Peanut butter.”

He stares at me.

I scrunch my face. “Mom hated it.”

Dropping his head, his shoulders quake as he laughs. “I think I’m speechless.”

“You?” I giggle. “Speechless?”

“Yes. It doesn’t happen often, but that… this… you, you’ve stripped me of words.”

I trail my hands up and down his arms. “I’m good at stripping words.”

Muttering, “Peanut butter,” he rolls off me and onto the bed before tucking me into his side, both of us sated and soothed with the gentle rocking of the ship, my arm over his sweat-dampened chest, his finger drawing lazy circles on myshoulder.

“That’s actually quite cute, Riles.”

“It’s not. It’s habit.”

“A cute habit.”

“Shut up. I thought you were speechless.”

“I was. Not anymore.”

“Shh.”

He chuckles. “I thought maybe you were hungry.”

“After that,” I say, looking up at him, “I am.”

“What do you want for dinner?”

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