Until I Saw You (Until I Saw You #1)

by Dianna Roman

It's quiet for a moment. He exhales. The chair swivels, brushing against my knee. “How do I even turn this thing on? It’s like something from NASA.”

My toe bashes into something soft and warm. A groan rises up from the floor. Blinking, I see fur, wild dark chestnut fur. Holy shit. It’s Larry. He’s…he’s… Damn.

LMAOOOO

“He was right,” I tell him affectionately. “You are the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.”

Working me over…that’s as far as my brain got before I filled in words like working me over the couch, the bed, the kitchen counter.

“I actually thought about becoming an audiobook narrator,” I ramble to fill the silence. “Heck, yeah, you should!” he exudes. “You have the voice for it. I’d totally listen to you all day.”

“You make me useful again.” Is it pride or longing that swells in my chest? He makes me feel useful too, but it’s more than that. He makes me feel appreciated and seen, a lot like what I imagined love is supposed to feel like. “I’m glad, Riley.”

Nobody’s more deserving of having one of his romance novel happy endings than him. How could anybody squander a guy like Harper?

Testing myself, I imagine Harper on a date with glitter barista. My teeth clench, pain erupts in my chest. Fuck that. I’d cover myself in glitter, if that’s what it took for him to choose me over that guy.

Remembering Harper’s novels, I realize this is the part where the “straight” guy is supposed to freak out and try to reject his “strange” new feelings.

You think they’re normal, and the next thing you know, they’re dressing you in a pink polo or bleaching your light fixtures.

Why does it matter what other people think? They’re not the one with the feelings. These are my feelings, and…they’re making me smile.

How does Harper feel? Is a blind, baseball bat-wielding, motorcycle-riding, cheese-addicted, pain in the ass appealing to him? Fuck. Okay. This novel officially sucks.

Before I can protest, the cold wet tip of his double-scoop cone connects with my cheek. “Did I miss your mouth?” he asks innocently. “You did that on purpose,” I crack up, reaching for the napkins. “I’m so sorry,” he laments in his signature deadpan, but then another wet kiss of ice cream grazes my earlobe. “Riley! Come on!” “What’s the matter? Did I miss again?” he asks, running his fingers from my ear to my cheek, smearing the mess.

What is he saying? Does he know how much that sounds like flirting? He’s been acting strange the last two weeks. Sitting closer to me on the couch, giving me friendly little rubs between my shoulders, asking my likes and dislikes—I swear I’m not imagining the extra attention. Plus, not only have audiobooks become our nightly ritual, he’s…been asking questions. Last night’s was the most uncomfortable. “So…prostate stimulation? That’s…that’s really a thing? Like…what does it feel like?”

WHAT

Good. He thinks I’m fun. That’s got to count for something. It makes me realize the goal of tonight—it’s an exploratory mission. I’m going to read his every word, his every move like Braille. I know people. I won’t suck at this kind of Braille.

Shit. Who does that? Who leaves a little kid and their blind wife to fend for themselves?

“What about you?” he asks. “Did you always want to be an app designer?” “No. I wanted to play video games, be an Olympic soccer player, and race motorcycles. Not in any particular order.” I can just picture him shaking his head as he laughs. “Your poor mother.”

“He’s coming. Look sharp,” she warns. “Hey, I thought you said I already look sharp,” I snark. “You’ll be fine.” She laughs. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”

gahh lol

I might have grabbed his hand because I was terrified to get out of that bar unscathed, but I’m holding it now because it feels right. His hand was meant to be in mine. It makes sense there. I don’t want it to ever stop making sense.

“I know how to show a guy a good time. What can I say?” He laughs.

that double meaning goes crazy

Hands on his hips, that sexy mouth of his that I’ve stared at more than I care to admit quirks up at the corner, one brow arching. “Say fine one more time.” Face aflame, I sigh in defeat, then murmur pathetically, “Fine.”

“Were you mad I let go?” I want to laugh deliriously. He doesn’t need to be more alluring by whispering like that. I’m already dead. “Maybe,” I whisper back. “I didn’t want to let go,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over my jaw.

“Did you…want me to let go?” I should lie. I should absolutely lie because whatever this is, it’s foolish and dangerous and irresponsible. But whatever this is, it’s so damn intoxicating that I can’t. “No.” “I’m sorry,” he breathes, not kissing, but letting his lips brush mine with his words for a beautiful almost-kiss. “I won’t let go next time.”

giggling & kicking my feet

That’s just the way I grip Riley’s scruffy jaw as his head slants and his tongue sweeps over the top of mine.

His lips drag over mine and suckle in slow motion. For a guy who’s perpetually impatient, the man makes kissing an art form. And then I hear it, amidst my own panting whimpers. “Mm. Mm.” Christ, he’s moaning like he does when he eats. The vibrating sounds act like a charming flute’s melody, stirring my cock to life. I want to lay down on this counter and be his next meal, but an inconvenient sense of duty tells me I’m taking liberties.

He’s…touching his lips, the lips that just kissed me, the lips that I just kissed. He’s touching our kiss, and he’s…smiling.

What comes after a feelings exploration mission that ends in a kiss? An abruptly ended kiss followed by no mention of said-kiss this morning? Do I move onto the wooing? Should I reassess the feelings exploration? Why are men so complicated?

“I…why do you ask? Is there a water rugby game you want to go to or something?” Fucking Harper. Snorting, I ruffle his hair. “No, but if I find out that’s actually a thing, we’re so doing it.”

“When did this start?” The second I smelled sugar cookies and heard your nervous voice when I opened my door two months ago? Licking my chlorinated lips, I swallow, unsure why I shoot for honesty. “A few weeks ago.” “A few weeks ago? And you didn’t tell me?” “I thought…maybe it’d go away.” “Riley, you should have said something! How often does it happen?” I want to laugh at the irony. He was worried about me drowning. The only thing I’m in danger of drowning in is him. Catching my breath, I confess, “Whenever I’m near you. Whenever you touch me.”

I don’t get to finish. Hands cup my face, and then warm lips press against mine. His stubble brushes against my chin. His thumbs stroke gentle motions against my jaw as his mouth tenderly captures my lower lip, and then my upper one.

“Did it feel like pity?” “I’m not sure. Maybe you should show me again.”

“That was a you’re-my-boss-but-I-can’t-help-it-any-longer-kiss. I’m sorry. I know you don’t need me. I was…trying to be a good employee.” His confession makes me shudder in relief. “I think I like being the boss.” His laughter vibrates in his chest against mine, making me smile. Hesitantly, I find his cheek with my palm. “Can I…be the boss again?” I whisper, nudging my nose against his, thirsty for more of his surrender. “Why not?” He chuckles, mocking one of my signature phrases before he seals his lips to mine again.

Might as well make this a three-way. No man left behind.

What are the bases with men and how long are you supposed to wait before rounding them?

“It’s just that…I work for you. You pay me to be here. It still feels wrong…like I’m breaking a law or something.” “Nooo. My insurance company pays you to be here.” I smile, hoping that solves that bit of nonsense, but his ever-worrisome brain comes back with a quick rebuttal. “You pay for your insurance. It’s the same thing.”

LMAOOO

“Not at all. So, the way I see it, you have five weeks left to violate me before I have to hire you out of pocket to keep you around,

LMAOOO

When his hand skirts around my ribcage, all the blood rushes to my head as his fingertips circle my nipple. Tingling static explodes from the point of his touch through my body all the way to my toes, making me shudder. Pulling back, I pant breathlessly. Since when have my nipples had that power? “What the hell did you do to my nipples,” I demand. “Sorry, I—” he starts and goes to withdraw his hand, but I cut him off, capturing his lower lip. “Do it again,” I plead.

Groaning, my hips grind into his of their own accord. My face heats at my own wantonness, wondering if it’s too much for him, if he’s going to spring up off the couch like so many nights before, but his body answers mine. Hips rising into me, he undulates, the outline of his cock gyrating against mine.

Running my palm across his stomach, I reach for him in the same way. His hardness, his girth, it’s a prize in my hand, knowing I’m the cause of it.

“Harper,” I whisper my favorite word. “Riley,” he whispers back.

The stifled cry that leaves my lips is a noise I desperately want to hear him make too.

The way he whimpers in my ear and his hips jerk, stretch a smile across my face. “Yeah, baby,” I pant, lapping at his earlobe, producing a full-body shudder in him that makes me feel like a king.

gahh

His hand wraps around the both of us, slickening us together, mixing our arousal with each slide. The heat of him against me, the delicate skin against sensitized delicate skin, as I rut into his grip like an animal, lets me know I do need him. I need him more than I ever needed anything in my life.

“Harper!” I gasp, spilling over the top of his hand, burying my face in his neck. He moans, his grip flying faster as my cock twitches, happy to be locked in his clutches. The schick, schick sounds of my release as he seeks his own fills me with possessiveness, knowing he’s using my pleasure as an aid to give him what he needs.

I just made my man come. My man.

gah

Going blind might have been the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me Harper.

Sighing, I bring his phone up to my mouth and narrate the description he requested for the next article of clothing. “Riley’s funny as fuck blind as a bat man t-shirt.” “Yeah!” he cheers. “Nice. Send it to the

I guess it doesn’t matter how boring I am. Riley will always supply the entertainment.

“Are you okay though? Do you want to go somewhere else?” “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Sputtering, he snakes his arm around my neck, tugging me into a light headlock. “Fine in Harper language is not fine. Hang on,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Rita, search for gay bars near me.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do, Riley.”