Riley’s hand stayed exactly where it was.

Her palm pressed firmer against the thick, throbbing outline of my cock through my jeans. She squeezed again, slowly and deliberately, like she was checking how hard I really was. Her fingers wrapped around the shaft as much as the denim would let her.

“Riley…” I whispered again, my voice barely there. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were locked on mine, wide and confused, breathing fast and shallow. The same look I knew was on my own face.

“I don’t know,” she finally whispered back. Her voice trembled. “I… I shouldn’t. Jake, this is so wrong.” She...