Page 119 of Riot

I looked down, and she was already tugging at my belt, slow, steady. Her eyes stayed locked on mine the whole time. Not a single flicker of hesitation. Just heat. Purpose.

When she freed me, I hissed. My dick was already heavy for her, half from grief, half from how she looked right now, kneeling like I was something holy and she was about to worship.

“Baby…” I started, but the words choked off when her lips wrapped around the head, tongue flicking with this soft little swirl that made my eyes roll back.

F**k.

Her mouth was wet and hot, moving slow like she was memorizing every inch. I braced a hand on the back of her head, fingers tangled in all that soft-ass hair, not forcing her down, just anchoring myself to the only thing in this godforsaken world that made sense.

Allure didn’t rush. She sucked me like she had time. Like this was how she wanted to pray.

When I finally groaned her name, she moaned back around my length, and it damn near took me out.

I pulled her up, kissed her deep, tasted myself on her tongue, and carried her to the bed.

We didn’t rip clothes off. We peeled them slow.

I laid her out like a canvas and painted every inch with my mouth—her thighs, her hips, the underside of her tits. Sheshivered and clutched my shoulders like she’d fall apart if I stopped.

“I love you,” I said into her skin.

She froze, then looked up at me with eyes full of something that felt like forever.

“I love you too.”

Those words cracked something open in me.

I slid into her slow, deep, until our bodies didn’t know where one ended and the other began. We moved together, no urgency, just this quiet ache between us, like we were rewriting every story our pain had ever told.

It wasn’t about coming. It wasn’t even about fucking.

It was about being seen.

Being chosen.

Being held through the storm and still wanting more.

Afterward, she curled up against me, her breath soft against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and closed my eyes, and for the first time in a long-ass time...

I slept.

No dreams.

No ghosts.

Just her.

And that was enough.

The sunlight creeping through the blinds didn’t even faze me. I woke up before it touched the sheets. Still in that calm, rare space where my chest wasn’t tight and my fists weren’t clenched.

She’d done that. Allure.

But the peace didn’t last long.

By the time I’d made my second espresso and lit a blunt, my phone rang.

Unknown number, but I knew the area code. Saint Michael’s.

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