Page 67 of Riot

It was soft at first. Searching. But when his mouth opened against mine, when his tongue slid across my bottom lip like he’d been waiting to taste me—I fell into it.

His hands tightened on my waist as he laid me back, his weight shifting over me, between my legs. My heart raced, a soft moan catching in my throat as he kissed me like he meant it. Like he needed it too. His lips were demanding but patient, giving but hungry.

I clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer. I needed to feel something good. Something real. And Riot was all of that. Solid and warm and strong. His kisses lit my skin on fire, and I wanted to burn.

My fingers slipped lower, brushing against the waistband of his jeans, trembling as they dipped beneath the hem?—

But his hand caught mine.

Gently. But firmly.

I froze. Pulled back just enough to look at him.

“What?” I asked, breathless.

He rested his forehead against mine. “Don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I want this. God knows I do,” he said, voice low and thick. “But I need you to be a hundred percent sure. This your first time, Allure. I’m not gon’ take it just ’cause you’re in pain. You deserve better than that.”

I blinked, stunned by how fast the heat melted into something else. Shame. Gratitude. Emotion I didn’t know how to name.

“I just…” I whispered. “I want to feel good. I want to forget.”

He cupped my face, brushed his thumb along my cheek. “And you will. But not like this. Not when your broken up like this.”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Riot kissed my forehead, then slowly got out of the bed. “Come outside with me. Let’s get some air. I brought food. We’ll sit by the pool, eat, chill for a bit.”

I nodded again, slower this time. My body was still on fire, still aching for him—but something about his restraint made me want him even more. He didn’t need to prove anything. And he wasn’t going to take anything I didn’t offer with my whole heart.

He stood and reached out a hand.

I took it.

As he led me out of the room, I stole one more glance over my shoulder at the bed. At the place where grief almost tipped into something else.

And all I could think was…

I want him.

Chapter 20

RIOT

It was quiet by the pool, the kind of stillness that only came after sundown. The sky was a deep navy now, stars scattered overhead like someone had cracked open a jewelry box and flung it across the dark. I’d turned on the underwater lights—soft blue and purple glowing beneath the surface—and lit the torches around the patio to cast just enough light without ruining the calm.

Allure sat across from me in one of the loungers, wrapped in my robe, her legs tucked beneath her. Her skin caught the firelight in the most dangerous way—glowing, golden, like peace wrapped in a storm. She hadn’t said much, just gave me a small smile when I brought out the seafood boil I'd ordered—crab legs, shrimp, sausage, corn, the whole spread. She hadn’t eaten like this in a long time, but the way she moved now, breaking crab with her fingers, licking garlic butter from her knuckles—she looked like she belonged to it. Like she was reclaiming something.

I cracked a claw and leaned back. “Tell me about your pops.”

She paused, just barely. Her hands slowed.

“He was a dangerous man,” she said, her tone even but distant.

The torches flickered across her face. She kept her eyes on her plate.

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