Page 132 of SINS & Riley
My fingers bury in his thick, dark waves, grip tightening as the knife flashes again.
And just like that, my panties fall in two shreds to the floor.
He casts the blade aside and pulls me into his arms, holding me tight—too tight.
“I heard what you said, Pom.”
Silently, I know he means it. The I love you he didn’t return.
And just when I think he’s about to give it back, he doesn’t say those three little words.
He says so much more.
“It’s always been you. The one thing I can’t control. Can’t fight. Can’t live without. You’re my life, Pom. You and your baby. And for the rest of my life, I will kill or die to protect you.”
It’s more than a declaration of love.
It’s a declaration of us. All of us. The baby, too.
It slams into me in a violent rush. This love. A surge so raw my chest aches with it, my heart pounding like it’s about to explode.
His mouth crushes mine before I can think—rough, consuming, a kiss that takes instead of gives. So hard and devouring, it’s a stamp of possession.
Ownership seared into me, breath by breath.
When he finally tears away, I’m dizzy. Marked. His.
We head for the shower. He sets me gently on my feet, one arm still locked around me, and turns on the water.
Heat and steam fill the room, curling around us.
But all I see is him.
And, the mask.
“Um…” My head tilts. “What about your mask?”
“It stays on.” His voice is iron. Final. Like the damn thing’s fused to his skin, welded there with every secret he’s not ready to give me.
“I can’t let you do that,” I whisper. “I’ll just close my eyes.”
His stare locks on mine. Unblinking.
“No.”
“You can trust me.”
“Trust you?” He lets out a sharp, taunting breath of a laugh. “Not a chance. You’ve got the curiosity of ten litters of cats—and none of the self-preservation.”
Heat sparks in my chest. This man. I’m not giving in. “Fine. Then I’ll stay turned around. But if we’re taking a shower together, everything comes off.” I lift my chin, daring him. “Or I’m not going in.”
He studies me for a beat, then mutters low, “I swear to God, if Enzo doesn’t kill me, you will.”
His eyes hold mine, smirk curving sharp under the mask. “Suit yourself.”
He steps into the shower. Alone. Hot water cascades over the planes of his body, those perfect, mesmerizing muscles, and the mask still firmly in place.
And he thinks I’m the stubborn one.
