Page 200 of SINS & Riley
His gaze slams into me with such intensity I don’t need words—I know exactly what he’s saying. He would do anything for me.
And I know he would.
There’s so much in his eyes, too much, and I can’t take it.
So I whip a pillow at his chest.
His hands still, and his brow arches dangerously high. “Come on, Pom. That the best you’ve got?”
I nail him again. And again. Until we’re in a full-blown pillow fight—exactly what the doctor ordered.
For the first time in forever, the sound filling the room isn’t fear or grief.
It’s us—laughing, wild and reckless, until the walls shake and old wounds rattle loose.
Out of nowhere, he says, “I’d like to take you on a date.”
Butterflies kick hard in my chest, catching me off guard. I mask it the only way I know how—by smacking him with the pillow again.
“Is that a yes, Pom?”
I fight the smile. And lose. “Yes.”
And somewhere in the cracks, the ice around my heart finally begins to thaw.
70
RILEY
For weeks now, Dante’s been sleeping with me. And I’ve been sleeping with him.
Literally. Sleeping.
No sex. Not that there aren’t fireworks—toe-curling kisses, eighth-grade make-outs, the whole heavy-petting package—but he’s on his best behavior.
And a bad boy on hiatus? That’s a million times worse.
Because late at night, when his body curls around mine, I feel him—hard, unrelenting against my back.
And God, it’s torture.
Do I want more? Yeah. Okay, fine. I definitely want more.
But right now? I just want to be held. To be told everything’s going to be okay.
Except I’m terrified.
His hand slides over my ever-growing belly, strong and steady. “Your blood pressure’s been up.”
That’s putting it mildly. It’s been through the roof.
“It’ll be fine,” I lie, brushing it off.
“Talk to me, Pom. Tell me anything. You can trust me.”
Trust.
Such a small word for such a heavy demand. He’s lied to me in every language—half-truths, silences, clean-cut betrayals.
