Page 87 of SINS & Riley
27
ZVER
I shouldn’t see Riley right now. I’m too on edge.
Half the time, I can’t decide whether to throw her over a knee or slam her up the nearest wall and fuck her until she bends to my will.
Nothing good can come from this.
Not that it’s stopping me.
I storm up the steps and reach her door, fighting the urge to kick it off its hinges.
She needs to trust me. She needs to stop hiding pieces of herself like I won’t find them. And I know if I storm in like a battering ram, I lose that chance.
Yeah, too fucking late.
The door slams open. I half-expect to find her burying her emotional scars in bed, lips wrapped around a cannoli, nose buried in a book.
I shove the door open, already half feral, the word snapping out before I can stop it. “Pom!”
I’ve managed to forget the Russian accent I’m supposed to wear like a second skin. Good going, genius.
Thankfully, it’s only the one word.
Dumbfounded, I scan the room.
The bed is empty.
Sheets still untouched.
Her latest shifter-smut novel sprawled dead center on the mattress, mocking me with its dog-eared corner.
God, woman. Use a bookmark.
I know she hates doing it as much as I hate seeing it. Guess her imagination’s run dry with ways to fuck with my head.
I’m halfway to turning around when it hits me. A soft, broken sniffle that cuts the silence in two.
I turn.
And there she is.
She’s curled in the corner, knees tucked to her chest, shoulders quaking with silent sobs she's desperate to smother.
Her hair falls forward, veiling most of her face, but I still see her. The tremor in her lips. The swallow that steals each sound.
The fragile way she’s holding herself together just to keep from shattering apart.
When I walked in here, I was ready to tear into her. Drag the truth out by any means necessary.
Now, all I want is to gather her up and hold her.
I do neither.
I shut the door and cross the room.
For once, she doesn’t bristle at my presence. Doesn’t bare those sharp little teeth.
