Page 44 of A Vintage of Regret
“I need you to stop,” he managed.
“If I must.” She kissed her way up his chest.
He reveled in the momentary respite, his heart pounding, his breath coming in short gasps. He wanted this. Needed this. But it wasn’t just about the physical pleasure. It was about the connection, their shared past, their love.
He pressed her onto her back, fumbled with the necessary protection, then he pushed inside. It felt like he’d come home.
She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, marking him as hers. He moved faster, harder, his body seeking the release that he craved. Raw pleasure spiked through him with every thrust, overwhelming him almost as much as the profound connection that drew them together. This was more than just a physical act—it was about reclaiming their love, rekindling the flame that had never truly gone out.
He could see his own pleasure mirrored in her eyes, the clenching of her body beneath him a clear indication that she was as lost in this moment as he was. Greedily, eagerly, she met every thrust, her hips grinding up to meet his with an intensity that spurred him on. He kissed her then, claiming her mouth in a heated dance of tongues, consumed by her taste, by her feel… by her.
Her climax hit, a violent shudder wracking her body taking him over the edge with her. Their bodies fused together, lost in a kaleidoscope of pleasure, as they rode out the aftermath together.
The silence that followed was only interrupted by the sound of their ragged breaths as they held each other, their bodies still entwined, the scent of their lovemaking hanging heavy in the air. Her fingers traced lazy patterns over his chest, her head nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his heart filling with an emotion so profound it was almost overwhelming.
He wasn’t sure what the future held for them. Later, they’d have to face reality, face the world with all its challenges. But for now, for this moment, it was just them, here in this room, tangled between the sheets, basking in the afterglow of their shared passion, their shared history.
“Not to scare you or anything, but you should know that I still love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair. She smiled against his chest, her hand squeezing his in response.
His heart swelled with a certain peace, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. The storm outside echoed his thundering heartbeat, a rhythm that pulsed with love and longing. There was a world outside the inn, one filled with complications and hardships, but it didn’t matter. Right now, all that mattered was Riley. Her warmth. Her love. Her understanding.
“I never stopped loving you,” she whispered back.
He held her close, cherishing the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her still on his lips. Whatever happened next—whether she stayed or left—whether they reunited or fell apart— didn’t matter. All he knew was that he loved her, and she loved him. And in that moment, it was enough.
“Hey, Ry?”
“What?”
“Can I stay here tonight? I really don’t want to get out of this bed.”
She laughed, but before she could answer, her phone buzzed. “Ugh.” She sat up. “I think I left my cell on the table by the window.”
“I’ll get it.” Bryson slipped from the bed, hiked up his boxers, and padded across the room. “Um, who is Mateo, and should I be jealous?”
Riley burst out laughing. “God, no. Feel free to answer it. He’s got a bit of a man crush on you.”
“Not fair. I don’t even know who this dude is.” He tapped the green button as he made his way back to bed, but not before snagging the bottle of wine and the glass. They could share. “Hey, Mateo,” Bryson said.
“Who is this?”
“Bryson and you’re on speaker with Riley.”
“Good to know. I was beginning to think my girl had been kidnapped,” Mateo said.
“Let’s get one thing straight. She’s my girl,” Bryson said as he topped off the glass, took a sip, and then handed it to Riley, who had turned about five shades of red. “Now, what can we do for you?”
“Riley?”
“Mateo?”
“Permission to speak freely?” Mateo asked.
Bryson liked this guy already.
“Of course. But now you’re freaking me out. Is everything okay?” She handed the glass back to Bryson and sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest.
“Yeah. But you got a letter today, and I don’t know how to tell you this,” Mateo said in a much softer voice.
