Now he sounded like he was getting angry. The rest of the drive was me listening to him list all the reasons why Halah couldn’t have a baby. I didn’t bother telling him that it was not really any of his business whether or not his sister had a baby. It took me a few minutes to realize he was driving to my apartment, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to anger the beast. He parked my Rover and then scrubbed his hands over his face.
I let him calm down for a moment and then I quietly said, “Your truck isn’t here. It’s at the lot. Do you want me to drive you there?”
He leaned his head back and then turned it to look at me.
“No, I just want to drink a beer, relax for a bit, and go to bed.”
“Here?” I couldn’t even try to hide the surprise from my voice.
“Did you expect, after everything that went on between us this weekend, you would ever sleep alone again?”
My heart swelled at his words. I flung my arms over the center console and wrapped them around his neck, pulling myself to him. He hugged me and one of his hands ran down the back of my head, stopping on my neck and squeezing me there. My pulse picked up with his touch. A hand on my neck had always been something I associated with Riot. It was his signature move, and feeling it in that moment only made everything inside of me heat up and liquefy.
“I don’t mind if you want to take things slow, Riot. You don’t have to stay with me.”
“Babe, I was all in months ago. I’m all in now. If you want me to go to my own place, you just have to say it. But I don’t really want to be away from you. Not now. Not when we just really found each other again.”
His words were said against my neck and even though I couldn’t see his face, I could hear his sincerity, his need. And even though a rational person would take a step back and not rush into such a serious relationship so quickly, there wasn’t even a tiny part of me that wanted to be apart from him either.
But there was one thing.
“I don’t know if I can stay at your apartment.” He didn’t say anything, just squeezed me tighter. “Marcus slept in that apartment and I just don’t think I could be in your living room without seeing him there and remembering…”
“Hey,” he said, pulling away. “It’s okay. I can’t walk past my couch without seeing him there either.” He cradled my face with his big hands and I leaned into one of them. “It was really hard at first, to see the spot where he’d slept. But eventually it got easier. I don’t expect you to go there. Not ever if you don’t want to. I will come to you.” He pushed back the hair that had fallen around my face during our embrace, then said, “Can we go inside, have a beer, relax, and then go to bed?”
“Yes,” I said happily.
“Riot, yes,” I cried, as he thrust deep into me. “God, yes.”
I was draped over him, his hands were on my ass, and he was absolutely fucking me into oblivion.
I had been exhausted—emotionally and physically—and I wasn’t even entertaining the idea of taking advantage of Riot Bentley in my bed, but he’d had other plans. Plans that involved me doing absolutely nothing, but still feeling absolutely everything. My heart was racing, my breaths were panting, and I was wet. Soaked from the orgasm he’d given me with his mouth, and now drenched from his perfect cock sliding in and out of me, hitting every single button inside me that only he’d ever been able to find.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled. I loved it when he growled. I leaned up, putting all my weight on one hand, and crashed my mouth down on his. He swallowed my cries as I came, and when I fell limply against him a few seconds later, he continued to piston in and out of me, rapidly finding his own release.
It had been quick, hot, sweaty sex. It had been perfect. I couldn’t have handled anything more involved than that, and he’d kept his promise that he’d do all the work.
He rolled me over so we were both on our sides, still connected, and he pressed a kiss to my lips.
“I totally owe you one round of effortless, amazing, sex,” I said after he’d pulled away, breaking our connection.
“Is that, like, a coupon or something I can cash in on whenever I want? Or is that something I have to wait to enjoy until you feel like gifting it to me?” He was smiling and that made me happy. Since we’d gotten back to my place he’d been pretty quiet, sullen even, drinking his beer and watching late night television. I’d expected to head to bed, perhaps cuddle a little, and then fall asleep. But as soon as we hit the bedroom he’d grabbed me, thrown me on the bed, and his mouth seemed to be on a mission.
“You can cash it in whenever you want, as long as I’m capable,” I replied, winking at him.
After a brief moment of silence he asked, “Can we talk about something?”
“Sure,” I said, then immediately yawned.
He rolled to his back, bringing me with him, and I moved so that my head was nestled right in the crook of his shoulder.
“At lunch today, that was a panic attack, right?”
I stilled at his words. My panic attack was the very last thing I’d thought he was going to bring up. When I didn’t answer right away, his hand came up and started moving up and down my arm.
“Yeah. It was.”