Prologue
Kelly
Riot’s mouth is on my throat, hot and possessive, and God help me, I melt for him every single time.
The dim light of my apartment flickers from the hallway lamp, casting shadows across his shoulders as he pins me gently—yes, gently, as if he’s terrified of pushing too far—against the wall.His hands bracket my hips, warm and rough, sliding up my sides like he already knows the way to unravel me.Because he does.
“Kelly…” he murmurs, voice low and sinful, his breath brushing my ear.
My fingers lace around the back of his head, tugging him closer.It’s instinct now, muscle memory, a gravitational pull I pretend I don’t understand.He kisses me like he’s starving.Like he hasn’t had his mouth on me every chance he gets.
The heat between us sparks fast, too fast, the kind that should terrify me, but instead makes my knees go weak.I feel myself arch into him, feel the quiet growl he gives back.The promise in it.The warning of the intensity yet to come.
This—whateverthisis between us—always burns bright, always feels like the beginning of something neither of us will admit out loud because it might just fizzle out if we accept it.
That’s why I have to say it.
I drag my mouth away from his, breathing hard, my heart slamming against my ribs.His forehead rests against mine, his breath ragged, his hands still gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
“Riot…” I whisper, swallowing the emotion trying to rise.“Don’t fall in love with me,” I remind him like we haven’t been doing this same dance for months.
His eyes open slowly, dark and unreadable.There’s a flicker—hurt, surprise, something warmer—before he masks it with his familiar broody calm.
“We said we were keepin’ it simple,” he mutters, brushing his thumb over my hip.“I remember.”
“No strings,” I say, trying to sound stronger than I feel.“Just… fun.”It’s more of a reminder to myself, but I’ll never tell him this.
He pauses.
Just a beat.
His jaw ticks.
But he nods.“Fun,” he repeats, though the word sounds like it tastes wrong on his tongue.
He lifts me easily, carrying me toward the bedroom with that slow, controlled confidence that always makes my stomach flip.My legs wrap around him automatically, a soft gasp escaping me when his body presses to mine.
“Long as we’re clear,” he says, voice low and rough as he lays me back on the bed.“This is what we agreed.”
I give him a smile that feels thinner than I want it to.“Good,” I lie, because it’s safer that way.“We’re on the same page.”
He studies me for a second too long, like he’s searching for something I’m not ready to give.Something I’m terrified he’ll see.Then he kisses me again, slow at first, deepening until the world goes warm and blurry and beautifully uncomplicated.
His hands slide over me, steady, tender in a way I crave.He moves against me like he knows every thought I haven’t said, every place I need him most.And as our breaths tangle and the room fades around us, I almost forget the rule I insisted on.
Almost.
Because the way he says my name?
The way he touches me like it means something?
The way my heart stumbles in my chest?
If either of us falls first, it’s going to hurt.
So I close my eyes, hold onto the heat, the closeness, the illusion of safety.
Just fun.
