Page 3 of Property of Riot


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She’s scared.

Not of me.

No her fear is of us.

I understand it.Don’t fall in love that is the rule.Easy, this should be easy.

My chest tightens.

Too late, sunshine.I’m in deep even when I know better.

I swallow it down, shove the feeling where I keep all the other shit I don’t deal with.I smooth my thumb over her ass before I cup her cheeks like it’s no big thing, like my heart didn’t just buck against my ribs.

“No feelings to be had,” I remind her, my voice low, steady.Safer than the truth.“I remember.”

Her chin tips up.“Just,” she hesitates with a heavy inhale, “fun.”

There it is.The line in the sand she thinks will keep her safe.

Fun.

Right.

I roll the word around in my head, then nod once.“Fun,” I echo, even though it doesn’t sit right.

Never has.

I pick her up without warning, her legs wrapping around my waist like they’re meant to be there.She laughs, breathless and surprised, the sound lighting something warm in my chest I don’t deserve.

Her lips brush my jaw as I carry her toward the bedroom.Her hands around my neck, her body soft against mine.Every step I take feels like I’m walking right off a cliff I swore I’d never get near.

“Always clear,” I mutter with a groan, because I have to.Because if I don’t remind us both what this is, I might start pretending it’s more.“This is exactly as it has been.”

She gives me a smile I don’t buy.It’s too bright at the edges, too thin in the middle.

“Good,” she whispers.“We’re on the same page.”

No, we’re not.

Same book, same chapter, maybe.

Different page.

I lay her back on the bed, standing and removing my clothes before bracing myself over her.I had her clothes off back in the living room right after I walked in her place.This is us.

She is naked under me and I feel alive for the first time since I left her in this bed last night.Each day the same torment of putting her to bed with the sated bliss of a good fuck to go back to my life existing until the evening comes and I make my way here yet again.

The way she looks at me—wide open and trusting and a little nervous—makes something inside me go quiet.Makes the noise of the world fall away.

I shouldn’t look at her like this.

Shouldn’t touch her like this.

Shouldn’t come back, over and over, when I know damn well I can’t give her anything real.

But when her hands slide up my chest and her body arches into mine like I’m a habit she can’t break?

Yeah.I’m gone.