Something flutters in my chest, confusing and warm.
He turns to me finally, stepping closer, scanning me for what?Injuries?Fear?Weakness?
“You hurt anywhere?”he murmurs.
“No.Just overwhelmed.”
He nods slowly.“Makes sense.”
His voice is barely above a whisper now.“You been through a hell of a lot in a matter of days.”
He moves another step closer, and suddenly he’s there right in front of me heat rolling off his body, presence filling every corner of my awareness.
I tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.And something flickers.A flash.
His mouth on mine.His hand on my hip.
His forehead pressed to mine in the dark, breathing hard—I gasp.
Riot freezes.
“What?”he demands softly.
“I remembered something.”
Our faces are inches apart.His breath catches.
“What did you see?”he asks.Not desperate, but close.
“It was a kiss,” I whisper.“You and me.”
His throat bobs as he swallows.“Yeah,” he murmurs.“We did that a lot.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
But the memory is hazy heat, warmth, want more sensation than detail.
I grab the edge of the counter to steady myself.“Riot, I’m scared.”
He steps closer, so close I can feel the brush of his shirt against my sweater.
“Of what?”he asks gently.
“Of remembering everything,” I whisper.“And of not remembering anything at all.Or not getting the chance.”
His eyes soften, losing all their hardness.“You ain’t gonna lose yourself,” he says quietly.“Not on my watch.”
He lifts a hand, hesitates, then cups the side of my face so gently it breaks something open inside me.
Warmth.
Safety.
Trust.
Pull.
My heart dives into a faster rhythm.
