My breath leaves my lungs.
Earn me.Earn me.Not win me.Not keep me.
Earn me.
I stare at him, heart pounding in a frantic rhythm.
“Riot,” I whisper.
He steps closer, but not too close.Close enough that heat rolls off him, not close enough to touch.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.“For everything.”
Something inside me bends, a soft, fragile place I didn’t know I still had.Then a noise cuts through the air.
A branch snapping.
Riot goes rigid every muscle, every nerve firing at once.His hand grips my wrist.
“Inside.Now.”
My heart jumps.“What?”
“Inside,” he growls, already pushing me toward the small house.
We rush in and he slams the door, locking it in one fluid motion.Then he drags a chair up under the handle and reaches for his gun.
“I saw someone,” he mutters.“Edge of the fence.Too close.”
A tremor races through me.“Again?”
He nods, scanning the windows.“They’re getting bold.Or desperate.”
I wrap my arms around myself, breath shaking.
He turns, sees me trembling, and in two strides he’s in front of me again.
“Come here,” he whispers.
I don’t think.I move.He pulls me into his chest, arms wrapping around me with a gentleness he doesn’t use on anyone else.I melt against him, breath syncing with his, fear dissolving under the weight of his warmth.
My cheek rests over his heart.It’s racing.
“Riot,” I whisper.“What if they come inside?”
His grip tightens.
“They won’t touch you,” he murmurs.“Not while I’m breathing.”
His voice vibrates through me, low, rough, vow-carved.
And something clicks inside my head a flash so strong my knees buckle.
Him.
Holding me like this.
Not here, but somewhere else.
