"Perfect." Riley's legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper.
Grant moved, setting a slow, steady rhythm. This wasn't the desperate urgency of the barn or the cramped heat of his truck or even the passion of their first night in this bed. This was something else—something tender and real and terrifying in its intensity.
Riley's hands roamed his back, his shoulders, his arms, touching him everywhere she could reach. Grant kissed her neck, her jaw, her mouth, swallowing her soft moans.
"God, you feel so good," Riley gasped.
Grant shifted his angle, going deeper, and Riley cried out softly.
"Right there," she breathed. "Don't stop."
"Never."
He reached between them, his fingers finding where they were joined, circling the bundle of nerves that made Riley's breath hitch.
"Grant— I'm close?—"
"Let go, Riley."
Grant kept the same steady rhythm, his fingers working in time with his thrusts, watching Riley come apart beneath him. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes locked on his like she couldn't look away.
"I'm—Grant?—"
She came with his name on her lips, her whole body trembling, her hands clutching at his shoulders. The feel of her tightening around him pushed Grant over the edge, and he followed her with a groan, burying his face in her neck.
They stayed tangled together, both breathing hard, neither wanting to move.
"That was—" Riley started.
"Different," Grant finished.
"Good different."
"Very good different."
Grant rolled to the side, pulling Riley with him so she was tucked against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth.
"Stay," he whispered, even though she was already there, even though morning was hours away. Even though he knew she thought he’d meant just for the night. But he didn’t mean that…
"I'm not going anywhere," Riley murmured, already half asleep.
Grant held her close, listening to her breathing even out, and let himself believe it.
Just for tonight.
Grant woketo weak winter sunlight streaming through the window and Riley still in his arms.
She was asleep, her face peaceful, dark hair spread across his pillow. He watched her for a moment—the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the slight curve of her mouth, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
He was in love with her.
He'd probably never stopped loving her.
And last night had only made it more clear.
Riley stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Morning."
"Morning." Grant brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Sleep okay?"
