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He took his time in the bathroom and let the methodical sequence calm him. When he opened the door, Riley was tucked in, hair spilled across his pillow, eyes closed.

He smiled down at her.

A pile of clothes was on the floor next to the other side of the bed, kicked off, a bra discarded on top.

His heart began to hammer.

He pulled back the duvet and slid under it before completely believing it.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling.

She was in his bed, soft, completely naked, and dead asleep.

He stifled the groan in his chest. He didn’t need much sleep anyway.

Chapter 16

Riley

The darkness was absolute. Only the barest line of grey crept in from under the door. Riley waited for the heart-pounding fear, for the black to close in on her, but it didn’t. She breathed in cedar and clean laundry, and the bed was soft.

It felt like the middle of the night.

She shifted, cotton brushing over bare skin, and remembered that she’d been very brave when she’d finished cleaning her teeth and wiping the residue of too many feelings off her face. She hated sleeping in her clothes. And hadn’t brought pyjamas.

She rolled her hands in the duvet, bringing it up to her chin, and slowly became aware of the deep breathing next to her. The heat.

Saint hadn’t touched her. She’d been naked and asleep in his bed, reckless behaviour by all accounts, and he’d done nothing.

Part of her wished he had.

Settle down. These were early days, still casual. Just seeing where it goes, as Kristi had said when Riley bitched to her about the abrupt—cowardly—departure the other morning.

She wasn’t scared now.

She inched closer, barely breathing, as her knee brushed Saint’s leg.

She imagined what it would feel like to have him wrap an arm around her and pull her close, just to sleep better. She buried her face in the pillow and breathed deeply. Her mind ran to fantasyland, where everything was easy and warm and no one wanted anything other than what she’d already given.

Riley floated in between sleep and consciousness and contoured herself around him, her head on his shoulder. His arm was light on her waist, hardly touching.

Heat burned along every point of contact, and her nipples tightened as she became aware of it. Tolerance and desire felt pretty different, as it turned out.

“Hey,” he whispered, lips brushing her hair, and she pulled herself closer, not ready to explore the feelings crowded around her lungs. She skimmed her hand over his chest, and a shiver rippled through him.

Saint’s fingertips grazed her lower back and traced the two dimples he found.

Riley’s breath was shallow.

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl,” he told her softly, not a question, but not quite a demand.

Isn’t that the question she’d been asking herself for years now?

She breathed out. Even if she did know, she’d never let herself admit it out loud. Everything. Nothing. To stop having to fight so hard.

“This,” she whispered. She pressed her lips to his, just barely, in the dark. Saint groaned softly, and she stole the sound into her mouth. The scruff along his jaw was rough under her fingertips, a counterpoint to his soft tongue. He held back, muscles tense under her fingers.

“You’re not going to break me,” she told him, nipping his bottom lip as she let her body take over.