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Her mind emptied of everything except the dark possession in his gaze.

He held her like he would never let her go.

Like he needed her—angry, sleepy, confused. However she was.

No one had ever made her feel like that.

Whole and accepted.

Riley’s entire lower body clenched and started to shake, and her breath came in hoarse pants as he rocked against her, seated deep. She looked up.

“Let go, sweet girl.”

Her internal muscles fluttered and then clamped down around him, squeezing tight. Her silent scream was agony and ecstasy and a heart-pounding relief.

She couldn’t move as her entire body contracted and no sound came out, until a low keen she barely recognized filled the room.

Saint groaned and began to move, pushing himself out and in again, fucking her through the mind-melting orgasm. He held her steady while wave after wave shattered her. He pressed deep and hard, pushing a gasped scream out of her mouth as the peak extended. Spots of colour erupted behind her eyes. He fused them together and bowed his head over her shoulder as he came with a low moan. Her muscles lost all tension as a sated warmth floated through her. He pulled her into his chest as he caught his breath, cradling her against him.

“You’re perfect. You did so well for me,” Saint murmured into her hair and lifted her off the counter. The praise was a blanket around Riley’s shoulders and sank under her skin. She wasn’t sure what it was for, but it landed deep within her, and she blinked as her eyes stung. She pressed her face into his chest and inhaled the heat of his skin.

He carried her across the loft and kicked his bedroom door open. The bathroom was dark as he stepped directly into the shower, flicking it on. He held her out of the spray until it was warm enough, and then he slowly set her down. She barely stood on weak legs.

“I’m still mad at you,” she whispered as warm water flowed down her back. She tilted her head, wetting her hair as he ran his fingers through it. “You shouldn’t have left—” She couldn’t get the last word out.

You shouldn’t have left me.

“I know, Ri,” he murmured back and then kissed her. The tenderness made her eyes sting.

Chapter 22

Riley

The sun highlighted the swirling dust motes, disturbed by the frantic flapping of bedsheets. Riley balanced her phone against the picture frame on her shelf and then went back to folding a week’s worth of clean laundry. She fought the smile that had been hugging her lips ever since Saint had dropped her off at home, kissing her senseless in the front seat of his truck. She’d called in sick to work—the idea of oppressive small talk and paperwork made her feel physically ill.

Which was basically the same as being sick.

It was nice, being home in the middle of the day.

“A mental health day is always important, but you’re not supposed to use it to do chores.”

She rolled her eyes as her mother’s wide smile radiated out from the phone. Valerie Sinclair took self-care very seriously.

“You were always industrious. Must have gotten it from your father.”

“I got it from you, too,” Riley said, fighting the fitted sheet into a semblance of a square.

A hand flapped on the screen. “Tell me what’s new in your life. Kristi texted one of those G-I-Fs. I hear there’s a new man in your life?”

Riley was unable to hide her groan. “The two of you are such gossips.”

“That’s not a no,” Mom sang out through the living room. “I miss her. It’s not the same hearing all the updates over text as it was in the kitchen after school.” She sighed wistfully and then looked through the camera right at Riley.

“It’s early.” She put the next load in the wash. Maybe that’d be the end of it.

“I knew your father was the one the first time I saw him.”

No such luck.