I slide my hand between us and start working her clit with my thumb as I keep fucking, slow and hard.

Her eyes flash open, the center of a blaze burning there, flickering like wildfire.

“There it is,” I murmur through a smirk.

Riley gasps, a shy smile lifting her lips.

I drop to my elbow, still working her with my fingers. My hips thrusting. My mouth a breath away. I build it in her fast, watching it in her eyes and feeling the way her body jumps and grows tighter. Then she goes off and she’s grabbing my face and giving me that hot mouth, hard and desperate.

She’s coming and moaning my name and oh, God while she clenches around my dick so goddamn tight I nearly stop breathing.

“Riley,” I growl, pumping into her fast and getting there seconds after she does. “Fuck . . . Riley.”

I empty into the condom and bury my face in her neck.

We come down slow and we kiss even slower. Savoring this. She’s trying to catch her breath and I’m trying to catch mine, both of us clutching at each other until I need to pull away to get cleaned up.

After disposing of the condom, I crawl back into bed, lay on my back and pull Riley close, half against my side and half sprawled across my chest, just like she was last night.

“You’re staying,” I tell her, in case she needs reminding of how I want this to be between us.

Riley’s arm around me squeezes tight. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.

I close my eyes. Content. Comfortable.

This feels good. Really fucking good.

The light touches of her fingers on my chest and the curve of my ribs are the last things I remember before sleep pulls me under, and I let it.

Riley isn't going anywhere tonight.

I SHIFT THE gear into park and cut the engine of my car, staring at the house through the windshield.

I know what I’m about to do and I’m ready to do it, only I know it’s most likely going to be awkward and difficult given the fact I’m pulled in the driveway behind Richard’s Ford F150, meaning he’ll be a witness to my pack-and-go, and I really don’t want awkward and difficult.

I want this to be easy. I need this to be easy.

We were together for a year and a half, so unfortunately, I already know.

This isn’t going to be easy.

Grabbing my keys, I get out of the car and head for the front door, squinting in the May sun. I test the knob when I step up onto the porch, and when it isn’t locked, I enter.

The house is quiet until I close the door behind me. Then I hear a chair scooting across the tile floor, and when I look down the hallway, Richard is emerging from the kitchen.

“Jesus fuck,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands down his face. He drops his arms and starts advancing toward me. “I’ve been calling you since Friday. Why haven’t you answered me?”

I ignore the harshness of his tone when he stops a foot away, because now he’s close enough I can see how bloodshot his eyes are and the shadows beneath them.

He hasn’t been sleeping well.

Good.

“I switched my phone off,” I admit.

No point in hiding that.

He nods as if accepting my excuse and the unspoken reason behind it.

“How was the wedding?” he asks with genuine interest in his voice.

I feel my brows pull together.

What in the actual fuck?

“What do you care? You didn’t even want me to go,” I remind him.

Richard looks down at the floor and grips the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah, that was fucked up. I shouldn’t have been like that to you. I’m sorry.” He lifts his head and our eyes lock. I see his apology written all over his face. He really means it.

I feel a tinge of gratitude for his regret, but what's done is done.

“Fine.” I go to pass him and head for the stairs when he sidesteps, blocking me. “Can you move? I need to get my stuff,” I explain.

“Why are you getting your stuff?”

“Because I’m moving out.”

He flinches, jerking his head back as if I had slapped him. “You’re moving out?” he echoes. “Why? Because we had a fight?”

I blink up at him, starting to feel just as confused as he seems to be.

“We broke up, Richard. That was more than just a fight.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and breathes a laugh. “We didn’t break up,” he mutters.

My brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

“I yelled and said shit I didn’t mean. You yelled and said shit you didn’t mean.” He shrugs. “We had a fight, Riley. Had them before and I’m sure we’ll have more of them. That’s all it was.”

I narrow my eyes and tip my chin up. “You called me a bitch,” I snap. “More than once, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Yeah. That’s part of the shit I didn’t mean. Come on.” He cocks his head as his eyes soften. “You know I don’t think that about you. Have I ever called you anything like that before?”

I take a second to think, but I don’t need it. I know the answer.

“No,” I reply quietly.

“That’s right, because I don’t think like that.” He reaches out and begins slowly running his hands up and down my arms in a soothing motion. “I was pissed and I took that shit out on you. That was my fuck up. I knew it wasn’t your fault but I put it on you anyway because I needed someone to feel it, and all fucking weekend I’ve been regretting that. Did you listen to my messages?”

“I deleted them this morning.” I step back, getting out of his reach when his hands start to irritate my skin.

His mouth twitches. “Guess I deserved that,” he replies. “But if you had listened to them, you would’ve heard how sorry I was.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” I counter.

His face hardens. “Why not?”

I sigh, pinch my lips together, and cock my head at the same angle his was cocked. “Because we broke up,” I hiss, irritation spreading through me. “So you spending your weekend apologizing to me wouldn’t have mattered. You were apologizing to someone who wasn’t yours anymore.”

I try and get past him again by squeezing between him and the wall, but Richard steps over and blocks me.

He isn’t a big guy. Not nearly as big as some people . . .