Page 67 of Violent Skies

“Stop,” Riggs grinds out. “That’s why you don’t need to know. What happened in that stairwell will change how you look at them, at me.”

“New flash, Riggs. I watched Birdie kill a man,” I bite. “That ship has sailed.”

He drops his head, dark curls bounce around before he pushes them back with his fingers and looks at me again. “We roughed him up a little, asked him questions he wouldn’t answer, but he’s dead—I shot him in the head.”

I force the nausea down at the idea of watching Riggs do something like that. He’s right, it tilts my view sideways, but it doesn’t change, it’s just rattling. It was a simple thing to digest when they were illegally racing, that I could handle.

But they’re killers.

They were long before I knew, and now because of me they’re adding to the body count.

“I shouldn’t have told you.” Riggs shakes his head.

“No,” I correct him. “I— I wish you didn’t have to.” My hands shake in my lap.

His expression shifts and his head tips to the side like he isn’t expecting the gratitude but lately that’s all I can do, thank them for laying down their lives over and over again for me. And after everything.

“I’d do anything for you,” he says after a long moment of deciding the argument isn’t worth it anymore. His voice is quiet but not void of tension.

“I know,” I whisper, my heart racing faster than it ever had with Koa. There’s something about Riggs that makes me feel like I’m speeding down a busy highway in the wrong lane. Like nothing before him or after him would ever fill that gap of adrenaline that he creates from scratch. I want it injected in my veins.

“Anything,” he repeats as the heat rises in the car between us. There’s so much we should be talking about, so much that I’m fucking terrified of. The blood on his hands, the blood on mine.

I nod, understanding the stakes even as the nausea flips in my stomach.

I watch as he slowly undoes his seatbelt, putting the Mustang in park and climbing from it before I even have the chance to ask him what he's doing. The rain runs down his body, soaking his hair and clothes.

He opens the passenger door, leaning over me and shaking out his hair and coating me in cold droplets. “Riggs!” I squeal as he pops my seat belt then retreats to kneel beside me. “What are you doing?” I laugh nervously as he grabs my ankles and spins me in the seat.

“Working out this tension,” he grunts, “and my adrenaline.” He works at the button on my jeans, pausing momentarily to push his wet curls from his eyes before returning to push them over my hips. When he manages to get them down my thighs and calves he chucks them in the backseat and the highway rattles as a semi truck passes in a hurry.

I shiver from the rain and Riggs smirks as he pushes up on the frame. He leans down, pressing his mouth against mine and steals the warmth from my lips before making a trail down my body. His wet hand pushes up my shirt so he can place more kisses against my stomach. He hooks my leg over his shoulder, exposing me to him and the night air as he moves lower.

He places another soft kiss to my center through the soaked underwear and looks up at me. “Is it the car or me?” he dares to ask.

“The car,” I tease him and it only makes him more determined. I’ve never done anything like this before, and my heart is beating through my chest as he bites down gently. He pulls the fabric to the side with his teeth and lets out a deep groan as he sucks my clit between his lips.

My brain can’t believe I’m letting him do this on the side of the road, but my stomach flips at the contact, turning my thoughts fuzzy and useless. Rain slips down my leg, coating me and him as he laps at my core.

His hands squeeze my thighs as he devours me like he’s starving for it. Cars pass by but neither of us care as he spreads my legs wider, diving deeper with his tongue. I push my fingers into his hair to ground myself in reality as his own trail down the back of my thigh.

Riggs covers me completely, sealing his lips around my clit and sucking deeply. His tongue is flat against my entrance, pressing inside me before he breaks away to lick up my center. He hungrily swallows my wetness that’s mixed with the rain.

“You taste too good,” he murmurs, his tongue brushing over his bottom lip.

“Don’t stop.” I sound pathetic but I’m long past feeling shame for begging. When he’s between my thighs it’s like the world melts away and I have a moment of peace just to myself.

That’s why he’s doing this, to bring us both back to the center.

Where we were before tonight happened.

Riggs smirks against my thigh before going back to the task at hand. He uses his thumbs to spread me apart, pushing his tongue past my entrance, licking everything he can touch and swallowing me down. He hooks his fingers inside of me, curling them against that spot that makes my toes curl. His mouth returns to my clit, sucking hard while he pumps in and out. The rain is pouring down around us, soaking everything it can touch and drowning out the short, breathless moans that fall from me.

My back arches against the seat, the uncomfortable plastic of the center well digging into my skin as he adds another finger. My orgasm builds quickly, sparking like a wildfire as it consumes everything inside me. I grasp at his hair and dig my fingers into his arm looped around my thigh desperate to ground myself.

Riggs groans deeply as I come. I squeeze around his fingers tightly as my mouth drops open in relief. He keeps sucking and flicking his tongue until I’m completely wrung out and breathless before he pulls back slowly, licking his lips and looking up at me with dark, hungry eyes. He cleans off his fingers, licking them clean without breaking eye contact.

He backs up and turns me back into the passenger seat before jogging back to his seat and dives inside, still soaking wet.