Page 94 of Ride or Die

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You’re not.”

She swallowed over a sob. “I’m going to be. I just—”

He brushed his lips over her forehead. “It’s okay.”

She exhaled the stairwell dust and smell of cinnamon and watched them go down the drain.

She reached between them, guiding his hard length to her. He held them up, keeping her from sinking down onto him.

“You’re sure? I’ve been tested, but you’ve been thr—”

“Yes, yes.”

She blinked water from her eyes, panting, and looked up at him, showing him she needed this. His eyes tracked between hers for a moment, and then he lowered her, pressing his hips forward.

The pressure and stretch were a throbbing counterpoint to her stinging eyes and sore throat. He slid in, slow, agonizing.

“I’m right here,” he promised, rocking into her. “Stay here too.”

A sob of relief broke her, and her tears were salty. He kissed her, breathing her in, and drove the tension from her body.

He resettled her in his arms, and she pulled them tighter, her ankles crossed behind his low back.

“That’s a girl.”

Riley’s eyes drifted shut as pressure and relief shifted to craving. She breathed heavier, cedar and warmth coiling low in her gut.

Yes.

They moved together, driving higher until she gasped with every slow, deep thrust. His eyes never left hers, keeping her in the moment with him.

Exactly what she needed.

She tipped over the edge in slow motion, voice hoarse as it bounced against the glass. He joined her, growling into her shoulder as he slowed. He held her until she stopped shaking, murmuring comfort into her hair, telling her how perfect she was. The water started to cool, and he let her down, smoothing her hair off her face and kissing her on the forehead.

She didn’t let him go, shielding her face against the water as he ran soapy hands over her body, between her legs, along her arms. He washed her hair. She blinked water out of her eyes, drew the steam into her lungs, and willed it to stay there.



Saint

Saint watched Riley roll the waist of his sweatpants several times to make them fit, and handed her the black hoodie she’d left in the bathroom. Damp hair curled around her face, which was still a bit paler than he would have liked. She’d given up on saying she was fine every time she caught him staring.

He’d trusted her in the shower, and now she moved easier, breathed deeper. It was an improvement, but she wasn’t okay.

“Are you hungry?”

She didn’t look at him. “No.”

He rolled his shoulders, settling the tension that would linger until he… no.

“Will you eat?” he asked, keeping the growl out of his voice. Her eyes cut to his, lip swollen from the cut and their kissing.

“Maybe.”

The vicious bruise on her arm flashed as she pulled the sweater on.