Page 42 of Riot

I looked at the door. Then at him. Then at my hands, which had stopped shaking at some point during the fur-petting portion of the evening. “I’m not running. That’s something, right?”

“It’s everything.”

His hand covered mine on the comforter. The touch was gentle, barely there, like he was still giving me space to pull away if I needed to.

I turned my hand over and laced our fingers together.

“My mate,” Riot said. “Same thing as a unicorn. A ride-or-die partner.”

“Someone who makes you feel seen.” I glanced up at him. “You’ve made me feel seen since the first time you looked at me in the rec center. My insides lit up brightly.”

“Me, too, unicorn.”

I laughed as that single word made me light up like the moon.

Chapter Ten

Calvin

Riot’s bare chest rose and fell with steady breaths, but his eyes had gone dark, pupils nearly swallowing the warm brown.

“You’re serious,” I said.

“Don’t say things I don’t mean.”

My fingers found the hem of my shirt before my brain caught up. The fabric slid over my head, catching briefly on my ears before I yanked it free. Cool air hit my skin, raising goosebumps. Riot watched every movement, his gaze tracking from my collarbone down to my stomach.

“Your turn,” he said, voice low.

“Already did my part.” But my hands were moving again, working at my belt. The buckle clinked, loud in the quiet room. My jeans slid down my legs, pooling at my ankles. I kicked them free then hesitated with my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my boxers.

Riot leaned back on his palms, giving me space. Waiting. The calm in his expression steadied something shaky inside me.

“You’re still wearing too much,” I said.

Without breaking eye contact, he shoved his briefs down and off. Then he was naked again, and I was staring again, and the heat pooling low in my stomach spread outward until my skin felt too tight.

“Better?” His mouth curved.

“Getting there.”

I pushed my own underwear down, and his smile faded into something hungrier. His gaze traveled the length of my body with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“Come here, Calvin.”

I crossed the small space between us, my bare feet silent on the rug. Riot reached up and caught my hip, pulling me to stand between his spread thighs. His palm was warm against my skin, rough with calluses. The touch sent electricity racing up my side.

Bending down, he pressed his mouth to my stomach, just below my navel. The kiss was soft, reverent, nothing like the desperate kiss in the driveway. His beard scraped gently, and my stomach muscles jumped under his lips.

“Been thinking about this,” he murmured against my skin. “Touching you. Tasting you.”

My hand found the back of his head, my fingers threading through his hair. “How long?”

“Since the cookout.” Another kiss, lower this time. “Since you walked through that gate looking like you belonged there.” His mouth moved to my hip bone, his teeth grazing the ridge. “Since you stood next to me at the food table and pretended you weren’t watching me just as hard.”

A laugh escaped me, breathless and surprised. “I wasn’t pretending very well.”

“No.” His hands slid up the backs of my thighs, squeezing gently. “You weren’t.”