Page 94 of Caught from Behind

He’s completing his metamorphosis into grumpy old man.

“Ever since our fight, I haven’t been able to bring myself to pick up the phone,” I tell her. “Even before that, it was hard. I never knew if I was going to get the asshole or the dad I knew growing up.”

“Honey,” she whispers.

“It used to derail me—” I pause, laugh, but it’s not one of amusement. “Hell, who am I kidding? It still derails me. Mostly because I think that I’m prepared for it, but I never am.”

I see it then.

The softening, knowing that she knows I understand the whirlwind of emotions our shitty parents can churn up in us. “Riggs,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

All that she’s feeling.

All that’s in her heart.

“No,” she says. “You don’t. I…”

But she falters and I can’t bring myself to leave her to struggle. “You’ll make me muffins?” I ask hopefully.

She smiles, and it’s another gift, another piece to hold close and safe. Her hand lifts to my cheek, fingers stroking through the strands of my beard to press against my skin. “Yeah, honey,” she murmurs. “I’ll make you muffins.”

“Yes!” I fist-pump then wrap my arms around her and draw her to me, settling my forehead against hers. “Now,” I order. “No more apologies. No more being hesitant to touch me.”

A flare of emotion in those Tahoe blue eyes.

But…

She nods, relaxes against me, free hand lifting to rest above my heart.

We stay like that for a long moment.

And then she shifts enough to press her lips to mine.

And…

I fall in love with her again. With her courage and strength. With her big heart and emotions that are intense enough to take my breath away.

But mostly, I know that I’ve fallen in love with this imperfectly perfect woman.

And I’m never letting her go.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ella

“Well,” I say on a sigh after surveying the contents of Riggs’s pantry, “it’s hard to make muffins without flour or sugar.” I shift in front of his big, strong body, soaking in the feel of his strength caressing along the tips of my breasts, the fronts of my thighs before shifting to rest against my back as I peer into the fridge. “And butter,” I add. “Or eggs.”

“Sorry, chérie.” He reaches past me and shuts the door, moving us to the side and pinning me against the counter, one hand on either side of my hips. I’m surrounded by him and it’s fucking beautiful. “I was going to go grocery shopping when I got back from the road trip,” he says. “But…”

He didn’t get to that because I was being a giant jerk to everyone I care about and then hiding out.

Right.

Fun times.

“Enough,” he mutters, but before I have the chance to ask him enough of what, he turns, sweeping me up into his arms and setting me on the kitchen counter. His lips seal over mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth, and then he’s kissing me like I’m the source of his oxygen, his life, his future.

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