Page 14 of Riggs
He does, and the drizzle disappears; the city disappears; my body becomes a map where his mouth draws the route home. It’s not an airport-tactical kiss; it’s a this-is-what-it’s-like-when-no-one-has-a-camera kiss. My hands slide up his chest and around his neck; his palms bracket my hips, pulling me closer, like he can’t help himself. For a second I think:This is what we’ll look like in every photo we never post.
He breaks away first, forehead resting against mine, breath rough. “We can’t,” he says, and the way he says it is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“I know.” I press my palm to his chest, feel the steady drum there and memorize the tempo. “But I’m not going to pretend I don’t want it.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Noted.”
We go back in before the room misses us. He plants me in the booth and takes a slow loop to the bar under the guise of paying the tab, which I know is code for a perimeter check. He talks to the bartender, smiles for exactly two seconds at something the man says, and returns with a small white to-go box.
“Chocolate torte,” he explains when I lift a brow. “For later. You’re going to say you don’t want it. You’ll want it.”
“You’re learning,” I tease.
“Maybe I pay attention.”
We head for the elevators shoulder to shoulder, fingers almost touching, but not quite.
In the polished metal of the doors I see us doubled—tall, dark, dangerous and bright, trouble wrapped in velvet. When thedoors close, the space narrows to the soft ping of floors and our too-loud breaths.
He unlocks our door, does a quick sweep born of muscle memory, then posts up by the window and looks at me with that steady, quiet something that has nothing to do with ring lights and everything to do with the fact that he promised to get me here and did. One room, one king bed, rain ticking at the glass like a metronome.
“Goodnight, Vanessa,” he says—my name in his mouth is heat.
“Goodnight, Riggs.”
He heads into the bathroom to shower while I get ready for bed. I haven’t shared a hotel room with a stranger in… well, forever. I try a few deep breathing exercises to calm myself down, and when he’s out of the bathroom, I dip in to brush my teeth.
Once I exit, he’s in nothing but his boxer-briefs, and I nearly choke at the sight of him.Oh my.“Your six-pack has a six-pack,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
Riggs balks out a short, quick laugh. “Um, thanks.”
My eyes blow wide at the sight of him. His chest is all smooth muscles and tanned skin. It’s like I’m staring at the epitome of a Greek god. I stare at the bed when I realize I’ve been staring too long.
“I’ll take the chair,” he starts.
“Don’t,” I say, fingers catching his wrist. “Just… stay.” The word lands between us like a truce.
He hesitates, then tows his go-bag closer to the nightstand. We both slide under the covers, and I dig the to-go box out of mytote, crack the lid, and break the torte with a fork. “You were right,” I murmur, offering him a bite. He takes it from my fingers, eyes on mine, and something low in my chest lights up.
“I usually am,” he says, deadpan, and I laugh.
When we’re done sharing dessert, which is so intimate… I do not recommend with someone you’re only fake dating, we settle into the bed. Together.
I queue a delayed post on the secure phone, and then set it facedown and curl closer. Wishing more than anything I could have this man for real.
5
Riggs
I wake to rain ticking the window and heat tucked under my arm. For one unguarded second, I just…slow down. Vanessa is curled against me, breath warm at my throat, hair a dark spill on my bicep, my hand already splayed over her waist like it chose before my brain caught up.
I’m half-tempted to break my own rules.
Then the second ends.
Mission. I ease my arm out, lay her back into the pillow she stole from me, and stand. Sweep first: door wedge still in, latch intact, slider locked with the anti-lift I set. Hallway quiet. I flick through the morning briefs on the secure phone while the kettle hums. Rae’s overnight:
Rae: StreamLite tech (Jared) ghosted again from a different device—blocked now. Sponsor rep “Caleb” searched Vanessa’s travel tag on Slack at 02:14, deleted.
