Page 26 of Riggs
He kisses the corner of my mouth, my jaw, the spot below my ear that turns my brain to static. Heat pours through me, steady, velvet, not frantic. His fingers skim under the hem of my T-shirt,just at my waist. I arch into his hand and he swallows a sound that makes me want to undo every button he owns.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to mine.
“Not a chance,” I whisper. “Tell me to breathe.”
He laughs, and it’s rough and wrecked and my new favorite thing. He kisses me again, slower, and the movie becomes pure background to the way he kisses me with patience, to the way my hands memorize his back.
We break when oxygen starts filing HR complaints. He rests his weight on his forearm and stares at me like I’m a sunrise he didn’t plan for. I smooth his shirt where I wrinkled it and don’t apologize.
“I don’t want to stop, but I know I should,” he whispers.
Something happens deep within my chest. “Don’t stop,” I say back, confident in the fact that I want this man more than anything else this world has to offer.
His eyes widen, and then turn pitch black. “You’re so fucking pretty. I see why the whole world wants to follow you.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “WhyIwant to follow you.”
9
Riggs
First rule of security protection detail, don’t fall for an asset. I don’t know how it happened. I’ve never been a man who has never followed protocol. I’ve always been one to make sure that all the rules are followed.
Dean met his wife while on a mission to keep her safe. Sawyer met Camille a few months ago while assigned to protect her.
I’ve heard of it happening before with other men who work for Maddox Security. Boone, Orion, Lincoln, Ranger, even Asher fell in love last summer while pretending to date the daughter of a wealthy businessman.
And now here I am. Is it love? Fuck, it might be. It most likely is. Who am I kidding? How can you not take one look at Vanessa Mercado and not fall in love with her.
My body’s a livewire, ready to explode. I move over top of her, gazing into her eyes.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” I tell her truthfully.
“How long?”
“Since the moment you walked into Camille’s house that day. I knew you were trouble.”
She laughs lightly, and I thrust my body against hers. “The good kind of trouble I hope.”
I smile wider. “The best kind.”
There’s too many clothes between us. I stand from the bed, moving closer. I gaze down at Vanessa in the bed, her dark hair splayed out along the pillow.
She’s fucking gorgeous. And she knows it. Her eyes clock my movements, and I lower my pants, doing a little striptease just for her.
I peel my shirt over my head and drop it, the cotton whispering across the floorboards, then thumb open my belt and step out of my pants. Cool air skims over sweat-warmed skin; the lamplight catches every line I’ve earned—shoulders cut from a thousand presses, the rope of my forearms, the old scar that tracks my left rib like a map crease. She inhales, sharp and helpless.
“Wow,” she breathes, eyes wide and hungry. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many muscles on a man before.”
Pride hits dead center in my chest, a heavy, satisfied thud. Every predawn lift, every mile under weight, every hour grinding through drills feels worth it for the way she’s looking at me now. I let her stare. I soak it in, greedy for the way her gaze roams slow—collarbone, chest, the cut of my abdomen, lower—heat blooming wherever her attention lands.
“Come here,” I tell her, voice low.
She rises from the bed like a tide, unhurried, hips rolling the smallest bit without trying. Fingers toy with the hem of her shirt, a teasing lift that shows an inch of warm skin, then two, as she closes the distance. Her mouth is still kiss-bruised, the color deep and perfect. Her hair is a beautiful mess I put there and want to get lost in again. We end up toe-to-toe, breath sharing the same inch of air, and I can’t help the curve that pulls at my mouth as I tip my chin down to meet her eyes.
“You’ve got way too many clothes on for my liking.” I lift her shirt over her head, and she laughs lightly.
I step back, her full breasts on display for me. “I’ve been dreaming about these for months.” I cup one breast in my hand, and glide a thumb over her nipple. It pebbles right before my eyes, and I lean in to capture it with my mouth.
Her arms fly around my neck, her fingers digging into my thick hair. “Yes, Riggs.” She moans as I suck her nipple between my teeth.
