Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Riggs

For a second, she freezes and I half expect her to stop me from moving over her, halting to ask me if I'm okay, if I know what I'm doing when it comes to this.

But even as her lips part and I can practically see the question bubbling to the tip of her tongue, that plump mouth closes, curves up at the edges instead. "Is that five in the morning every day?"

"Not after a game," I say, attention wavering because now she's stroking a hand down my bare chest, drifting toward the button of the jeans I hadn't taken off the night before. "Or after a travel day, but?—"

Silky fingertips sliding further south, slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans.

"Just every other day?" she asks when I don't go on, working her hand into my underwear.

Her fingers are barely an inch away from my cock now.

Still, I don't miss that she's watching me carefully.

I know it's because of last night.

But…I'm okay.

This isn't…well it isn't that night.

It's morning and we're both stone-cold sober. My head isn't spinning and her touch doesn't feel wrong and?—

And the sun is shining through the windows.

And I spent all night with her in my arms.

And I just learned that she's not a morning person.

I lean down, brush my lips over her forehead, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

And…she gave me a piece of her —one she doesn't show the rest of the world.

Bright, smart, sassy Ella gave me a tiny glimmer of the woman beneath the veneer.

Eight alarms to coax her out of bed. Super grumpy and doesn't want to chat while yanking the covers over her head and burrowing into her pillow—when the woman I've known has never met a conversation she doesn't like.

But…still Ella—or at least the Ella that I'm desperate to learn.

Her fingers wiggle, the tips teasing the head of my cock and sending it from morning wood to rock fucking hard—truthfully, not an uncommon state when I'm around this woman.

"Just every other day," I agree, my voice a rasp as I try not to thrust into her palm, try to focus on the conversation about alarms.

And now not interested in it in the least.

Because her hand—not the one that's so close to tightly holding my cock, but her other one—lifts, resting against my cheek, and that gentle touch steals every single thought from my brain, cock or alarm-related or otherwise. "You're exactly what I thought you were, Riggs Ashford."

My heart rolls over in my chest.

If it came from anyone else, I wouldn't take that as a compliment.

I'd be searching for something hidden and underhanded and cutting within those words, some insult I should deduce.

But…that's not Ella.

It's why I've been borderline obsessed with her from the first time Knox introduced us.

Beautiful. Bright. Guileless.

Everything that's been absent in my life over the last few years.

And I've been a fly to the proverbial honey ever since.

Ready and willing to be ensnared in the sweet, sticky substance of her.

I lift a shoulder, still desperate to focus. "I am who I am."

"No," she murmurs. "You're more ."

My heart goes again, but before I can react, she does what she always does.

Keeps me on my toes.

Pivoting the conversation so quickly that my head spins?—

"Am I going to finally get to see what you're packing?" she teases, one hand still on my jaw, her touch still gentle. But her other's moving now, swirling a fingertip in the damp bead of precum that's seeped from my dick, spreading it over the head of my cock, instantly arrowing in on and stroking the most sensitive spot, finding it like it's her superpower.

My dick convulses, pleasure exploding through me. I grind my teeth together so fiercely that a bolt of pain shoots through my jaw. Christ . I'm going to have to be careful, if only because this is going to go very fast unless I get myself under control.

"I'd rather become familiar with what you're packing," I murmur, reaching down and tugging her hand from my jeans, pressing a kiss to her palm and lifting it over her head.

"I'm not packing any?—"

I drop my mouth to hers, taking advantage of her parted lips to kiss her exactly as I've wanted to since the moment I got my first taste of her in my car.

Deep and wet and with lots and lots of tongue.

I could keep kissing her for an eternity, and maybe I do, but eventually she plants a hand in the middle of my chest and shoves me back.

"Air," she gasps.

"Fuck that," I say, taking her mouth on another drugging kiss. "Fuck oxygen. I can survive on you."

Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, reddened from my beard. "Riggs," she moans softly.

Fuck. I want to kiss her all over, spread that flush along her body, piece by piece.

And I can.

She's here.

She wants me.

Another bolt of desire blasts through me, threatening to undo my control, but I focus enough to coax her fingers around one of the wooden slats of the headboard, repeating the same with her other hand, pressing down lightly so she understands, even if the words don't process. "Don't let go, chérie ."

She shivers, cheeks flushed, eyes half mast, upper body arched, those lush breasts of hers pushing against the tee she'd slept in.

My tee.

That she swept up and stole from the floor the night before, disappearing into the bathroom and coming out with it dwarfing her, the hem stopping at mid-thigh, leaving miles and miles of skin on display.

Now it's rucked up around her waist, giving me a glimpse of even more bare skin, of a plump pussy that's barely covered by a strip of colorfully patterned cotton.

Right.

Kissing her all over.

All fucking over.

Still, I force myself to start slowly, pressing my lips to her forehead, to both cheeks, to the hinge of her jaw.

More shivers, her body shifting restlessly—something that increases when I nibble at her earlobe, when I kiss the sensitive spot just behind?—

A hand lands on my back and I freeze, lifting my head.

God, she's pretty.

But I'm not sure what the touch means.

"Want to stop?" I ask quietly, holding her gaze, staring deep into the pools of vibrant blue, searching for any bit of hesitancy.

I don't see any.

But that's not a surprise.

Ella's not hesitant.

Not ever.

And, thank fuck, not now either.

Her nails bite lightly into my back. "No, but?—"

I bend down, suck at the beaded nub of her nipple that's pressing against the fabric of my tee.

She gasps, both hands going to my hair, clutching tightly.

I let her have that, but only for a second, only because I want this shirt off her.

I break away from her breast, lift up enough to reach for the hem of my tee, yanking it up and over her head, tossing it to the side, and?—

Christ.

She's beautiful.

So fucking beautiful.

She reaches for me again, but I capture her hands, drawing them up to the headboard again. "Keep them there."

"Riggs—"

I nip at her bottom lip. "Keep. Them. There ."

Her lips part, begging to be tasted again, pink growing in her cheeks, but she continues holding on to the wood, back arching, breasts on perfect display for me.

I bend, kiss that pouty mouth, and then drag my lips down her throat, the rough hitch of her breaths tickling my ear.

Further.

Lower.

Slower.

I kiss my way along each collarbone, lave the soft indent at the base of her throat, then go further, tasting the rainbows adorning her skin from the sunshine streaming through the windows.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Vi?—

"Oh God!" she cries as I suckle on her nipple, drawing the hardened tip deep, while I caress her other breast, rolling the peak between thumb and forefinger.

That hand hits my spine again, and I freeze, look up at her.

Eyes half-mast. Cheeks bright red. Mouth swollen. Whisker burn on her throat. Hair tangled and splayed out on her pillow. Delicate collarbones. Gorgeous breasts. The soft curve of her belly.

Narrow hips I need to hold on to as I fuck her hard and deep.

Strong legs—not a surprise considering she's on her feet all day—that I want wrapped around my waist, tightening with each of my thrusts.

In a word…she's a fucking goddess.

" Chérie ," I warn, the hot puff of the word on her breast making her shiver.

Those desire-filled eyes slowly focus on mine.

"Keep. Them. There ."

More desire. More proof that she likes my orders.

More blood flowing to my dick and eroding my control.

Especially when she reaches overhead, when she grips the headboard.

But, as usual, Ella takes me by surprise…

She wraps her legs around my waist, her hot pussy brushing my stomach, her lips coming to my ear, tongue flicking out, and?—

The last of my control unravels.