Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

Riggs

"Riggs," she moans softly.

I want to know every detail of what has her calling out my name in her dreams, what has her eyes moving beneath her eyelids, her lips parting on unsteady breaths, her ass pushing back and undulating against my cock.

"Riggs," she moans again.

Christ.

I tighten my arms around her curvy body, bury my face in her hair and inhale deeply. I don't know what magical shampoo she uses, but her hair always smells incredible.

And thankfully, holding her close seems to have calmed her.

She's motionless in my arms, her breathing evened out, slow and steady and calm.

I hold her while trying to plan what my next steps should be.

We have a game tonight and she likely has clients, but I can't just wake up and go on with my life like the last few days haven't happened.

Her father— God , I want to hunt him down and beat him to a pulp.

Which is illegal and would take me away from the woman I love, so is likely the wrong solution to the problem I'm pondering. So, I need to plan. I need to talk to Knox, need to be here for Ella, need to…

Take her pain away.

But, as much as I want to, I can't just make it disappear like a fucking magic trick.

"Riggs."

Not a moan.

I look down, see that her eyes are open.

"Morning, chérie ."

Her lids slide closed, but not before I see another glimmer of guilt and pain and fear.

And I know I'm not going to get any further right now with this.

It'll just take time.

I smooth back her hair. "Think I can tempt you into making me some of those muffins from the other day?"

She went stiff when I first started speaking but then softens, her mouth tipping up. "One night at your house and you're already trying to get me in the kitchen?"

"Damn right," I murmur, lightly swatting her ass.

"Rude."

"I'll show you rude ," I say, nudging her to her back, rolling on top of her.

She parts her legs, letting me in, allowing me to settle my pelvis against hers. Smooth skin, hot flesh, lapis eyes deepening to a deep Tahoe blue. "You can show me rude and naked and hard," she murmurs, running a hand down my chest?—

And then freezing, guilt creeping back into her eyes.

Damn.

I take her hand, bring it back to my chest. "You've got to stop, baby."

An exhale, eyes sliding closed. "I can't. I keep thinking about what I did and what I said to Kit and?—"

"What happened with Kit?"

She shakes her head, expression one of complete and utter misery. "You'll hate me as much as he does."

"Baby," I say, shifting us so she's cradled against my chest. "Tell me."

"I can't," she whispers.

"Kit is your friend. He cares about you. He knows that you're not perfect," I say softly. "You apologize. You accept that he might be upset for a while, but you're not the first person in the world to make a mistake and you love him, chérie . He'll come around."

She groans, drops her head against my shoulder. "I'm supposed to be the person who fixes everyone else's lives."

"Sucks to be the one needing the fixing, huh?"

Her head pops up, nose wrinkled adorably. "What do you know about needing to be fixed, Mr. Perfect? You're emotionally adjusted," she answers before I can remind her of my own heavy baggage and the memories that crop up at the worst possible times. "You don't fly off half-cocked and say and do terrible things. You don't?—"

"I didn't push you away?" I counter, tilting her head up so that she has to look at me. "I didn't hurt you?"

"It's different."

"It's the same , chérie . We're human. We fuck up. We apologize, do our best to make it right, and then we move on."

"You make it sound easy."

I laugh. "It's fucking hard, baby. But my dad's lived his life in this cycle—hurting the people he cares, feeling guilty, then doing the whole damned thing again. The difference is that he never gets to the making it right part. He just skips right over that and moves on." I shake my head.

"Knox says your dad is an asshole."

Amusement bubbles up in my chest. "He is." I sigh. "But then he has these moments where he's awesome, where he's my dad again—though they've come less and less frequently over the last few years."

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.