The country jamboree. Drake’s least favorite event in the social season – not including anything involving Olivia Nevrakis, of course. Still, Drake walked out of his room that day feeling cheerful; yesterday had been a success in terms of being friends with Riley.
You did have to hold yourself back from kissing her a couple times.
But did I? Nope! And that is success in my book. I’m gonna do it; I’m gonna beat this crush.
He whistled an improvised tune as he strode out after brunch to find a beautiful sunny day. Remembering their last interaction, he magnanimously decided to go talk to Bastien, who was standing at the gates.
“Bastien.” Okay, so he wasn’t completely ready to forgive him.
“Drake! It’s good to see you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I was short with you the other day.”
“See, that’s how Liam put it too, but I think I’d use a different word.”
Bastien frowned. “… A dick?”
“Ding ding ding!”
“I suppose that’s not far from the truth,” said Bastien ruefully. “Well, as I said, I’m very sorry. I just hope you can understand that…”
Bastien seemed to be having difficulty speaking; if Drake didn’t know any better he’d think there was a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard.
“I hope you understand that duty will always come first.”
Drake clapped his back. “Hey, you know I totally get that! I understand you can’t always talk! Only next time, maybe instead of being a dick you could just say that, okay?”
Bastien sighed. “Yes. I will.”
Drake smiled at him and turned to leave.
“Drake,” he heard behind him. He turned to look at Bastien squinting from the sun. “I really am sorry.”
Drake nodded, still smiling in hopes of reassuring Bastien, who was taking this way too seriously, in his opinion.
He ambled back towards the manor, not ready to face the jamboree with its variety of stupid games. That I suck at. Once he got closer to the enormous wooden doors, he could hear someone coming down the stairs. He stopped and waited; he wouldn’t say no to company either way. He realized with a stab of annoyance that he was hoping it was Riley.
Okay, stop. Whoever that is, I’m gonna keep rocking this friendship thing.
It was maybe because he mentally prepared himself this way that he only felt a small hint of dismay when Hana emerged from the threshold. He quickly covered it up with an easy smile.
“Hey, Hana!”
“Hi!”
If he’d been smiling it was nothing to the way Hana was grinning from ear to ear.
“Uh, why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what? Oh!” Hana’s hands flew to her cheeks as if she hadn’t realized what she’d been doing.
For a brief, awful moment Drake thought something might have happened with Riley. He pushed the image aside, chastising himself both for his selfishness – Friends want their friends to be happy! – and for indulging his crush – Friends don’t care who their friends kiss!
I’ve definitely been quiet for too long.
“So are you gonna tell me or what?” It came out harsher than he’d intended in his haste to say something.
Hana’s smile faltered a bit, “Oh. Yes, sorry. My Mom called and she-she was making me feel dreadful; she said I was being a disappointment and that I shouldn’t be making friends at court…“
Drake grimaced sympathetically.
“Yes, it was very distressing. Until Riley,” at this point her smile came back in full force, “intervened. She reminded me that this is my life and my choices and… well, she essentially gave me the courage to stand up to her for the first time in my life!”
Hana looked so utterly happy that it was contagious. Drake found himself grinning along with her and feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his chest.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Despite the pain.”
Drake tilted his head, completely nonplussed, “Huh?”
“Liking someone so deserving of it.”
That’s exactly what it was. Every time he heard of Riley doing something kind or intelligent – which is all the time, dammit – he couldn’t help but feel… joy. It was like an extreme form of pride, in a way. Proud of himself for having a crush on such an amazing person; proud of her for being that amazing person.
He just sighed and nodded. It’s not looking good for our friendship. Pretty sure I’m gonna start writing poetry or some shit.
“Well, thanks for checking in on me, Drake, but I should go. I only went into the manor to get bandaids.”
For the first time, he noticed Hana was holding a small box of bandaids.
“Maxwell,” he said without any doubt.
“At the archery station. What I don’t understand is how he managed to hurt himself with a bow…” Hana shook her head, mystified.
Drake shrugged. “This is Maxwell we’re talking about. We should feel lucky we only need bandaids and not paramedics!”
Hana giggled, “That’s what Riley said!”
Drake chuckled. “Great minds and whatever. But anyway, I shouldn’t keep you, go save that kid’s life.”
Hana hurried off toward the games. Drake stood there for a moment, trying to get back to the calm, certain headspace he’d been in until a few minutes ago. Maybe if I just spend some time with her as friends, I can remind myself what it’s supposed to be like.
With that goal in mind, he directed his steps to where Hana had gone, positive that Riley would be playing something; in the thick of the action, as usual.
He was right, and he immediately wished he hadn’t been, for Riley and Liam were playing a very flirty game of ring toss. He stopped abruptly when he spotted them, then moved to the side so he could watch them from a less conspicuous place. Like a masochist stalker.
In fact, the game was just ending and it seemed Riley had lost. Finally, something we both suck at! He smiled at that, but it was fleeting, as he saw Riley and Liam make their way, smiling and talking, to the hedge maze. He felt the by-now familiar gut punch he always experienced when he saw them together. This time, however, it seemed to spread from his stomach all the way up to his chest like some kind of poison, eating him alive from the inside.
Goddammit. Who the fuck am I kidding?! I can’t be friends. I can’t. At least, not now.
He stomped back to the manor, wanting nothing more than solitude. And maybe some whiskey and dramatic music to go along with it. He must have been making a racket because he heard a voice call from the sitting room.
“Who’s there?”
He poked his head in and found Lady Kiara sitting in the same armchair she’d been using two days ago.
“Drake! What a pleasant surprise! I thought you’d be out there enjoying the games.”
“Nah, not a big fan. What about you? Shouldn’t you be mingling or something?”
“Bah, and what for? Prince Liam has disappeared again, with Lady Riley I’m sure, and I don’t like those games either.”
“Good point.”
She gestured for him to join her and with halting steps he went to her, sitting uncomfortably on the armrest.
“So… what are you reading this time? More sexy French books?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “No, I have been skimming this landscape photography book.”
“Oh, cool! I love nature.” Drake had to restrain himself from leaving the manor or possibly the country after that. Really? I love nature? How fucking interesting, idiot.
Lady Kiara was gracious enough to disguise a derisive laugh as a cough.
“So what kind of landscapes?” he asked in desperation.
“Oh, there’s all sorts! But I am particularly partial to the photographs of the vineyards in California and France. They remind me of my home,” she sounded far away when she said that.
“You have vineyards there?”
She snapped back to reality and turned to look at Drake eagerly. “Oh, yes. We make some of the finest wines in all of Cordonia,” she puffed up with pride. “We might even go toe to toe with the French, en fait.”
“And everybody knows the French make the best wine, right? The more unpronounceable the names the better?” Drake chuckled.
Kiara, on the other hand, did not look amused. “I would hardly say something like Bordeaux is unpronounceable, would you?”
Drake felt his neck grow hot. “I was kidding,” he muttered.
Kiara seemed not to have heard him, still engrossed by the photos. She flipped the page to yet another picturesque vineyard and suddenly her hand was on Drake’s knee. He glanced down at it automatically.
“I wish you could see it! The hot summer days, picking grapes and then crushing them with your feet…” she trailed off, looking up at Drake, whose mouth was inexplicably watering.
“Sounds,” he cleared his throat, “sounds nice.”
“It’s better than nice, c’est magnifique!”
“I-I’m sure.” He peeked down at his phone. “Oh, look, it’s time for dinner!”
“Right.” Kiara’s hand fell from his knee. “Well, let’s go, then.”
Kiara waited for Drake to get up and help her off the armchair. Once she was standing, she cleared her throat, looking pointedly at her arm.
“Oh, uh, yeah!” Drake offered her his arm and they walked out together in what, at least to him, felt like an awkward silence. He had the chance to feel relieved for a few seconds, before he realized they would probably sit together as well.
He was right. He sat down next to her and involuntarily scanned the crowd. It took him longer than usual to find Riley, which he was cautiously pleased about until he came to the conclusion that it was only because of her company. What the hell is she doing with Tariq?
The fashionable noble appeared to be flirting and Riley looked hilariously bewildered. He almost snorted. Riley managed to extract herself from Tariq and took her seat at another table nearby, next to Maxwell and Bertrand.
He was wracking his brains, trying to come up with something to talk about with Lady Kiara, when he heard the blessed sound of a clinking glass.
“If I may have everyone’s attention, please,” came Liam’s voice. “I’d like to say a few words before we close this evening. First, I’d like to thank all of you for joining us out here at the country estate. I’ve had the honor and privilege to have you in my court, and I couldn’t have asked for better company.” He smiled out at the crowd as he said this. It may have been Drake’s bitterness, but he thought he saw Liam’s gaze linger on Riley.
He continued, “As I step into my father’s place in a few days, I can only hope that I’m half the man he’s been for Cordonia.”
“Long live Prince Liam!” Maxwell yelled from his table with cupped hands over his mouth.
Cheers and claps erupted from all around. Yeah, yeah, Liam’s great. Drake couldn’t bring himself to clap.
Liam gestured for everyone to quiet down. “Thank you all. When next we meet like this, it’ll be the last event of the social season. As per tradition, this event will be hosted at the illustrious Beaumont House.”
“Yeeaaahhhhhh!” Maxwell exclaimed with both arms up.
Bertrand, ever the solemn one, agreed, “An honor, to be sure.”
He noticed Riley sharing surprised words with the brothers. Huh. How are they gonna host that? Aren’t they broke?
“The Beaumonts will surely give us another legendary night to remember.”
When Liam said that, Drake felt Kiara’s hand squeeze his leg and nearly jumped out his seat. Looking mildly amused, she whispered, “It could certainly be a night to remember.”
Drake swallowed, although at the same time his mouth felt impossibly dry.
He barely heard Liam finish his toast with, “Until then, I thank you again, and wish you a good night.” He raised his glass and most people followed suit. Feeling guilty for his lack of applause earlier, Drake raised his own.
“Cheers!” Liam said, and the crowd echoed him.
Drake turned to Lady Kiara and as they clinked their glasses together, he murmured, “To legendary nights.”
For a split second, Kiara’s face was delightedly surprised. An instant later, she had regained her composure and was smirking at him.
Fuck, she might really like you. You’re an asshole.
Oh, come on! We’re both consenting adults and clearly there’s nothing I can do about… the other thing, so why shouldn’t I have some fun?!
Whatever, dude, you know what you are.
He drained his champagne in one gulp.
Dinner went by in a blur of delicious food and flirty conversation. Of course, they couldn’t make it too obvious – Kiara had a reputation to maintain, after all – so once in a while she’d turn to her other side to talk to Penelope.
By the time they’d all finished eating, he felt drained. It had been such a long day, and it had taken his emotions for a ride. For someone who for years had felt either bitterness or a lukewarm contentedness, it was a lot.
As soon as it was barely polite to leave, therefore, he scurried away to his room. He lied down on his bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
“Eeeeeeek!”
Something shook him out of his deep sleep. Did someone scream? Or was I dreaming?
He could’ve sworn he heard it come from the room next to his.
Addams’ room. But what if I dreamed it and I barge in there and wake her up? Or even worse, what it she’s awake… with somebody.
He weighed his options and concluded that he could not stay in his room while she might be in danger. And if he embarrassed himself, he embarrassed himself. He got dressed as quickly as he could, which was not very; flustered as he was, he put his pants on back to front and furiously corrected his mistake. Finally decent, he flew out of his room and threw Riley’s door open, caution be damned.
He found Tariq and Riley kissing. Or, should he say, Tariq kissing a very clearly unwilling Riley, who pushed him away as soon as she recovered from the shock.
Anger like he couldn’t remember feeling flooded Drake. Without thinking, he was by Tariq’s side in a second. “Get away from her,” he growled.
He seized Tariq by the shoulder roughly and dragged him away from Riley.
“Unhand me!” wailed the noble. ”How dare you enter my room without my permission!”
Tariq pulled the arm that wasn’t in Drake’s grip back and punched him square in the face. He reeled backwards in shock, his hand going to his jaw right away. He took a moment to get his bearings, then tackled Tariq with all his might. On the floor, he put up more a fight than Drake expected, rolling around and trying to pin him down. Drake struggled against Tariq’s hands and managed to flip him around once more and pin his arms.
Tariq tried to fight back a few more times. He must have known it would be useless though, because he went slack, conceding defeat. Breathing hard, Drake stood up and waited for Tariq to follow, glaring at him, daring him to attack again.
Tariq limited himself to yelling, “Who the hell do you think you are, bursting into my room?”
“This is Riley’s room. And I heard a scream.” For the first time, Drake allowed himself to doubt the conclusion he’d jumped to. “I think she wanted interrupting.”
He turned his head sharply to Riley, dreading she might contradict him.
With fire in her eyes, she replied, “Drake, Tariq deserves to have his ass kicked.”
He sighed in relief.
Tariq seemed to have shrunk. “So this isn’t to be the bold, romantic beginning to our love story?”
Riley crossed her arms and gave him a firm, “No.”
“But… I’d heard…” Tariq was looking at the floor, ashamed and confused. You almost feel for the guy.
“You heard wrong. And for the record, before you try to kiss someone, ask first!” Riley said, her nostrils flaring.
Yeah, never mind, he’s a piece of shit.
Tariq flushed. “Let me deeply apologize here. I’m so sorry for this transgression. I was incredibly wrong.” He started heading to the door. “Now, before I can humiliate myself any further… let me take my leave.”
He left, slamming the door after him.
Riley rounded on him. “Drake, what took you so long?”
Not wanting to go into the details of his clothing mishaps, he answered, “I’m in the room next to yours, but it still took me a minute to make it over here.”
“You’re in the room next to mine? I knew we were hall neighbors but…”
“Of course. Liam made sure of that. Since he couldn’t be here himself, I mean.” And instead of looking out for Addams, you crush on her and fall asleep when she’s in trouble. Nice going. “Liam would never forgive me if something… bad… happened to you.”
There was a small silence and on impulse, he added, “And you know what? I’d never forgive myself, either.”
Having entered the room worried out of his mind and in a rush, he hadn’t had the presence of mind to register that Riley was not wearing a shirt. Until now.
Oh, shit. Ohshitoshitohshitoshit. Don’t be a creep. Don’t look at her. Oh my God, I looked. Holy shit.
She was wearing a lacy pink bra, which contrasted against her pale skin, which was luminous in the moonlit room, and her breasts – Fuck me, her boobs are RIGHT. THERE. – looked incredible. Drake had seen his fair share before, both in real life and in videos, but damn if there weren’t his favorite pair ever. It’s not like he hadn’t checked her out since he’d known her, but this was different. This brought him mental images he didn’t – couldn’t – want.
He licked his lips unconsciously, noticing a beauty mark right at the upper edge of the bra. Okay, that’s enough or she’ll kick you out, too, you perv. Goddamn, this is gonna haunt my dreams.
He cleared his throat, “Er, Addams…”
“What?”
He glanced down again, forcing himself to make it a very quick, significant look.
“OH!” She blushed a deep red and reached to the chair where she’d carelessly thrown her top. She put it on hurriedly, and Drake was satisfied to see he was not the only one who had problems with hastily thrown-on clothes; she’d put her shirt on inside out.
Drake tried to pull his mind away from images of Riley and her bra and focus on the conversation. “Anyway, you can see why it looked bad. I heard a scream, saw you half naked with Tariq all over you…”
“Yeah, I get it.” Riley sank onto her bed.
Drake’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” She sounded shaken. He couldn’t blame her. I wish I could stay and comfort you. I wish I could put my arms around you, but that would be… dangerous.
Instead, he said, “Well, I should get out of here before we really cause a scandal.”
He headed to the door and as he leaned in to grab the handle, he winced. He might have hurt himself tackling Tariq. Man, fuck nobles. Seriously.
He tried to play it off as nothing, grabbing the doorhandle, but of course she’d seen.
“You’re hurt.” He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying her worrying about him as much as he was.
He dropped the handle and turned to her, shrugging, “Nothing a few shots of whiskey won’t fix.”
She stood up and took a couple of steps toward him. “Let me take a look. It’s the least I can do.”
“You trying to get me to take my shirt off, Addams?” he smirked, hoping she’d let it go. I need to get out of here.
She said, “I just want to help,” but blushed again, which made his collar grow warm.
I need to leave NOW. “I’m fine. Save your fussing for someone else.” He turned to the door once more, ready to escape Riley with her eyes full of concern for him, and her lips saying kind words, and her pink fucking bra.
He should’ve known, but he still didn’t expect it when she stepped in front of the door, blocking his way. The look in her eyes let him know he was definitely not going anywhere.
“Drake, you got hurt for me. I’m not letting you leave this room until you let me take a look at you!” She crossed her arms. “You can start by taking off your shirt. I think he hit your ribs pretty hard. They could be broken!”
Drake scoffed. “Wow, you’ve got a real bossy side to you, you know that?”
She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m being bossy? Drake, I’m taking that shirt off you myself.”
Before he could utter anything other than a startled, “Hey…” he felt small, warm hands grab the hem of his shirt and lift it. He cooperated and took it off, trying his best not to think about how much he’d like her to say that in a different context.
“So, doctor, do you see anything alarming?”
Her hands ghosted over his ribs and then his back. He suppressed a shudder.
“You’re going to have a few spectacular bruises…” she grimaced.
“Yeah, Tariq hits harder than you’d think. He almost impressed me.”
She didn’t say anything back but he thought he saw the corners of her lips twitch.
He narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”
Riley snorted. “I can’t believe you lost a fight to Tariq!”
It took Drake’s wounded pride a moment to recover from that. “I didn’t say I lost! I never said that. I definitely won. I’m just saying he got in some good hits. And I didn’t expect that from a palace brat.”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
He shook his head at her and ran his fingers through his hair.
“You can be so…” Irritating? Funny? Smart? Fucking incredible? … Yeah, I’d better shut up. “Never mind.” He cast about for a distraction. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to be tending to my wounds?”
Riley smacked a hand to her forehead. “Oh! Right. I think one of the servants fills this bucket with ice every night. You know, in case I need to chill some champagne…” She said the last part in a mockingly snobby voice.
“Or ice down a friend’s bruises.” He knew at this point that friendship was all but futile, but he was going down fighting.
“Exactly.”
Drake noticed a small cabinet on the opposite end of the room. “And it looks like someone’s left a fully stocked liquor cabinet in the corner here, so…”
He went to it and poured himself a glass of whiskey – one the finest, obviously – and looked over at Riley, who was putting ice in a cloth.
She nodded, “I’ll have whiskey. I wouldn’t make you drink alone.”
He smiled. “Heh. Thanks.”
He poured another one and handed it to her. She put it on the bedside table so she could more easily handle the improvised ice pack. She pressed it on his ribs and he hissed in pain.
“Hey! That hurts.”
He regretted the words as soon as he said it. Knowing Addams, she’s gonna crush the ice against my body now. Yet, to his surprise, she touched it to his wound much more gently. It still stung, but not nearly as much. Will she ever stop amazing me?
“Is that better?” she asked tenderly.
“… Actually, yeah. Didn’t realize you could be so gentle, Addams.”
“I’ve got a gentle side… you just don’t see it very often.” She continued patting him softly with the ice pack. Occasionally, she would rub her thumb soothingly over the areas she’d gone over. He knew he had the dumbest smile on his face.
“I could stand to see more of it.” It was meant as a jab at first, then he realized he would actually love to see that side of her more. Just him. He looked in her eyes and, for the umpteenth time, felt he might ruin everything if he held her gaze for too long.
He looked down at his glass and muttered, “Thank you.”
He drained it and went to pour himself more. Bad idea.
“I know I don’t act very grateful for anything most of the time, but I do… care about you.” He’d said it before, only this time it felt more high stakes. They were alone and unlikely to be interrupted. He was shirtless. He shouldn’t be saying anything at all.
She moved a step closer and murmured, “Drake, I care about you too.”
She had also said this before, but this felt… different. There was an ache in her voice he hadn’t noticed before. You’re imagining things. How can she even care about you? “You… you do?”
Her answer came without hesitation and full of conviction. “Yes.”
He rubbed his face and clenched his jaw. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Addams.”
“Why not?” He knew her more than well enough by now to see that she was honestly puzzled. That’s how he knew she cared about him only as a friend. Hell, I’ll explain it anyway. He was in too deep and the whiskey, though not enough to get him drunk, had certainly encouraged him.
“You’re here for Prince Liam. All of the suitors are. And, well, so is the entire court. All of the nobles, all of the royals, all of the servants, even. Everything and everyone in this place exists to orbit around Liam. You could almost hate him for it, if he weren’t so damned likeable.” He shook his head. “It’s dangerous for people like you and me to forget that.” Mostly me, really.
Riley still looked confused, but there was something else in her expression. Drake wouldn’t have believed it, except he’d become so closely acquainted with that emotion lately that there was no mistaking it: hope.
“What are you getting at, Drake?”
He sighed. Are you happy in this hole you dug for yourself? “Hell, Addams. Don’t make me say it.”
He looked down at his glass again. Here goes nothing. He finished his drink again and set his empty glass down next to her full one. His hand was trembling.
“If we’d met somewhere else… anywhere else. At a club in New York, or in an airport, or at a party… If you hadn’t been our waitress that night, and I hadn’t been sitting next to Liam…” He mustered all of his courage, balling up his fists.
“Do you think all of this… do you think it could’ve been different…” he swallowed, “between us?”
Say no. Just say no and kick me out. Do it.
“Drake…” she said slowly. “It would’ve been different.”
Drake inhaled sharply, wanting desperately to believe what she had just said.
“Sure, you would’ve still been gruff and I wouldn’t have let you get away with anything… But all the rest? Yeah, it would’ve been different.” They were standing so close. “Maybe everything would’ve been different.”
She emphasized the word “everything” in a way that made his stomach flip. Everything. That’s what we could be.
She said yes! He could not wrap his head around the fact that she might return his feelings, even in a hypothetical scenario. Right now it didn’t even seem that hypothetical; her eyes were an invitation and it had never been harder to resist kissing her.
“Riley…”
He reached out, brushing his fingers on the back of her hand. He’d always thought that saying you could feel electricity when you were really attracted to someone was a cliché. Well, maybe it is, but it is also true. He felt the hairs on his hand stand on end. This is no shitty electric current either, it’s goddamn lightning.
Riley looked down at their hands and her fingers twitched, itching to intertwine with his.
He panicked and dropped his hand. “What am I doing? I need to go.”
He made as if to sprint out the door, when he felt to soft arms wrap around his waist. It was not the first time he’d had the wind knocked out of him that day, but definitely the first time that made him so happy.
Fighting against everything he wanted, he forced out, “Addams… You shouldn’t.” Or I’ll stay. I’ll go too far. This is impossible. What if anybody sees us? What if… Liam.
“Don’t you get tired of being so careful all the time?”
He closed his eyes and bit his lip. She’d hit the nail on the head, as she always did. He was sick of this. Sick of every second he couldn’t kiss her or even hold her hand.
“Constantly,” he said in a strangled voice.
Before he had time to think it, he turned around and pulled her close, her head resting perfectly on his chest. He tangled his fingers in her hair and breathed in, knowing he would never get this chance again, marveling at how soft it felt, how amazing it smelled. This is… this is just… unbelievable. I get to hold her like this.
If it had been hard not to kiss her before, Drake’s effort now was nothing short of superhuman. Her smell and touch were invading all his senses and he knew he was close to losing control. I have to leave while I still have brain cells and before I fuck up even worse.
He pushed her away gently but firmly and tried to ignore the hurt in her eyes.
“I’ve got to get out of here. Now. Before I do something we might both regret.” He looked down at her lips.
Riley was resigned. “Okay.”
She handed him his shirt and he put it on correctly, thankfully.
He got to the door, looking at her as little as possible. “And for all our sakes,” but mostly mine, “lock your door this time…”
He looked down at the handle and noticed something odd, “Huh.”
“What is it?”
He examined it more carefully, though it was hardly necessary; the handle was completely smooth.
“Addams… there’s no lock on your door handle.”
Riley knitted her eyebrows, “I thought they were all like that?”
He shook his head. “No. All of the other rooms on this floor lock.” Seeing her face all scrunched up with worry – She’s so damn cute – he backtracked, “It’s probably nothing.”
Her face relaxed a bit, but there was still a hint of anxiety between her eyebrows. “Probably?”
Drake had already resolved to tell Bastien about this tomorrow and investigate, but right now her rest was more important, though she should still be on guard.
“Just… be careful, okay?” He gave her a look which he hoped conveyed everything: how much she meant to him, how much he worried, that he would protect her…
He left her looking calm enough and slumped on his bed, determined to stay awake in case of anything. He didn’t think he could sleep anyway, his thoughts were bouncing uncontrollably from pure joy to heavy guilt. And hiding among them, waiting to pounce on him if he dared dream, was the image of Riley in her pink bra. Nope, we’re not crossing that line. He settled in for his sleepless night.