The words roll around in my head. Then I smile. “Always faithful.”

She nods.

My shoulders relax. “I love you so much.”

Smirking, she says, “So show me.”

I kiss her. I can’t not. Especially when she’s looking at me the way she is.

My mouth covers hers, my hand on her waist. The force of the kiss has her moving back until she’s lying on the bed, her hands in my hair as she smiles around my lips. She starts to giggle.

“What?” I ask, pulling away.

“I’m lying on the pizza.”

I tug the fabric of her top. “You better take this off then.”

Her head tilts. “You trying to get to second base, Banks?”

Awkwardly, I move until I’m sitting up on my elbow, looking down at her. “Actually, I’m trying to get to third. And maybe that’ll be enough for you to let me limp to home base.”

She sits up, chewing her bottom lip before removing her top, leaving her in her bra and her skirt. I swipe the plate off the bed, harder than intended, causing it to smash against the wall. A second later Holly’s back.

“Mom,” Riley squeals, covering her breasts.

I cover my hard-on.

“Sorry!” Holly squeaks, her hand over her eyes as she closes the door.

Riley gets up and locks the door. Then leans against it, facing me, her hands still on the knob. “So,” she says.

I use my elbows to shift back on the bed until I’m sitting against the headboard, my legs out in front of me. “Come here, baby.”

Slowly, she walks toward me, her hips moving from side to side. When she reaches the bed, she crawls toward me, her handful of breasts swinging beneath her. My eyes lock onto them, like a man deprived and I get flooded with memories of her. The smoothness of her skin against my finger tips, the taste of her on my lips… on my tongue. A groan emits from deep in my throat, getting louder when she straddles my lap, her hands on my shoulders, my hands on her back, moving higher until I find the clip of her bra. Her back arches when her breasts free from their confines, her gaze lowered. I keep my eyes on hers when I lower my lips, taking her nipple into my mouth. “God, I missed you,” she whispers, her fingers digging into my nape as her hips push forward, rubbing on my cock. I flatten my tongue, licking up her nipple. I pull back, just enough for her to remove my shirt. Her fingers feel like fire as they land on my chest, her movements are slow, not at all desperate as they lower down to my shorts. She fingers the band, teasing me with her eyes and her tongue when she runs it across my lips. One hand on her back, I pull her into me, the other on the back of her head, tugging gently on her hair until her head tilts back. Her mouth parts, welcoming my assault on her lips, her tongue, her breaths, her sexy-as-fuck moan. She frees my cock, her hand circling it, stroking gently.

I run my hands up her legs, moving higher until my fingers find her panties. My thumbs stroke where her thighs connect.

Her strokes get faster while I move her panties aside, my finger entering her.

Her movements stop momentarily, her head throwing back. With two fingers inside her now, my thumb stroking her clit as her hips move back and forth, her wetness soaking my hand, I go for her breasts again, making sure to pay the same attention to each one.

She resumes her strokes, my hips jerking back and forth with her movements.

Then she moans again, her pussy tightening around me and I know she’s close. So fucking close I can smell it. “Dylan,” she whispers.

“Fuck, baby…”

Both hands around me now, she starts to move faster.

My hands ball in her hair, pulling her face to mine, using her mouth to drown out the grunt caused by my release. I free her quickly, her entire body covered in sweat as she moans my name, over and over, her hips moving grinding. Then she bites down on her lip, muffling her cry as she comes around my fingers.

“Holy shit, babe,” she whispers, her forehead resting on my shoulder.

I stroke her hair, my lips to her ear. “Thank you, Ry.”

She pants a few times, trying to settle her breaths. “For what?”

I wipe my brow on her shoulder. “For never giving up on me.”

Fifty-Six

Dylan

My eyes snap open, my body covered in a cold sweat. I try to breathe through the unbearable weight on my chest. I close my eyes again, trying to work out where I am.

I hear gun shots.

Smell them around me.

But the worst? The worst are the eyes I see.

The kid’s.

Dave’s.

And then Riley’s.

All full of hope.

I roll my head to the side, my nostrils filling with the scent of Riley’s shampoo. Blindly, I reach up, my fingers finding the mess of hair on her head. I move down her neck and follow her arm settled across my chest creating the weight I’d confused for pain.

My breaths slow, my mind doesn’t.

As carefully as I can, I reach for my phone. 3:18 a.m.

Just as gently, I remove myself from beneath her and sit on the edge of the bed, my entire body tense. I rub my eyes, the dryness in my throat making it impossible to swallow. After retrieving my crutches, I hobble to the bathroom and drink water from the tap, then splash some on my face, trying to get my mind to catch up to my body—to make it wake up, move on, release it from its trap. I look over at Riley fast asleep, her body splayed across the entire bed.

Dave’s in my mind, full combat gear, weapon to his chest, the sun beaming down on him making the freckles across his face extra dark. “Banks,” the fucker says, smiling at me. “You’re going to fuck it up, man.”