10. Riley
10
RILEY
A t some point during the drive home, exhaustion must have pulled me under. When I wake, it’s like emerging from the depths of a dark ocean. My eyelids are heavy and swollen from crying, and my throat is raw. The car’s gentle hum and the rhythmic sound of the tires against the road lull me into a half-awake state. My body feels leaden, but my mind begins to stir, piecing together fragments of the evening.
We failed.
I failed.
Again.
Guilt threatens to drown me, and I shift slightly as strong arms give me a quick squeeze. Peeling open my eyes, I find Logan staring down at me with a fractured expression. I shift again, getting comfortable in his arms as I rest my head on his shoulder and turn to look out the window. The outside world is a blur of dark shadows and distant lights, a stark contrast to the blazing chaos we left behind.
Ducking my head to the jacket wrapped around me, I inhale the faint smell of Grayson’s cologne, comforting yet bittersweet. Feeling eyes on me, I meet Royce’s gaze in the rearview mirror. His expression is a mix of relief and concern, his usual hard mask cracked by the night’s catastrophe. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice a balm to my frazzled nerves. “You okay?”
I nod, though the word okay feels like a distant memory. “Yeah, just… processing.”
Logan presses me tighter against him, his lips brushing my temple, and at the feel of fingers on my ankle, I glance over to find Grayson drawing soothing circles onto my skin.
The car’s interior is dim, the dashboard lights casting a soft glow that feels almost soothing. Yet it does nothing to diminish the chaos ripping me apart inside. We were this close, except we weren’t close at all.
We’re no closer to finding my daughter than we were this morning.
And that thought threatens to destroy me.
“Shh,” Logan soothes. “We’re not giving up. We’ll keep looking.” He must feel the need to reiterate, “We aren’t going to give up, Shortcake.”
Sniffling, I ask the question I haven’t even allowed myself to think until now. “What if we don’t? What if we don’t find her?”
“That’s not a reality any of us are willing to consider, Tempest.”
The absolute surety in Grayson’s tone soothes some of the jagged pieces of my soul. Although his eyes are partially obscured in the dim interior, I latch onto his stare as it steadily hauls me out of the dark pit I fell into when I saw that little girl’s face and realized she wasn’t my little girl.
I burrow deeper into the jacket as I rest my head against Logan’s chest, and as gravel crunches beneath the tires, I stare into Grayson’s eyes, holding on to that lifeline the entire journey back to Halston.
“We’re almost home,” Royce says quietly, breaking the silence as we pass the Welcome to Halston sign.
Home.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve come to consider the guys’ house home more so than my apartment. It seems ironic that not long ago, I fought with Grayson over going back to my place, and since then, I’ve only been there a handful of times to grab things.
I haven’t wanted to be alone.
None of the guys have wanted me to be alone, and I’m under no illusion that even if I said I wanted to return to the apartment, they wouldn’t all follow. However, my apartment is far too small for three grown-ass men, especially ones the size and breadth of Royce and Logan. As for Grayson? My apartment’s square footage is way too little to share with him. Hell, even their house isn’t big enough to contain the both of us at times.
Still, as we pull up to the curb outside their brownstone and I stare up at the front door, the last place I want to be is inside—where the guys will hover over me, wanting to do everything to make this better even though we all know there isn’t anything they can do.
Grayson will poke and needle me to distract me from the gaping, empty hole in my chest. Royce will brood over what he considers another failure—even though I could never blame him—and Logan will convince me to cuddle in bed with him. But I won’t be able to sleep, and I don’t want to be distracted from this pain.
I need to bathe in it.
“Shortcake?”
Blinking out of my stupor, I tear my gaze away from the front door of the house toward Logan. He’s standing in the open car door, when I hadn’t even noticed him get out. His hand is stretching out for mine, and I stare at it before lifting my gaze, meeting Royce’s watchful eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Guys, give us a bit.”
“Bu—”
Logan’s protest is cut off as Royce presses on the accelerator, and the car jumps forward, the door slamming shut.
“That’s my car, you fucker!” Logan’s yell is muted, and Royce responds with a middle finger before taking off down the street and leaving Logan and Grayson on the sidewalk. We’d switched cars at The Depot, leaving the unmarked SUV Dax arranged where we found it before climbing into Logan’s.
Trusting Royce, I fall back against the warm leather seat as he navigates the streets of Halston. Only when we turn onto my street do I sit up. The car stops outside Ava’s dance studio, and Royce gets out, rounding to my side before opening the door and helping me out.
“I don’t have my keys on me,” I tell him as he walks me to the door.
One side of his lips lifts. “I’m not about to let that stop us,” he cryptically states before falling to one knee and pulling a set of tiny tools from his back pocket. Lifting two out, he maneuvers them into the lock.
“Do you carry lock-picking tools everywhere you go?” It feels good to tease, even if we both know it’s hollow—merely a distraction.
Still, he huffs out a chuckle. “You never know when you might meet a locked door you want to peek behind.”
A loud click sounds like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet street before the door swings inward, and Royce ushers me inside.
“Why are we here?” I ask, stepping into the dance studio.
Mirrors line the far wall, and I flick a glance over my red dress and matching heels, not lingering on my blotchy face before I wrench my gaze away.
Royce strides straight for the sound system, fiddling with it as he connects his phone. Feeling my eyes on him, he lifts his head. His gaze rakes over my face before he answers my question. “This is where you go to bleed out your pain.”
The slow opening notes of Keep Your Head Up Princess by Anson Seabra seep into the air, and still holding my gaze, Royce murmurs, “Bleed, baby.”
That’s all the encouragement I need to kick off my heels. Not looking at the mirror, I move into the center of the room. My bare feet press into the polished wooden floor, reflecting the street lights from outside since we didn’t bother to turn on any lights in the studio. As the slow beat plays out, I stretch out each of my limbs, lifting my arms above my head and twisting my core as I point my toes and extend my legs until I’m warmed up and the music is wrapped protectively around me.
The song shifts to Naked by James Arthur. Another slow beat that enables me to turn inward as I close my eyes and allow all my pain and grief to press down on me.
I start to move, each step deliberate, each motion a desperate attempt to expel the anguish that’s tearing me apart. The lyrics echo in the hollow ache of my chest, resonating with the raw, unfiltered pain of our failure tonight—of going another day without holding my daughter. Every beat of the song is another heartbeat I can’t feel against mine, every note a reminder of the emptiness that consumes me.
My agony expands as the song bleeds into another, Said So by Alexander Stewart. I spin, the world blurring around me, even as the ache remains sharp and clear. I pour every ounce of sorrow into the dance, my body a conduit for the despair that words can’t capture. My arms reach out as if trying to grasp the ghost of my daughter, finding nothing but air. As if running could bridge the unbearable distance between us, my legs carry me across the studio in frantic strides.
Tears stream down my face, hot and unrelenting, but I don’t wipe them away. They’re a testament to my pain, proof of the love I have for her, a love that’s stronger than the torment but no less agonizing. I drop to my knees, the impact jarring but grounding. The floor is cool beneath my palms, a stark reminder of the reality I can’t escape.
Empty by Letdown plays next, and all that pain, desperation, and anger swells. It crashes over me. My body trembles as I push myself up, the music guiding me through a fast-paced sequence of movements that cut through the air and slice through the plume of heartache.
With each song, the beat increases, and along with it, the speed at which I race across the floor, dipping and spinning until the world is a blur. Every movement is a plea, a prayer, a scream into the void.
My movements hit a crescendo with Breath by Breaking Benjamin. I’m drenched and gasping for breath as my feet slap against the hardwood floor. Every lift of my leg is a kick, my arms a sharp flick as I throw them out to my sides.
I dance for Aurora, for the moments I’ve missed, for the nights I’ve cried myself to sleep with her name on my lips. I dance for the fear that grips me every second she’s gone, for the hope I can’t let go of. My heart aches with every beat of the song, a painful rhythm that drives me to the edge of my endurance.
As the music fades into silence, I feel my body give out, the intensity of my emotions taking their toll. Strong arms catch me before I can hit the floor. Royce. I don’t have to look to know it’s him; his presence is as familiar to me as my own heartbeat.
He lifts me, cradling me against his chest, and for a moment, I let myself fall into him, taking comfort in his strength.
The song changes, and Confidence by Steven Ryan begins to play. Royce doesn’t say a word; just starts to move, guiding me in a slow, gentle dance. His hands are firm yet tender, one resting on the small of my back, the other holding mine. I let him lead, my body following his like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
As the music swells, Royce pulls me closer, his warmth seeping into my skin, grounding me. The lyrics speak of a man coaxing out a woman’s confidence in the face of everything she has overcome, and that’s exactly what it feels like Royce is doing. He’s showing me that I can fall, I can bleed, but he’ll always be here to help me up. He’ll be at my side while I fight another round.
Sometimes you gotta bleed ’til the poison drains out.
You gotta believe when your heart’s filled with doubt.
Let me see your confidence.
It’s as though the song was written for us, for this moment.
His gaze meets mine, and I see the promise in his eyes: I’ve got you.
We move together, our steps in sync, and I let myself lean into him, letting go of some of the pain. His arms are a safe haven, his touch a balm for my raw wounds. I can feel the tension in my muscles slowly start to ease, the frantic rhythm of my heart calming as we sway to the music.
“Sometimes we have to let ourselves feel what we’re feeling,” Royce murmurs, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. “It does us no good to keep those feelings bottled inside. We have to let them out, let them consume us. Drown in the pain, baby. I’ll be here to pull you back to the surface and hold you tight.”
Tears gather in my eyes again, but this time they’re different. They’re tears of relief, of gratitude. I press my face into his shoulder, letting myself feel the safety he offers. With every step, every turn, he’s there, holding me together, piece by piece.
His fingers trace soothing patterns on my back, and I cling to him, absorbing his strength. The music wraps around us, a cocoon of melody and emotion, and while my chest still aches and despair still clings to my skin, I no longer feel like I’m suffocating beneath the weight of it all.
However, with his heat seeping beneath my skin and the strength of his arms wrapped around me, I want to feel nothing but him… if only for a few moments.
With the melody of a song I don’t recognize bleeding into the studio, I press onto my toes and seal my lips over Royce’s, my body seeking solace in his embrace. His lips meet mine, and it’s like a switch flips. All the pain, the anguish, the crushing despair—it all fades away. His kiss is a stopper on all those feelings, replacing them with heat, desire, warmth, and need. I melt into him, one hand on his shoulder to balance me while my other tangles with his hair.
The music swells, and for a moment, nothing else exists. It’s just us, lost in each other, drowning out the world. His kiss is demanding and all-consuming. I let it take me over completely. I pour everything into it until all that’s left is the fire between us.
Royce’s hands roam over my back, pulling me tighter against him, and I can feel his heart pounding in sync with mine. We move together, and the dance of our lips and bodies becomes the only rhythm that matters. It’s intoxicating, this escape we’ve found in each other, and I never want it to end.
“Riley,” he rasps in a plea as he draws back.
“Royce.” I drag his name out in vexation. Lifting my gaze to his, I say earnestly, “I need you.”
He groans, face pinched in indecision. “You make it impossible to say no to you.”
My lips lift in a coy smile as I wind my arms around his neck and press myself impossibly closer so I can whisper in his ear. “So don’t. I want you.” Hitching my leg over his hip, I drag my cunt over the obvious erection tenting his pants. “You want me. Let’s lose ourselves in one another.”
Ducking his head so his nose presses against my neck, he murmurs, “Leave the world behind.”
“All of it,” I agree, tilting my head to give him better access as he nips and sucks a path down my throat and across my collarbone. His hands slide to my hips as he traverses the valley between my breasts until he falls to his knees before me.
My chest heaves as he lifts his gaze, those ice-blue eyes smoldering as he stares up at me through thick eyelashes. “Are you wet for me, James?”
Lip trapped between my teeth and my gaze heavy, I nod, loving how his eyes flare with predatory pride.
“Show me.”
The sheer desire in his eyes gives me the courage to slide my hand between the high slit in my dress and dip my fingers into my black lace panties. Pressing two fingers inside me, I coat them in my excitement before pulling them out to show him the shimmering wetness.
Smirking, he wraps his calloused fingers around my wrist, bringing my hand to his face as he dips my fingers inside his mouth. His lips wrap around the digits, his tongue lapping at the taste of me as he hums.
“Delicious,” he declares with the smack of his lips. “However, it’s not nearly enough. I want these gorgeous creamy thighs sticky with your mess before I bend you over and fuck you.”
His filthy words have a fresh gush soaking my panties before he glides his hands up the outside of my thighs, hooking his fingers in my panties and dragging them down my legs until I can step out of them.
His touch is gentle, reverent, as he palms the back of my calf and lifts my leg over his shoulder. Pushing my dress aside, he brings his face to my pussy and inhales deeply. His chest vibrates with approval, sending me desperate with desire before he buries his face between my thighs.
My head falls back on a moan, my fingers tangling with his hair as I hold on while he licks and sucks through my folds and around my clit until nothing exists beyond his touch and the pleasure he’s eliciting.
“Royce,” I moan. “Yes. God, that feels so good.”
My hips rock, and I grind against his face as his tongue does incredible things to me. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to my clit, wrenching my orgasm right to the edge before he pulls back, plunging his tongue into my channel and making me writhe.
“I need to come,” I groan when I feel myself getting close for the third time before he eases up. I gasp when he delivers a sharp smack to my inner thigh before massaging the area, somehow only making me more desperate for him.
Lapping at my clit, he roughly shoves two fingers into my sopping channel. The music is nothing but background noise to my needy pants and the squelch of my desire as Royce forces me to come apart on his tongue in the middle of the dance studio.
The darkness casts our silhouettes in shadows as I fist his hair, and he squeezes my ass while rubbing that magical spot inside me and sucks on my clit until I explode with his name on my tongue.
My body is still trembling from the intensity of my release when his fingers slip from me. Covered in my release, he smears it over my inner thigh before licking it away.
Sliding his fingers back inside me, he scoops up more of my pleasure, doing the same to my other thigh. “Mmm,” he hums. “I fucking love it when you’re all messy like this.”
Lowering my leg to the ground, he stands to his full height before me. “My filthy girl,” he coos appreciatively before slamming his lips down on mine and forcing me to taste myself on him.
Strawberries and leather.
Complete intoxication.
“Put on your heels and go stand in front of the mirror for me, Babydoll.”
I arch a brow at his bossy tone, which is more reminiscent of Grayson. Smirking, he swats me on the ass, and with a half-yelp half-giggle, I scurry to put on my shoes before standing in front of the mirror that runs the entire length of the studio.
My focus remains on his silhouette behind me. His stark blue eyes cut through the dimness, glowing in the yellow light cast by the streetlamp outside as his gaze rakes over me, taking in my flushed cheeks, the curve of my ass emphasized in the dress, and my toned calves in the heels I’m wearing.
His presence is a beacon in the night, pulling me in with its intensity.
Royce’s dress shoes clack against the polished wood with a steady, deliberate rhythm as he crosses the dance studio floor toward me. Only then do I realize the music has cut off, leaving the room cloaked in a heavy, charged silence.
His gaze remains latched onto mine as he steps up behind me, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of my dress. Being the sole focus of his searing attention ignites a slow, simmering desire. The space between us is electric, humming with unspoken words and raw, shared emotions. His breath tickles the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“Hands on the mirror, James. Rub that ass against my crotch.”
Eyes on him, I slowly bend at the waist, pushing my hips back so my ass is firmly pressed against the bulge of his crotch as I place my hands against the cold mirror.
“So compliant for me,” he purrs as he brushes a hand up my spine, forcing me into a deeper arch. “Does my dirty girl want to be fucked?”
I rock my hips along his length, wishing his pants weren’t in the way. “Yes.” There’s no hiding the desire practically dripping from my tongue. “I need it. I need you .”
One corner of his lips lifts in a smirk as he pushes my dress out of the way. A faint breeze dances across my bare ass cheeks as his fingers slide between my thighs. “You’ve got me, sweetheart.”
He plunges three fingers into my wet heat, and I buck against him, groaning. “Always so ready for me,” he appraises. “My needly little slut.” I mewl. “You’re going to take my cock like the filthy whore you are.” I whimper at the loss of his fingers, my pussy clenching around nothing but air as the metallic teeth of his zipper slice through the air. “You’re going to let me fill your wet little hole with my cum until it’s dripping down your thighs,” he rasps, his restraint fracturing as he presses his blunt head to my entrance. “Then you’re going to let me eat it out of you, and when I kiss you, you’re going to taste us .”
Fuck, yes! I want all of that.
He slams into me in one mighty thrust that has me nearly smacking my head against the mirror. I stabilize myself in time for him to pull out before driving back in, somehow going deeper than he did before.
He fucks me hard. The entire time, his eyes remain on mine through the mirror. Through his stare, he tells me he loves me. He says how much he worships me while our bodies succumb to primal need, taking from one another with ruthless abandon until the telltale spindles of heat begin to sweep outward from my core.
My pussy flutters around his hard length, my legs trembling with the upcoming onslaught of my pleasure. Arms outstretched and toes curling around the cliff’s edge, I’m ready to dive off it when Royce slows his relentless pace.
Hand fisting my hair, he wrenches my head back. My eyes snap open, connecting with his. “Look at yourself,” he barks between pants, thrusting shallowly into me.
My gaze remains fixed on him, refusing to do what he says. To ruin this moment with the remnants of my devastation still staining my cheeks and darkening my eyes.
“Do it,” he growls, forcing himself slower. “Do it if you want to come.”
With a whimpered protest, I force my gaze forward. The harsh reality of my pain stares back at me, etched into the lines of my face. The vibrancy of my hazel eyes is gone, as though my irises have been leached of color these past weeks. The stains of tear tracks mark my face, my pale skin doing little to disguise the battle I’ve been fruitlessly fighting. Each tear shed, each sleepless night, they all leave their mark, a testament to the depth of my sorrow.
“You are beautiful,” Royce murmurs, his voice low yet sure. “Don’t shy away from your pain. Your heartache, your grief… They show how much you care. They tell me how deeply you love your daughter. How can that not be beautiful to look at?”
Leaning over me, he runs a finger over my flushed cheeks—a sign of life in an otherwise desolate expanse. It forces me to look past the remnants of my devastation to the dilated pupils and shining eyes. The breaths fogging up the mirror with each shallow pant.
I see a mom desperate for the safe return of her daughter.
But more than that, I see a woman in the throes of passion.
A woman who is still fighting. Who hasn’t completely given up.
“See the strength in your eyes, the resilience in your spirit,” Royce continues. “You’ve been through so much, Ry, and yet you still stand tall.”
With each shallow thrust and tender caress, Royce forces me to look at myself anew. To see myself not as broken, but as resilient. A survivor of love’s most powerful trials.
Royce captures my gaze in the mirror before tilting his head to whisper in my ear, “Beauty lies not in perfection, but in the raw, unfiltered expression of our deepest emotions.” Nipping my earlobe, his stare turns heated as he rasps, “Now, show me the most beautiful expression of all, and come for me.”
Grasping my hips, he abandons all soft touches. Skin slaps against skin as he brings us barreling toward the release we both so desperately need, leaving me on unstable legs that won’t hold me up as I sink to the floor.
The mirror is a cold relief against my heated skin as my head falls back against it, my eyelids closed as I catch my breath.
I swear I doze off for a second, and my head rolls to the side, eyelids cracking open at the press of hands spreading my legs.
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Royce drawls with a teasing smirk and a hungry glint. “We’re not done yet, baby.”
Diving between my thighs, he laps at our combined release as it drips from my cunt like it’s the forbidden fruit he can’t get enough of.
He only lifts his head when his chin is damp, his lips shimmering in the low light with our pleasure as he brings them closer to mine. Flicking my tongue out, I taste us on his lips before they collide with my own, and he shoves his tongue into my mouth in a filthy, sloppy kiss that has nothing to do with piecing each other together and everything to do with the undeniable chemistry that will forever draw us to one another.
With a desire-ridden moan, I hook my legs around his waist. And his cock, invigorated with new life, easily finds its home.
Yeah, I’d readily hide from reality with this man any day.