Chapter 15
Riley
Iwoke to the rhythm of Dungar’s heartbeat beneath my ear, his warm chest rising and falling with each breath.
Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, creating golden stripes on his skin.
I’d fallen asleep in his arms after what happened on the couch, and somehow during the night, we’d migrated to his bed.
I could only vaguely remember him tugging his t-shirt back over my head before he laid me down and tucked me in.
His arm curved around my waist, keeping me snug against him even in sleep. The weight of it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if my body had been shaped to fit perfectly against his much larger frame.
This was dangerous territory.
I’d spent two years never allowing myself to get comfortable, never letting myself belong anywhere or to anyone. Yet here I was, nestled against an orc sheriff with obsessively organized sock drawers and a heart big enough to make me forget all the reasons I couldn’t stay.
His dark lashes fluttered, then lifted, revealing eyes that reminded me of rich soil after rain. He blinked once, twice, then focused on me with a slow-spreading smile that made my heart flip against my ribs.
“Morning,” he rumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning.” I tried to ignore how right it felt to wake up beside him. “Sorry for falling asleep on you.”
His fingers traced patterns on my lower back. “I’m not.”
“Still. You could’ve woken me up.”
“You looked peaceful.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
The tenderness in his expression undid something inside me.
I’d built walls so high and thick I’d forgotten what it felt like to let someone see the person I truly was.
Not Riley Smith, the carefully constructed deputy with a believable backstory, but Riley James, the woman who’d risked everything for the truth and was still paying the price.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, stroking my cheek.
“How strange it is to feel safe.” The admission slipped out before I could filter it. “I haven’t woken up without immediately checking exits and planning escape routes in two years.”
His arm tightened around me. “You don’t have to run anymore.”
I wished that was true. But Blainsworth’s sons had resources, connections, and the kind of ruthlessness that didn’t respect small-town borders or sheriff’s badges. The longer I stayed in one place, the greater the risk became. Not just to me, but to everyone around me.
Including Dungar.
“We should get up,” I said, pulling away from thoughts I couldn’t afford to indulge. “We have luminooks to save.”
He sighed but released me. “We do.”
As I slid from the bed, I hated losing his warmth. Dungar’s gaze followed me as I stretched, heat flaring in his eyes when the shirt rode up.
“I’ll just…” I gestured vaguely toward the bathroom, suddenly awkward despite the intimacy we’d shared the night before.
He nodded, sitting and swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. The sheet pooled around his waist, revealing the muscled expanse of his chest and abdomen. I tried not to stare at the definition of his biceps or the way his dark hair fell across his forehead.
“You go first,” he said.
“Thanks.” I snagged clean clothes from the drawer he’d freed up for me and hurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click.
Leaning against the sink, I stared at my reflection. My hair was tousled, my lips still slightly swollen from his kisses, and my eyes held a brightness I hadn’t seen in years. I looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly pleasured by someone who worshipped every inch of her body.
I looked happy. And that terrified me more than any corporate hitman ever could.
After a quick shower, I dressed in clean jeans and a soft flannel shirt. When I opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out around me, Dungar waited in the hallway, his clothes for the day draped precisely over one arm.
Our eyes met, and something electric crackled between us. The memory of his mouth on me, the way he’d taken me apart with such meticulous attention, flooded back with visceral intensity.
“All yours,” I said, stepping aside to let him pass.
Instead, he flung aside his clothing and moved forward, crowding me against the wall opposite the bathroom door. His large frame engulfed me, one hand bracing beside my head while the other settled on my hip.
“Dungar?”
“I can’t stop thinking about last night,” he said, his voice dropping to a rumble I felt in my bones. “About the sounds you made. The way you taste.”
Heat rushed through me, pooling low in my belly and between my thighs. “Oh?”
“I want more.” His thumb traced the waistband of my jeans. “But only if you do.”
In answer, I stretched up on my toes, latched onto his shoulders, and urged him down so I could kiss him.
The gentleness of the previous night evaporated, replaced by a hunger that stole my breath.
His mouth claimed mine with delicious possessiveness, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made me moan.
I felt his answering growl vibrate through his chest as he pressed me more firmly against the wall.
His hands slid under my thighs, and he stepped between my legs. Even through our clothes, I could feel the hard length of him pressed against my core. Damn, he was huge.
And something was vibrating. I was too gone already to ask what it might be.
“This okay?” he asked against my throat.
“More than okay.” I rolled my hips, grinding against him, and getting rewarded by his sharp intake of breath.
He spread my legs wider, the position aligning us perfectly, the ridge of his erection pressing exactly where I needed him.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, rocking his hips forward.
The friction was exquisite, the pressure building with each controlled thrust. I clutched his shoulders, my head falling back against the wall as he found a rhythm that had me gasping.
“That’s it,” he said, curling forward to trail kisses down my throat. “Let me hear you cry out your joy.”
His hands guided my hips, urging me to move with him, to chase the pleasure building between us.
Despite the layers of fabric separating us, the hard press of him against my sensitive core, the controlled power in each roll of his hips, and the way he watched my face with rapt attention, sent me into an upward spiral.
“Dungar,” I breathed, tightening my legs around him. “I’m close.”
His movements grew stronger, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through my shirt. “Come for me, breela. Let me feel you.”
Like last night, the orcish endearment, spoken in that deep voice, pushed me over the edge. Pleasure crashed through me in waves, my body shuddering against his as I cried out. He held me through it.
Before I’d fully recovered, his rhythm grew erratic, his breathing harsh against my neck. With a growl that vibrated through both of us, he shuddered, his forehead pressing to mine as he found his own release.
For several heartbeats, we stayed like that, breathless and entangled. His arms supported me, holding me against him.
“Well,” I finally said, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. “Good morning to you too.”
His answering chuckle rippled through my chest. “The best morning.”
He gently lowered me to the ground, keeping his hands on my waist until he was sure I was steady. The care in the gesture made something in my chest twist painfully.
“I should probably…” He glanced down at himself, a sheepish smile playing at his lips.
“Go shower?” I quipped, doing nothing to hold back my grin.
“That would be wise.” He pressed one more kiss to my forehead before stepping back. “Save me some coffee?”
“Always.”
As he disappeared into the bathroom, I leaned against the wall for a moment longer, trying to reconcile the guarded, isolated, always ready to run woman I’d been for the past two years with the one who’d just climaxed in a hallway while wrapped around her orc sheriff.
I liked the second woman a lot better, even if she scared me half to death.
Breakfast had a dreamy, honeymoon quality to it, with lingering touches and heated glances over coffee mugs. I made eggs while Dungar prepared toast, each slice buttered precisely to the edges, the jam spread in an even layer that stopped exactly a quarter-inch from the crust.
“What’s the plan for today?” I asked, sliding his plate in front of him.
He took a careful bite before answering. “We need to interview anyone who might have seen something around the wild luminooks, plus those who might’ve come near the in-town pens. Establish a timeline. Identify potential suspects.”
“Starting with staff?”
“And anyone who took tours or pottery classes in the last week. The pens are visible from the walking path behind the Pottery Barn.”
I nodded, appreciating his methodical approach. It was exactly how I would’ve handled a financial fraud investigation, establishing patterns, identifying anomalies, building a case piece by piece until the full picture emerged.
“Do you think this is related to me?” The question had been weighing on me since we discovered the missing luminooks.
Dungar’s expression turned thoughtful. “It’s possible, but not certain. The timing is suspicious, but luminooks have value on their own. As we said, their bioluminescent properties could be worth millions to the right pharmaceutical or tech company.”
“But if it is because of me…” I pushed a bit of eggs around my plate, my appetite gone. “If Blainsworth’s people found me—”
“Then we deal with it.” His hand covered mine, engulfing it completely.
The certainty in his voice made me want to believe him. But I’d seen what Edgar Blainsworth was capable of, the lives he’d destroyed without a second thought. His sons were cut from the same cloth, with the added motivation of family vengeance.
“Eat,” Dungar said gently. “We’ll need our strength.”
I managed a few more bites, watching as he cleaned his plate, each bite the same size as the last.