Chapter 14 #2
Block by block, closer to Riley.
Elizabeth stared out the window at the city lit with garish Christmas decorations, cheap strings of lights, inflatable Santas half-deflated on rooftops.
Not her world. Not the estate. Not the penthouse.
But it was Riley’s world. And it had begun to feel like hers, too, in those stolen glimpses Riley had let her see.
She wanted that world.
She wanted Riley.
The cab turned down the narrow street, brakes squealing. Elizabeth’s stomach lurched harder than any turbulence had.
This was it.
In minutes, she would be standing outside Riley’s apartment door. No staff to announce her. No curated estate to impress her. Just Elizabeth, raw, disheveled, terrified.
For the first time in her life, she prayed that would be enough.
By the time Elizabeth climbed the final flight of stairs to Riley’s apartment, her body was numb. Not just from the cold, but from the weight of what she was about to do.
Her entire life had been curated to avoid this exact moment: standing at a chipped door in a dingy hallway, trembling, uncertain, utterly exposed. No staff, no driver, no polished excuses. Just Elizabeth Hale, about to beg for something she had spent her whole life insisting she didn’t need.
Her knuckles hovered over the door. For a full thirty seconds, she couldn’t move. Then she forced herself to knock.
The door opened a crack. Riley stood there, in flannel pajama bottoms and an old sweatshirt, hair piled messily on her head. She looked tired, wary. Beautiful.
Elizabeth’s throat closed.
Riley didn’t smile. She didn’t even open the door all the way. “What are you doing here?”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. Words. She needed words. The truth, not the polished phrases she’d spent years perfecting.
“You were right,” she said. Her voice was raw, rough from the cold. “I was pretending.”
Riley’s chin lifted. Her arms crossed her chest. “Of course you were.”
Elizabeth shook her head, desperate. “Not about the sex. Not about the touches. Not about the mornings.” She forced the words past the ache in her chest. “I was pretending I didn’t love you. Because that’s easier than risking being loved back.”
The silence that followed was brutal. Riley’s eyes flicked over her, messy hair, flushed cheeks, the small evergreen tree Elizabeth carried like an offering, and something flickered, but her mouth stayed hard.
“Why now?” Riley asked finally. Her tone wasn’t cruel, but it cut. “Why today?”
Elizabeth bent, carefully setting the tree on the worn carpeted floor between them. Her fingers were shaking as she reached into her pocket. The ornament was still there, wrapped in a crumpled napkin. She unwrapped it, the glass catching the dim light of the hallway.
“I saved this,” she said quietly. “The ornament you liked from the library. You said it reminded you of home.” Her hand trembled as she held it out. “I want to be that for you. If you’ll let me.”
For a long, unbearable pause, Riley said nothing. Her arms were still crossed. Elizabeth’s heart slammed against her ribs, harder than any boardroom negotiation, harder than any confrontation with her family.
Then Riley let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. She shook her head, eyes wet. “You’re still terrible at this.”
Elizabeth let out a sharp exhale, relief breaking through her chest. She managed the ghost of a smile. “I know,” she admitted. Her voice softened. “But I want to learn. With you.”
Riley’s arms dropped at last. She stepped forward, slow, as if every inch closed between them might still be a mistake. Elizabeth didn’t dare move, afraid to spook her, afraid to ruin the fragile thread of hope she’d been given.
And then Riley’s hands were on her face, warm, calloused, achingly familiar. She pulled Elizabeth down, and their mouths met.
It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t the calculated seduction Elizabeth had always wielded like a weapon.
It was messy, cold noses bumping, slightly chapped lips dragging together, teeth clacking once in the rush of it.
Riley’s sweatshirt smelled faintly of laundry soap and cheap cocoa mix.
Elizabeth was still shivering, her boots leaving a puddle on the floor.
But it was real. God, it was real.
Elizabeth kissed back, her hands finally finding Riley’s waist, clutching as if she could anchor herself to this one impossible, perfect person. Riley’s lips softened under hers, the kiss deepening, breaking apart for breath only to come together again—needier, hungrier, truer.
Elizabeth had kissed a hundred women. Maybe more. But none of those kisses had ever felt like this, like an undoing, like a beginning.
Her chest ached with it.
When they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, Elizabeth’s breath was ragged. Riley’s was, too. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, letting herself feel the warmth of Riley’s skin against hers, the sound of her heartbeat, the fragile, miraculous fact that she hadn’t been turned away.
When Riley finally whispered, her voice was thick. “I’ve never seen you not put together.”
Elizabeth let out a shaky laugh. “I didn’t want to wait.”
Riley leaned back just far enough to look at her, eyes searching. Whatever she found there, whatever naked, unpolished truth Elizabeth had finally managed to show, softened her expression.
Riley reached down, took Elizabeth’s cold hand in hers, and tugged her inside.
The door shut behind them.
And for the first time in Elizabeth’s life, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
For a beat, Elizabeth simply stood in the tiny entryway, dripping snowmelt onto Riley’s worn rug, her chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon.
Riley still hadn’t let go of her hand. That was the only thing keeping Elizabeth tethered, the strong, warm grip around her fingers.
Riley looked at her, really looked at her, and Elizabeth braced for rejection. But Riley’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, and something in Elizabeth’s chest cracked open.
“You’re freezing,” Riley murmured.
Elizabeth’s laugh was shaky, almost wild. “I told you, I didn’t want to wait.”
Riley’s mouth twitched, softening. And then she tugged Elizabeth forward, through the narrow living room with its threadbare couch and twinkling half-broken string lights, toward the bedroom.
Elizabeth followed, every nerve alive, terrified and exhilarated.
The bedroom was small, the bed unmade, a pile of laundry in the corner. It was so far from the pristine, curated spaces Elizabeth was used to. And yet she had never felt safer in any place in her life.
Riley turned, standing just in front of her. For a moment, neither moved. Then Riley reached up, pushing back the stray strands of hair clinging to Elizabeth’s cheek.
“You look ridiculous,” Riley whispered.
Elizabeth let out a breathless laugh. “I probably do.”
“You’re dripping on my floor.”
“Then take this all off me.” Elizabeth’s voice was lower now, husky with want.
Something flickered in Riley’s eyes, hesitation, longing, a thousand questions, and then she obeyed.
She slid Elizabeth’s heavy coat from her shoulders, the wool wet and cold.
Underneath, Elizabeth’s turtleneck clung to her skin.
Riley’s fingers brushed her ribs as she tugged at the hem, and Elizabeth shivered violently, but not from the cold.
Riley’s touch was tentative, reverent, as if she didn’t quite believe Elizabeth was real. Elizabeth had spent her life being admired, desired, claimed. But she had never been touched like this, like she was fragile, and precious, and terrifyingly human.
The sweater came off, and Elizabeth stood there in her silk camisole, her breath sharp, her skin goose-pimpled. Riley’s eyes moved over her, hungry but soft.
“I mean it,” Elizabeth whispered, surprising herself with how unsteady her voice was. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. Not with you.”
Riley swallowed hard. Then she leaned in, kissing her again.
This kiss was slower, deeper. Riley’s lips parted against hers, and Elizabeth gasped softly into the warmth of it, her hands sliding into Riley’s hair. She tasted like toothpaste and cocoa and salt, and Elizabeth wanted to drown in it.
When they broke apart, Riley’s thumb traced lightly along Elizabeth’s jaw, teasing, gentle, grounding.
Riley took her hand and guided her toward the bathroom. Elizabeth’s pulse raced, not entirely from the kiss. She followed, letting Riley lead her through the small apartment.
Riley turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam began to curl thickly in the air. She glanced back at Elizabeth with a small, amused smile that made Elizabeth’s chest tighten.
“Come on,” Riley said, tugging lightly at the hem of her coat. “I’ll help get you warmed up.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted, caught between hesitation and a thrill she couldn’t name. The thought of letting Riley touch her, guide her, warm her, of being this vulnerable, made her pulse spike. She nodded, exhaling a shiver she didn’t try to hide, and let Riley peel away the rest of her layers.
The warmth of the shower hit her first, cascading over her skin, but it was Riley’s hands that sent a deeper shiver through her body.
She felt her back tense as Riley pressed against her from behind, warm and solid, fingertips tracing the line of her shoulders and down her arms, kneading the tension from her muscles.
“You’ve been holding everything in,” Riley murmured close to her ear. “Let me take care of you for a minute.”
Elizabeth’s knees wobbled. “I-I don’t know how.”
“You don’t have to,” Riley interrupted, her lips brushing against Elizabeth’s neck, playful, teasing. “Just feel it.”
And she did. Elizabeth leaned back against Riley, letting her hands rest on her hips as Riley’s fingers wandered, teasing along the curve of her ribs, brushing over her chest. A sharp intake of breath escaped her as Riley’s hand pressed against her center, coaxing, urging, and Elizabeth pressed back instinctively, hips tilting.