Riley tabbed his pants open and cupped his groin, protecting his erection from the zipper’s teeth. Shit, that was a tighter fit than he was comfortable with.
He pushed the rest of his clothes off and glanced at the bed. Erin’s hand was between her legs, her finger stroking her folds.
“That’s my job.” He grabbed her wrist and pushed it away.
“You weren’t doing it.” Erin grinned at him and his heart squeezed. This was what he’d been missing. He’d just been too stupid to realize it earlier.
“I’ll fix that.” He hooked his hands under her knees and knelt on the bed, letting her thighs drape over his.
Riley bent forward until he could kiss her sternum. They had a little bit of time. There was no need to rush this. Her hands stroked his face, and shoulders.
“Fixing it, my ass,” she said with a chuckle.
Riley sighed. “Foreplay is lost on you, isn’t it?”
“Foreplay started over an hour ago when you said you were sorry.” She tugged on his hair.
He leaned forward until he could kiss her lips. He grasped his cock and slid it between her folds. She hissed and fisted his hair.
“Condom,” she said with need.
Riley pushed up and grabbed the packet, ripping it open. She lay back, watching his hands roll the latex on while her fingers drew circles on her ribs and chest.
He wanted to keep that look on her face forever.
That was a thought that should scare him. Send him running from the room even. But he had no intention of bailing. Not now. Not unless that was what Erin wanted.
He grasped his cock and thrust into her, watching her face. She gasped and her eyes widened. He grinned and thrust again. Her pussy tightened around him and it was his turn to groan in pleasure.
Riley palmed her breast and thrust, sliding as deep as he could go. Erin panted, staring up at him with eyes gone dark from lust. He felt the same way about her. All that hunger for more that’s what mattered more than the fear of screwing up.
He eased out of her, keeping the motions gentle. Easy.
“Riley.” She constricted her calves, driving her heels into his ass, driving him deeper.
“Careful.”
“Harder.” That was not a tone that brokered argument.
Riley straightened, hooking his arms under her knees. He thrust, and she groaned. Her breasts bobbed with the movement.
“Yes.” She fisted the sheets.
He thrust again, his focus on her. The way she groaned, how her face creased, the white-knuckled grip on the sheets, all signs of pleasure.
Riley let go of one knee and braced his hand at her waist. She let go of the sheets and reached for him. She pulled him down, kissing his mouth and cheek. Her nails bit into his skin. Her whimpers drove him on as she called out his name, saying words he didn’t understand.
His vision blurred. He gripped her hair tighter and kissed her, pouring it all into her. Every bit of hope he had, it was hers.
SUNDAY. NEW YORK CITY, New York.
Mark glanced up and down the landing, but the hall was clear. He didn’t want an audience for this visit.
Over the years his company had sponsored a number of individuals coming to America for a variety of reasons. With Khalil Muhssan Al-Araji, it was about separating the brains from the body. The young man had been too smart to leave alone and too well-connected to kill. Giving him a one-way ticket to America got him out of Mark’s hair and let him bank a favor.
He strolled down to the last apartment on the right. Music blared inside. Khalil was home. Mark knocked and leaned against the wall.
After a few moments with no answer, he knocked again.
“It’s Mark. Open up,” he called out.
The scrape of a lock and the jangle of a chain were enough to let him know further threats weren’t necessary.
A narrow crack opened and a thin, young man with dark, shrewd eyes stared back at Mark.
“Mr. Forest, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Khalil asked.
“We need to talk.” Mark planted his hand on the door and pushed.
Khalil stepped back before he got smacked in the face. Mark shoved the door closed and glanced around the apartment. It was neat, a bit sparse in furniture, but he’d stayed in worse.
“Would you care for some tea? Coffee?” Though Khalil’s words were polite, his stare was wary. The kid was smart.
“We need to talk about Erin Lopez. Remember her?” Mark pulled his phone out and brought up the staged picture. “Two days ago, she did this to your cousins.”
Khalil stumbled back, his skin going pale.
Mark had him.
People were so fucking stupid.
MONDAY. FRANKFURT AIRPORT, Germany.
Riley stared at his phone with dread gnawing at his stomach.
Erin leaned against his shoulder and stared at the wiggling camera icon.
“Answer it,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder at the others clustered around the coffee stand a dozen yards or so from their gate.
“We only have ten minutes before boarding starts,” Erin said.
She was right. Ten minutes would restrict the amount of embarrassing bullshit Mom might share. Then again, she might come out slinging with the worst, or best, stuff first.
Riley sighed and tapped the ringing icon.
A moment later his mother’s face filled the screen from a downward angle.
“Hey, Mom.” Riley propped his chin in his hand. Her wide grin never failed to bring back warm memories. Warm cookies fresh out of the oven. Ice cream after a long day helping Dad.
“Good Lord, son. You look like hell.” Mom squinted at him.
“Good to see you, too. What are you doing up? Isn’t it like...ten there?” He was a bit fuzzy on the math, but that seemed right.
“Where are you? I thought you were home by now. We’ve been at the hospital. Your silly brother went and fell off the tractor being an ass.”
“I was not!” one of Riley’s brothers yelled from
