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She didn’t want to know what he’d done. He was here now.

“I’m sorry I left,” he whispered against her lips, rolling his hips to nudge her legs further apart. The anger hid the roiling turmoil in her chest.

“You should be.” She opened his belt as he kissed her neck. She’d just gotten his jeans open when he caught both of her hands, holding them in one hand behind her back. He flicked her jeans open easily with his other hand.

She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer, sinking her teeth into his shoulder muscle. She wanted to punish him, to make him suffer, for leaving. For coming back. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

He slid her jeans down, pulling her panties off with them, and Riley gasped as the cold counter bit bare skin. Saint’s mouth was hot, and he recaptured her hands and bent her backward over his arm. Her bare heat pressed against his open jeans, and a moan escaped. He pulled back, sliding his hand between them, barely touching her.

“Tell me you want this.” His voice was low, but he searched her eyes, and she knew he’d stop if she showed even the slightest hesitation.

“I want this,” she said. “Now.” Her demand was met with a flash of hunger over his face.

His fingertips traced delicately up her inner thigh, a ghost of the touch she craved.

“Don’t fuck with me, Saint, I mean it.” The growl in her voice scraped her throat. He laughed again and moved a finger slowly through her wetness, tracing her opening. He slowly pushed in, and she gasped, tension building while she relaxed into him.

Dissonance.

He pumped in and out, lazily, until she was squirming to get closer. She glared at him, about to make more demands, when he dropped his mouth to hers. His kisses were a drug that made her forget every hesitation and frustration she had. They were dangerous, especially with his fingers stroking and curling.

She whimpered when he pulled out.

He broke their kiss to press his finger onto her tongue until she sucked it clean while he watched. Arousal flooded her core, aching. He rumbled in approval, and his tongue swept into her mouth to lick and taste too.

Riley trembled with need.

He let go of her hands and pulled her to the edge of the counter, then pushed his own pants down. He pulled back and ran his fist along his length, making sure she watched. Her mouth went dry. A small foil packet materialized out of his pocket. Always prepared.

Saint gave her that half-smile, and Riley’s core pulsed.

This was finally—finally—happening.

While she was pissed.

Damn him.

He tugged her shirt over her head and released the snap of her bra. She pulled his t-shirt up and pressed her palms against the warm skin of his torso, scratching lightly. Muscles moved and shifted, indentations prominent.

They were both naked, and the streetlights painted them in shadows, removing all colour from the room.

He brought his free hand to the back of her head and wove his fingers through her loose hair. He tipped her head back, searching her face as he guided himself to her entrance and stopped.

She whimpered, eyes closing as his grip tightened in her hair, pinpricks rippling over her scalp.

“Look at me, sweet girl,” he said, voice low and controlled.

Her eyes flew open, and he pushed into her, one inch at a time.

“That’s it.”

She moaned, and her head became heavy in his hand, his other arm tight around her waist. He let her adjust for a moment before he clamped her hips closer and started to move. She couldn’t help when her eyes rolled back in her head as he plunged deeper, only to slowly drag out and pound forward again. She panted at the stretch, arching off the cold counter, held in his arms as he drove them together again and again.

Saint leaned forward and nipped her ear. “Make yourself come with your fingers,” he ordered, and goosebumps rose over her shoulders and down her spine. No one had—it didn’t matter. She circled her clit and then touched him, moving in and out of her, and coated her fingers in slick arousal. He watched her touch herself like it was art.

She bucked her hips forward, driving him deeper than she could take. She couldn’t stop herself as her body took what it wanted.

He kept a tight hold of her hair, controlling her while she chased the friction. Pleasure built between the rhythm he set and her own fingers, and she panted, chest heaving. He slowed them, dark eyes on her face. He ducked his head to kiss her, and their tongues met while he rocked in and out. He was so careful with her, even as she clawed at his back, moaning into his mouth. Everything was intense and powerful, and she couldn’t tell who was really in control. Saint watched her so carefully, for every flicker on her face, adjusting his pace and angle to keep her close but not tipping over.