Without thinking, I reach for him, but he just steps away from my fingers, his grin suggesting that he knows he’s tormenting me.

I expect him to get onto the bed, but first he grabs up the vest. I see him reach into a slim pocket on the inside, and then toss something onto the bedside table. I glance over and see a packet of condoms. “Boy Scout,” he says, making me laugh.

Then he gets onto the bed and straddles me. It’s almost three in the morning, and I’ve been through a lot, but the moment his skin touches mine, all traces of exhaustion leave me, overcome by the sheer power of this man.

“I want to hold you,” he tells me. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. But first, I have to be inside you.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Oh, dear God, yes.”

We move together, slow and easy. Fingers touching. Mouths teasing. Our bodies fit perfectly, and he takes me on my back, my knees bent up to my chest so that he can go deep, his rhythmic thrusts filling me and making the bed shake with the motion. His body covers me, and his cock fills me, and as we move together, I lose my sense of self. We’re one, a unit, and I can’t tell where he begins and I end. Even when he starts to come, I feel the ripples of his release break through me, taking me over the edge as well.

And when he calls out, his voice a raw, guttural groan, for me to go over with him, I break apart, my body answering his command without question, shattering with him, and then coming back together in his arms.

We stay like that, him on top of me, looking into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and I believe it. Because as I look deep into Riley’s dark eyes, I know that I’m seeing the full measure of the man. More than that, I know that I love him. I think I always have.

What I don’t know is if he feels the same way. Or, if he does, how we can possibly make this work.

Those same thoughts swirl in my head as we spoon together, my back to his chest, as sleep creeps up on us.

I, however, fight it back. It’s not sleep I want. It’s Riley. It’s a future. And to get there, we have to reconcile the past.

I take a deep breath, then exhale, hoping he hasn’t drifted off already. “About before,” I say. “The years before, not earlier today.”

“Yes?” His voice is tired, but I know I have his attention.

“It’s not just that seeing you made me remember my father. That’s not the only reason I pushed you away.”