Riley
Lucas stormed into my office like a hurricane, no knock, no warning—just a burst of angry energy and wounded pride. I didn’t even flinch.
“So that’s it?” he demanded, chest rising and falling like he’d run the whole way here. “You’re just gonna leave?”
I stayed seated, calm on the outside, chaos underneath. I looked up slowly, expression unreadable. “I told you yesterday.”
“You announced it,” he said, voice sharp, almost bitter. “Like you were reading the weather report.”
I rose to my feet, eyes level with his. “What do you want me to say, Lucas? That I’m not allowed to have a future without you?”
“I offered you one,” he shot back, taking a step forward. “Right here.”
“And I want something more than charity from the Lucas Rivera Foundation.”
He looked like I slapped him. “It wasn’t charity,” he said, voice cracking just enough to show the hurt underneath. “It was a chance—for us. For you to build something real without leaving.”
My jaw tightened. His words made it harder to breathe.
“You had a chance for us,” I said quietly. “Years ago.”
“And I was stupid,” he said, no hesitation this time. “But I’m here now. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
I turned my back to him, grabbing a file from my desk just to keep my hands from shaking. “Too late, Lucas.”
“Why are you punishing me for making a mistake when we were kids?”
That stopped me. I turned, eyes blazing. “Because that mistake broke me!”
He went silent. Not defensive. Just still.
And then he crossed the room. Slowly. Like he was approaching something fragile. Something alive.
“Then let me fix it,” he whispered, voice low and rough.
His hand slid to my waist—slow, certain, and maddeningly familiar.
I should’ve stepped back. I should’ve shoved him away. Told him we were too far gone.
But I didn’t.
“Lucas…” My voice cracked. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” His eyes locked on mine, burning. “You don’t want me to?”
That was the problem. I did. I always did.
“Because you always do this,” I whispered. “You leave. You ruin me. Then you touch me like you never meant any of it.”
His hand tightened at my waist. “I never stopped meaning it. You think I don’t wake up every night wishing I could take it all back?”
“You don’t get to say that,” I choked. “You don’t get to touch me like you mean it now.”
“Then tell me to stop.” His forehead leaned into mine, his breath mixing with mine. “Tell me to walk away. I’ll do it. But don’t lie to me, Riley.”
I didn’t say anything.
And it was too late.
He kissed me.
Hard. Raw. Like he needed to prove something—like he couldn’t bear another second of pretending we weren’t still tethered to each other.
His lips crashed into mine and I shattered.
Every part of me that swore I was over him broke on impact. The ache. The fire. The damn memories—I felt them all in his mouth.
I didn’t pull away.
I pulled him closer.
My arms wrapped around his neck like muscle memory, like my body still knew exactly where to go. He groaned into the kiss, fingers trailing up my spine, dragging fire with them.
“You still taste the same,” he muttered against my mouth, desperate and breathless. “Like cherry lip balm and unfinished business.”
I gasped against his lips. “You’re such an asshole.”
“And yet you’re still kissing me.”
The kiss deepened, more bruising now. His teeth caught my bottom lip and I whimpered into his mouth. His hand cupped my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek like I was something fragile—and then gripping me like he couldn’t let go.
“This shouldn’t be happening,” I said, breathless.
“Then stop me.”
I didn’t.
Instead, I kissed him like I remembered everything—his touch, his mouth, the way his hands always knew how to undo me.
It was messy. Angry. Addictive.
We finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed together, both stunned by what we’d just let happen.
His voice was hoarse. “Riles…”
I looked at him—really looked at him. His lips swollen, his eyes dark, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile.
I didn’t say anything. Because I didn’t know what scared me more.
The kiss.
Or how much I’d wanted it.
I looked up at him, heart slamming against my ribs. “I hate how you do this.”
His forehead rested against mine. “Do what?”
“Make me want to stay.”
A pause. A beat of silence so thick it hurt.
“Then don’t go,” he whispered.
I pulled back. Took one step. Then another.
My lips still tingled. My heart cracked right down the middle.