Chapter 111

Chapter 111
Riley’s P.O.V
My heart was still racing from what had happened. Not just the bus stop, or the way those guys had looked at me like I was something they could take—but what came after. The way Rhys looked at me. Protected me. Touched me.
Even now, in the quiet hum of the car, the sensation of his skin on mine still lingered like a flame that wouldn’t go out.
I sat curled up in the passenger seat, the oversized sweater clinging to my still-damp skin, my thighs pressed together, trying to make sense of everything and failing. Rhys hadn’t said much since I changed. Just kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight, his hands tense around the wheel.
I should’ve been thinking about how close I came to something awful tonight.
But all I could think about was how close I came to him.
The way his voice had dropped when he said my name. How gentle his hands were, even when everything about him screamed danger. There was a fire in him, something barely controlled, and I felt it, right there beneath the surface.
And it was for me.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, wondering what he was thinking. If he regretted it. If this was still part of whatever plan he had to keep me close.
But then, without a word, he pulled the car off the road.
The tires crunched against gravel as we slowed into a clearing just past the tree line, far enough that the world felt quiet. Secluded. I blinked, confused.
“We haven’t gotten to my house yet,” I said, voice soft but steady.
“I know,” he muttered, low and unreadable.
Then he turned in his seat to face me. Not just his eyes, his entire body shifted, focused, like I was the only thing he could see.
And then he leaned in, slow, deliberate. His hand reached across the seat and tilted the passenger chair back with a soft click.
My breath hitched.
“Rhys…” I whispered, half-question, half-plea.
His lips were just inches from mine, breath warm and heavy on my skin as he bent closer, brushing my hair gently off my face.
“I want to touch you,” he whispered, voice thick with restraint. “Can I?”
My body answered before my brain could catch up. A shiver rolled down my spine, every nerve lit like fire beneath my skin. I couldn’t think, couldn’t reason.
“Yes,”I stammered, barely louder than the rain pattering on the windshield. “Ye…s.”
That was all it took.
Rhys moved over the center console, his hand braced beside me, his other palm finding my cheek. His mouth met mine with sudden, fierce urgency. The kiss was nothing like the hesitant first brush of lips I’d imagined. It was hungry, overwhelming, consuming.
And I wanted it. All of it.
My hands flew up around his neck, pulling him closer as our mouths moved against each other with growing desperation. The tension between us snapped like a rubber band stretched too far—this wasn’t careful, wasn’t planned. It was instinct.
His lips left mine only to trail down my jaw, nipping lightly at the skin just beneath my ear, and I gasped, arching into him. I could feel his breath against my throat, hot and fast. His hand slipped under the hem of the sweater, fingers trailing against my bare thigh.
Then higher.
I moaned before I could stop myself.
“Ohh… gosh,” I gasped, my hips shifting without permission.
“I like that, Riley,”he murmured, voice like velvet against my skin. “I want to hear you moan.”
And I did.
I couldn’t stop.
When his fingers slipped between my thighs and found the slick heat waiting for him, I nearly came apart. My body trembled as he pressed inside me, slow but firm, his touch careful—almost reverent. His eyes were on me the whole time, watching every reaction, learning what made me twitch, what made me gasp, what made me whisper his name like it was the only word I knew.
“Gosh, Riley,” he muttered, low and rough. “You’re so wet.”
I bit my lip, digging my nails into his shoulder.
“I would love to be inside of you,”he whispered, voice ragged. “But not now.”
I whimpered as he pulled his hand away. The sudden absence made me ache.
Before I could say anything, he kissed me again—softer this time, almost apologetic. Then he straightened, started the car, and didn’t look at me again.
The drive back was silent, but it wasn’t empty.
The air between us buzzed with something electric. Something real. I kept my hands in my lap, heart thudding so loud it drowned out the engine. I couldn’t look at him. Not because I was ashamed—but because if I did, I knew I’d fall deeper.
And I was already so far gone.
When we finally pulled up to the edge of my family’s estate, I reached for the door handle with trembling fingers.
“Thank you,”I whispered. My voice sounded too small, too soft.
“For what?” His voice was quiet too.
For saving me. For seeing me. For touching me like I mattered.
But I didn’t say any of that.
“…For bringing me home,” I said instead.
And I stepped out of the car without looking back.
The cold air hit me instantly, but I barely felt it. I just walked, sweater clinging to me like a second skin, skin still tingling from where he’d touched me. I didn’t dare glance behind, even when I heard the car still idling for a few seconds longer.
I needed to breathe. To think.
But my thoughts were a mess, tangled with the memory of his lips, the heat of his breath, the way he said my name like it was sacred.
I was supposed to stay away from boys like Rhys. Mysterious. Dangerous. Too intense. My parents would kill me if they knew.
But danger had never felt this good.
And deep down, I didn’t want to stay away.
I wanted more.
Of him.
Of us.
Of whatever this was becoming.
Even if it broke me.
Even if it broke everything.