Riven Knight

by Devney Perry

Isaiah had kissed me. He was kissing me.

  And damn, he tasted good.

  I leaned into the kiss, drinking him in. I shuddered as his rough hands roamed my curves. I relaxed in the hold of his strong arms.

  Any moment now he’d push me away. He’d retreat behind those sky-high walls and any chance I had at breaking through would evaporate into thin air. So I savored his kiss—every wet lick, every sharp nip—praying it would continue for just one more minute.

  Isaiah let a groan loose and it hummed into my mouth and down to my center. My hands were between us, my fingers splayed over his T-shirt, pressing firm into the warm, taut muscle beneath. I risked a move and let my hands drift lower. His abs really were as hard as they looked.

  His lips broke away from mine and my eyes snapped open. I expected to see horror or disgust. Instead, his gaze was pure lust. The colors darkened, the outer ring of chocolate seeping into the green and gold swirls as Isaiah framed my face.

  I held my breath.

  Would he kiss me? Would he tell me to go?

  I wasn’t ready for this marriage—sham marriage—to end.

  “What do I do?” he whispered.

  “Kiss me,” I whispered back.

  He dipped his head, tilting mine just where he wanted it. The first kiss had been a release. A test. But what came next was so full of heat and power, it left me dizzy.

  Isaiah’s tongue slipped between my lips, caressing against mine in long, languid strokes. He shifted his hips forward, letting me feel the arousal behind his zipper.

  I moaned, my knees weakening. We were moving in a slow shuffle that felt more like swaying in place until I realized Isaiah had taken us to the bed.

  My racing heart skidded to a dead stop.

  Was that where we were going? Sex? My core clenched. I wanted Isaiah more than I’d ever wanted a man in my life, but was this smart? We’d been fighting minutes ago. He’d asked me to leave.

  His fingers dropped from my face and drifted down my neck. They pressed into my skin, branding me with his touch as they slipped lower. In one large hand, he cupped my breast through my sweater, filling his palm.

  My breath hitched. My head lolled and I arched into his grip. Don’t think. I shut off my brain, the common sense and worry. I would not overthink this and sabotage the one good thing I’d felt in months.

  Isaiah was kissing me. We had no audience. We had no ulterior motive. This kiss was mine.

  And so was he for the moment.

  I reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it above his navel to feel his warm skin underneath. The touch caused Isaiah’s muscles to bunch even tighter, but it wasn’t a cringe. This was tension from a lover’s touch. It was anticipation that I’d slide my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. The moment my nails raked over the line of hair below his navel, our kiss took on a whole new intensity, his tongue plundering instead of exploring. Our mouths fused.

  I went for the button on his jeans, needing both hands to flip it open. Isaiah used his other hand to palm my ass.

  “Genevieve,” Isaiah warned, breaking away from our kiss.

  No. My spirits crashed. I’d gone too far. I’d pressed too fast.

  “I want to,” I blurted. My eyes pleaded with his. “Once. Just once.”

  Isaiah studied my face, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Then, after what felt like hours, he nodded.

  I stood on my toes, smashing my mouth against his. My palms skimmed over his short hair for a brief moment before moving in a frenzy to pull up his shirt. With it raised between us, I tugged at the zipper on his jeans. He met me step for step, until my sweater was stripped over my head and the black lace of my bra rubbed against his skin.

  He reached behind his head and yanked off his T-shirt before coming back to me, cupping one breast while the other went to the side zipper on my trousers. They fell into a puddle at my bare feet.

  Then I was up and moving, my lips ripped away from Isaiah’s as he hoisted me by my thighs.

  My center was pressed against his erection, the dull ache becoming a pulse that couldn’t be ignored. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding on as he laid me on the bed, his nose running along my neck as he dragged in a deep breath of my scent.

  Then his tongue went back to work, licking like my skin was made of melting ice cream. Isaiah’s hands went to his jeans, pushing them over his hips. I looked down to see those black boxer briefs I’d grown to love. They contained his straining bulge but just barely.

  He lifted off me, grabbed one of my hands and hauled me up to a seat. Then he flicked the center clasp on my bra, replacing the lace with his hands.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, my head rolling loose the moment he had my nipples pinched between those calloused fingers. I squirmed and lifted my hips, desperate to feel his thick cock pressed against my panties.

  He shifted us deeper into the bed, settling his weight into the cradle of my hips and forcing my thighs apart. My bra was stretched behind me from one elbow to the other. My knees were up and bent, my legs splayed open. It was a wanton position, no holds barred. I closed my eyes and offered my body for his taking.

  Isaiah drew a long, cool line with the tip of his tongue from my collarbone through the valley of my breasts. Then he stepped away, leaving me cold and breathless. The bed shook as he retreated.

  My eyes stayed closed. My breaths came in heavy pants. Was he coming back? If he quit on me now, I would have to flee this apartment. Mortification would demand I disappear forever.

  His knee hit the bed and a relieved cry nearly escaped my lips. I dared to crack open my eyes. They widened when I saw a hot and very naked Isaiah coming my way.

  Good God, he was gorgeous. He was all inked skin strung over tight, bulging muscle. A work of art and beauty.

  Isaiah looked in the mirror and saw everlasting broken pieces, but maybe my broken pieces would fit with his. Together, maybe we’d make a whole.

  My hands went to my panties, pushing them down as my hips lifted off the bed. Isaiah’s eyes were glued to my pussy as I bared myself, kicking the black lace to the floor and shedding the straps of my bra.

  He swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away to meet my gaze. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”

  “Take me anyway.”

  We were a blur as he captured my mouth in another scorching kiss. I was lightheaded and shaking as he positioned himself at my entrance and rocked us together.

  I gasped at the connection. I was almost too full, the emotion too much. Sex had never been like this, threatening to consume me whole. I leaned into it too, taking Isaiah’s face in my hands to kiss him again as he started moving in deep, slow thrusts.

  The build of my orgasm was like a brewing thunderstorm, the clouds billowing, the lightning looming, until there was no choice but to relish the downpour.

  “Isaiah,” I moaned as my orgasm broke.

  He groaned my name, dropping his head into my hair as his body trembled against mine. A sheen of sweat covered us both as he poured his release inside me. And then he collapsed, dropping to give me his weight as we both rode out the aftershocks.

  I clung to him. He clung to me. His arms slid beneath my back, wrapping me up tight.

  We’d both needed that connection for far too long.

  “We didn’t use a condom.” He sighed, sliding out. He flopped into the empty space beside me, staring at the ceiling. It was cold without his body on mine. “Goddamn it. Sorry. I don’t even have any.”

  “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in a long, long time.”

  “Me neither.”

  What about Shannon? Now was not the time to think of her. Not here in this bed. Not when for a few minutes, he was mine.

  I rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom on wobbly legs to clean myself up. I expected to find Isaiah on the couch when I emerged, those walls snapping back into place. When I came out wearing nothing, my steps faltered to see him in bed beneath the covers.

&n
bsp; My side was turned down and waiting.

  “I’m not ready for it to be over.” He cast me a longing glance. “Not yet.”

  Me neither. I smiled and padded to the bed to crawl in beside him.

  We curled together. My head rested on his chest. His hand closed over mine on his stomach. Our legs intertwined.

  The pieces fit.

  “Hi.” My face flushed as I came out of the bathroom the next morning.

  “Hey.” Isaiah turned from his seat at the table that separated the kitchen and the couch. There were only two chairs and the table barely held a large pizza. But we’d been sharing meals there for months.

  He’d dressed while I’d been in the shower. He had on a pair of faded jeans and his normal black T-shirt. His feet were bare.

  I inched my way across the apartment, wishing we could have stayed in the bubble from yesterday. We’d stayed in bed all evening, alternating between sex and sleep, until I’d drifted off into a dreamless slumber. As the morning light had snuck through the windows, reality had come crashing back. I’d woken up to find Isaiah on the couch. He’d moved sometime in the night.

  “So . . .” This was the most awkward morning of my life. Worse than the first morning he’d stayed here after we’d gotten married. “Should we talk?”

  He sighed, nodding to his coffee cup.

  Coffee. Coffee would be good.

  I went to the pot, busying myself by filling a cup and then mixing in some creamer, using the menial tasks to avoid direct eye contact.

  Why had I asked him to talk? I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to escape this apartment and go to work, where I could lose myself in paperwork and research, where I would try not to think about sex with Isaiah.

  Mind-blowing, marriage-shattering sex.

  Shit. I was stupid.

  The one thing I’d been able to count on these past few months was Isaiah. He was my new constant, even with his hot-and-cold behavior. He might be sullen and somber, but he was always there. His friendship was the most important relationship in my life.

  After last night, I could kiss it all goodbye. But conversation couldn’t be avoided. And before we talked about the sex, we had to address everything that had come before.

  “Do you really want to call this quits?” I asked, watching my spoon swirl in the tan liquid in my cup.

  “Yes.”

  Don’t cry. I wasn’t going to cry. Yet. I’d wait until I was in the safety of the bathroom at the office.

  At first, I’d been so focused on leaving Clifton Forge, I hadn’t noticed how it had crept up on me. But it was home. This apartment was my sanctuary. I loved my job and wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Coffee dates with Bryce and Sunday breakfasts with Draven had filled a gaping hole in my heart.

  And at the center of it all was Isaiah.

  “Why?” I whispered. Was he miserable here?

  “For your own sake.”

  I took in those tormented eyes and my heart squeezed. Had sex made it worse? “I don’t understand. Why do you see yourself as such a monster?”

  “Because I am.”

  “You’re not. Do you think I would have stayed when I didn’t have to if I thought you were a terrible human being?”

  I’d stayed because there was so much good in him, even if he didn’t see it himself.

  “Isaiah, I stayed. For you.”

  “You shouldn’t have.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I killed Shannon.”

  “But it was an accident.” Right? They called them accidents for a reason, because no person was at fault.

  “You only got a piece of the story from Mom.”

  “Then tell me the whole story. Please?” I begged.

  Isaiah stood and rubbed the back of his neck as he paced the open space in front of the couch. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Either you tell me, or I’m left guessing. I’ve been guessing for months. Do you really think the truth is worse than anything I’ve imagined?”

  He went to the couch, collapsing onto the edge. “Shannon was my best friend. I met her after she showed up on Kaine’s doorstep one morning and told him she was pregnant.”

  I jerked, the coffee sloshing over the rim of my mug. “Kaine?”

  He nodded. “They met in a bar. Hooked up. Went their separate ways. She came back when she found out she was pregnant.”

  “Oh.” It hadn’t been Isaiah’s baby.

  “She moved in with Kaine but they weren’t together. But Kaine wouldn’t have had it any other way. He didn’t want to miss anything with the pregnancy. They dated for a while. He even asked Shannon to marry him, but they didn’t love one another, not like that. She turned him down.”

  My heart was in my throat as he spoke. His voice was laced with so much pain and regret, it made breathing difficult.

  “They didn’t work as a couple, but as roommates, things were pretty good. The excitement for the baby just drowned out everything else. Mom was over the moon. I was looking forward to becoming an uncle. And Shannon, she would have been a good mother. The best. No matter where she went, she had a pregnancy book in her purse. I think she’d nearly memorized the thing by the time she, uh . . . died.”

  “How?”

  “I killed her.”

  He kept saying that, but it made no sense. He wasn’t a murderer. He was a protector. A good man with a broken heart.

  “How?” I needed details so I could prove him wrong.

  “She was there all the time. At Kaine’s. And he was my brother. My best friend. So I hung out at his place a lot too.”

  “You fell in love with her?”

  He stared blankly across the apartment. “She smiled all the time. And she loved me. She chose me, not Kaine. Not many people did that.”

  “Did Kaine know?”

  Isaiah shook his head. “No. We didn’t want to tell him until it was the right time. He was so focused on the baby, building a bassinet and helping narrow down names, we didn’t want to take that from him. It was his baby, not mine.”

  I put a hand over my aching heart. How hard had that been for him? To see his brother’s child growing inside the woman he loved?

  “When she was about eight months’ pregnant, she told me she wanted to move out. That she wanted us to find a place to settle together. I was still nervous about telling Kaine, but Shannon had such faith that we’d make it work. ‘Our beautiful unusual family.’ That’s what she called us.”

  His eyes were glassy. A tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away. “I didn’t want to just move in together. I wanted to marry her so I asked her to dinner one night. Got down on one knee and proposed. The restaurant cheered. Shannon cried.”

  My heart thundered. My throat burned at the mental picture.

  I bet he’d laughed. I bet he’d smiled. It was strange to think of him happy and in love, something I hadn’t seen with my own eyes, but I could imagine it as clearly as I saw him hunched on the couch.

  He wasn’t that man anymore.

  Shannon’s version of Isaiah had died with her.

  “I had three beers to celebrate when I should have stopped at two. I wasn’t hammered but I shouldn’t have had that last beer. On the drive home, I was teasing her about how I’d have to get her ring resized after the baby because her knuckles were so fat. They weren’t. We were laughing. I had one hand on the wheel and I leaned over because I wanted to kiss her. We didn’t get to kiss much because we were too worried Kaine would find out.”

  I closed my eyes, bracing for the rest. I didn’t need him to continue. The rest was easy to assume with near certainty. But Isaiah kept talking, the story no longer for me, but for himself.

  Had he told anyone since the accident? A cellmate in prison? Or had he held it inside all this time?

  “I blew through a stop sign going forty in a twenty-five and got T-boned by a truck going thirty. That’s what the police report said. All I know was it felt like we got hit by a train. I got knocked around. The truck pushed us cl
ear through the intersection. When I got my bearings back, Shannon was . . .”

  Gone.

  She’d died. And the baby too.

  A tear fell down my cheek, landing on the floor by my foot.

  It all made sense now. Why he was so relieved to see Kaine happy. Why he didn’t drink. Why he acted so tense and miserable when he was in the car with me.

  This accident had altered the path of his life.

  I set my coffee aside and went to the couch. Isaiah kept his gaze forward, even as I placed my hand on his thigh. “It was an accident.”

  “No, I killed them.”

  “No, it was an accident,” I repeated. “I know the difference. You killed the man in the cabin.”

  He turned to me, the sorrow disappearing in confusion. “Huh?”

  “You strangled him to death. You killed him.”

  He blinked. “Yeah. So?”

  “So? Did you love him? That man?”

  “No.”

  “Do you feel guilty for killing him?”

  His jaw ticked. “No.”

  “If you need to claim a murder, claim that murder. But don’t put Shannon’s life on your hands. It was an accident. And from what I can tell, the only person who blames you is yourself.”

  He studied my face, his expression blank. He’d gone too many years thinking he’d killed Shannon. That he’d killed Kaine’s baby. He’d spent too many days and nights blaming himself. I probably wasn’t the first person to try and convince him it was an accident.

  I wasn’t the first person who’d fail.

  Until Isaiah decided to give himself a reprieve, he’d never be free to move on from Shannon’s death.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  He faced forward, nodding his head. “Now you see.”

  “See what?”

  “Why you have to go. Because I don’t deserve to have you here. Not after what I did. And I’ve got nothing to give you.”

  Wrong again. He had love to give. It might not show on the surface, but it was there, peeking out when he looked at his brother. Or hugged his mom. Or played with his nephews. Isaiah was shoving me out the door because he was terrified of the connection between us.

  “I’m not leaving. I made that decision months ago and I’m not changing my mind now.”