Page 88 of A Match Made in Error

“Keep talking like that, and I’m going to do something deeply irresponsible.” His warning falls on deaf ears as I finger the waistband of his undergarments. He hisses between his teeth, eyes closing like he’s holding on to the last bit of his restraint. “Sweetheart, you’re playing with fire.” His eyes open, shining with something that looks like flames. “Lucky for you, I burn pretty.”

Steam drifts across the surface of the spring in slow, silver ribbons, softening the world into quiet shapes of rock and water and moonlight. I’m still sitting on the shallow ledge carved into the stone, the warm water lapping gently against my ribs, my pulse unsteady from everything Riven has just said and what I know—I hope—will come next.

Now, he isn’t looking at me like he’s about to make a joke.

He’s watching me like the answer to something he’s been searching for.

The silence between us feels different now, as if it’s full instead of awkward, like the air before the tide turns.

I trace a finger through the surface of the water just to give my hands something to do. The spring glows faintly beneath us, pale mineral light catching along Riven’s shoulders where the steam parts around him.

“You’re staring,” I murmur, unable to look up yet.

“Can you blame me?” He punctuates his praise with a wicked grin.

The warmth in his voice makes my chest tighten. Slowly, I lift my gaze. He’s closer than he was a moment ago, but I don’t remember him moving. Water ripples softly between us. Riven rests one arm along the stone ledge behind me, not quite touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat of him through the humid air.

For years, we’ve sat like this, shoulder to shoulder at tavern tables, knees knocking beneath card games, hands brushing when we reached for the same mug. But this feels entirely different. Dangerous in a quieter way.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he says softly.

“Am I?”

“Always.”

A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it, the sound dissolving quickly into the hush of the secluded basin.

The rock walls rise around us like protective barriers, the ocean and chaos only a distant whisper far away. No voices. No footsteps. No world beyond this small pocket of warmth and moonlight. Only us.

I shift slightly on the stone, my shoulder brushing his chest. Riven stills. The movement is tiny, but it sends a ripple through the air between us, something electric and fragile all at once.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, “you keep doing that, and I might start thinking it’s intentional.”

My breath catches. For so long, I’ve hidden the way I look at him, the way my heart betrays me whenever he smiles. But tonight, everything feels different. The truth is free. And I no longer have to hide anything.

“It is,” I say quietly. The words barely leave my lips before I realize how close he is now. Riven’s hand lifts slowly, giving me more than enough time to pull away if I want to.

I don’t.

His fingers brush a damp strand of hair back from my cheek, the touch almost reverent. My breath trembles as his hand lingers there, warm against my skin.

“Poppy,” he says, and somehow, my name has never sounded like that before.

Not teasing.

Not careless.

Something softer.

Something that makes my heart feel full.

I tilt my face up without thinking. Riven’s gaze drops to my mouth. For a moment, neither of us moves. The tension that has lived quietly between us for years finally drawing tight enough to snap.

When he finally closes the distance and kisses me, it isn’t rushed.

It’s slow. Careful.

Like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than either of us realized.