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I blink hard, remembering how that night felt.
"Just say it, and I won't touch you ever again," Riggs calmly says, but it's a threat. He knows as much as I fight him to stay away, it's killing me.
I swallow hard, not taking my eyes off his, and wonder again how we got here.
The car stops, and the driver turns the engine off. Riggs slowly removes his hand, puts it under his nose, and inhales deeply. My heart races faster, and he leans into my ear, declaring, "My favorite memories include eating your pussy."
I close my eyes and try to maintain my breathing, but the needy ache I can't escape only intensifies.
To make things worse, Riggs adds, "I'm doing it tonight until you make that sound that I love."
I don't know what he means. He always says it, but I never know what he's referencing. Everything throbs at the thought of him bringing me to the place where I cry out whatever it is he wants me to, but I'm not ready to forgive him.
But I need to submit. It's killing me.
No, I don't.
Riggs studies me for a brief moment, then chuckles. He knocks on the window, and the door opens. A gust of wind blows snowflakes into the SUV, and he gets out and quickly escorts me into the hotel.
We go past the check-in desk, into the elevator, and to the level below the penthouse. When the doors open, I find my senses and say, "I'm not staying in your room."
Arrogance fills him. "I knew you'd say that. Don't worry, pet. You have your own space."
He guides me down the hall, pulls a key card out of his pocket, and unlocks the door.
"Where did you get that?" I ask.
Amusement fills his expression. "I have people. They brought it to the arena."
"Oh. Right."
He motions for me to go into the room.
I step inside the suite, then turn. "What room are you in?"
He shuts the door behind him and steers me around the room. "This is your suite. That's mine." He points to a doorway, but the doors have been removed.
I gape at him.
"You can have that one if you prefer," he states.
"Did you have the door removed?"
He smiles. "Do you have a problem with it?"
Anger sears through me. "Seriously, Riggs? What part about I'm not ready to forgive you do you not get?"
"I gave you tons of space," he claims.
"You removed the door!"
"So? You're my wife. Or have you forgotten?" he accuses.
I sarcastically laugh. "Like you would ever let me forget it."
He steps toward me, and I retreat until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I fall on my butt. He places his palms near my hips and seethes, "That's right. I won't. You took a vow for me, and I took one for you."
My pulse skyrockets, pounding hard between my ears. I shout, "I don't need this right now! I have a show, and I'm already nervous enough."
