Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(32)

She leans up on her toes to kiss me again. It’s a sweet kiss, but nonetheless heated. And when I move to deepen it, she immediately opens and strokes her tongue against mine. It’s a dance we have mastered, and while we still haven’t had sex or really done anything below the waist, these moments are more than enough.

I can tell that Riley wants more, but she’s pretty freaked out any time I try to take it further. The mixture of fear and longing in her eyes doesn’t sit well with me. It worries the hell out of me when I try to figure out what she could possibly be afraid of when she so obviously wants to be with me. However, besides those few moments in bed before I decided to stop trying to push her, I haven’t seen Riley scared at all. She doesn’t flinch from me anymore, even when I make sudden movements. It might have only been a week now, but I would say, given how we started, Riley and I have made great strides toward achieving something normal.

"Holy shit, Adam. That lasagna was amazing," she says, curling up on the couch after dinner.

"Better than my shrimp?" I ask, sitting down next to her and pulling her into my side.

"You burnt the shrimp. So I’m going to have to say yes."

"I did not burn them! They were blackened. It’s a real, honest-to-God flavor."

"Right. Whatever you need to tell yourself." She begins to giggle as I drag her across my lap, tickling her. "Stop! That’s not fair! You’re bigger than I am" she squeals, trying to break out of my arms.

"What’s wrong, Riley? Not so fond of my body anymore?"

"I didn’t say all that." She continues to laugh but finally relaxes, lying down with her head on my lap.

I look down at her, wishing her blue eyes were staring back up at me. "Let me buy you clear contacts."

"What? No way. Adam, I told you. The kind I need are expensive. I’ll be fine with the brown ones until I run out." She awkwardly looks away, once again making me feel like she's hiding something.

"I can afford them. Just give me your prescription and I’ll order them tomorrow."

"No. I can’t let you do that. Trust me, they are fine. Besides, I actually like the brown."

"No, you don’t. There is no way in the world someone who has eyes like yours would want to turn them brown. Same thing with your hair. I know you’re a blonde, Riley."

She bolts straight up out of my lap. "Shut up, Adam. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, you’re an unemployed boxer. I’m sitting in your apartment, remember? Buy new pots and pans before worrying about my contacts," she says with a bitchy tone I’ve never heard her use before.

"If I had the money, would you let me buy them for you?" I snap back at her.

"Nope." She crosses her arms and leans away from me.

I let out a sigh and rub my eyes. "Why do I always feel like you’re using those f*cking contacts to hide from me?" Her eyes go wide with surprise before she turns away completely. "See? Just like that."

"What is your obsession with my eyes?" she mumbles.

"They’re beautiful! And more than that, they are you. I already feel there is a lot I don’t know about you. At least show me something real."

"There’s a lot I don’t know about you either, you know," she snaps. Then she sucks in a deep breath and her frustration begins to fade. "We’re just getting to know each other. We’ll figure it all out over time." She offers me a weak smile before crawling back across the couch and into my lap. She peppers kisses over my face and down my neck. "We’ll get to know each other eventually."

"Jesus." I give her a half smile, knowing that there has never been a more perfect moment to tell her the truth. Shit. This is going to suck. "What’s your middle name, Riley?" I ask then lean in for a deep kiss.

"Um, Jean," she stutters out when I pull away.

"Was that a hard question?" I tease, but she stills.

"No. I just… I mean, I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all."

"Well, Riley Jean, my middle name is Adam."

"Really? What’s your first name?" she asks.

I lean in for one last kiss, giving it everything I’ve got and praying it’s not the last. "Slate."

"Oh, well, I can definitely see why you go by Adam," she says with a shrug that makes me laugh and my chest ache.

"Actually, no one calls me Adam but you. My name is Slate Andrews, and I’m not an amateur boxer down on his luck. I’m actually a very successful professional boxer."

"What?" She leans away in disbelief. "What do you mean very successful?" she asks as her face pales.

"I mean, I’m currently the heavyweight champion of the world. For two straight years now."

"Yeah, right. Are you messing with me?" The color slightly returns to her face as her lips tilt in a small smile. But it all disappears when I shake my head. "Why the hell are you living here then if you’re some big-time fighter?"

"I grew up in this apartment. A few years ago, I bought it so I could escape the celebrity lifestyle in LA. I’m not built for that kind of life. I just needed somewhere to hide after fights."

"You’re a celebrity?" she breathes as tears spring to her eyes.