Fire Burning

Pretty Lies

The windows of the truck were still fogged up, sticky with the heat of everything we’d just done.
I leaned back against the seat, boneless and flushed, pulling my sweatshirt over my head with shaking hands.

Riley smirked lazily from the driver’s seat, watching me like he wasn’t quite finished with me yet.
"You good, pretty girl?" he asked, voice rough and slow.

I nodded, cheeks burning, a messy little smile tugging at my mouth.

He reached over the console, threading his fingers through mine, his thumb tracing light circles on my skin.
The truck smelled like us — skin, sweat, perfume, something reckless underneath it all.
I squeezed his hand tighter.

“You're mine now," he said casually, like he was just stating a fact. Not a question. Not a hope.
Like it was already decided.

I swallowed hard, heart pounding, but the warmth that bloomed in my chest was impossible to hide.
I didn’t say anything.
I just smiled at him.

And that was enough.

But underneath the heat still crawling on my skin… a quiet ache stirred in my chest.
A small, uncertain voice I shoved down.

---

The drive back home was slow, quiet.
The windows were cracked to let the cold air slice through the heat still hanging thick between us.

Riley kept glancing at me, the corner of his mouth twitching like he couldn’t stop himself.
He looked... wrecked. Happy. Proud.

His hand stayed locked with mine the whole way, resting on the console between us.
Every now and then, his thumb would brush mine, lazy and possessive, like he needed the reminder that I was still there.

When he pulled into the driveway, he didn’t let go immediately.
He just watched me, his gaze dragging over every inch of my face.

“You call me if you need anything,” he said, voice low and steady.
"I don't care what time it is. Anything you need, pretty girl."

"I will," I whispered, chest tight.

He leaned across the seat and kissed me again — slow, lingering — like he wasn't ready to let me go yet.
Neither was I.

When I finally pulled back, he smiled — that slow, devastating grin that made my knees weak — and let me go.

I climbed out of the truck on shaky legs, feeling him watch me the entire way to the front door.

I didn’t look back.

But I didn’t have to.
I could feel him in every step I took.

---

The house was quiet, lit only by the flickering blue light of the TV.
Sarah and Jackson were curled up on the couch, half-asleep.

Sarah stirred when I walked in, blinking blearily at me.
"You home?" she mumbled.

"Yeah," I whispered. "Night."

She nodded, already drifting back to sleep.

I slipped upstairs, careful not to make a sound, and dropped my duffel bag at the foot of my bed.
The room felt different somehow — heavier, sweeter — like I wasn’t the same girl who'd left it a few hours ago.

I flopped onto the bed, hugging a pillow to my chest, trying to catch my breath and failing miserably.

The night replayed behind my eyelids in flashes — Riley's hands, his mouth, the way he'd whispered mine into my skin like a prayer.