"I was planning on spending my honeymoon with you while you kept up the charade with that fool," Riley murmured, her voice laced with amusement.
She watched intently as Tryson's hand moved toward his waist, his fingers grazing the leather of his belt.
A slow, dangerous smile curled on her lips, anticipation flickering in her eyes.
He unfastened the buckle with deliberate precision, the faint clink of metal breaking the tense silence between them.
Riley's tongue flicked over her lips as he slid the belt free.
Then, with measured steps, he closed the distance between them, looping the belt around her neck. A sharp tug lifted her chin, forcing her to meet the intensity of his dark, unreadable gaze.
"How wild," Riley purred, a dark smile playing on her lips as her fingers brushed over his hand—the very one tightening the belt around her neck.
"So… is this what you do to her too?" she mused, her voice dripping with mischief.