He flicks his tongue over my entrance, teasing me before plunging inside. The sudden intrusion makes me cry out, my hands tightening on the headboard.
I forget my fear of smothering him and lean my full weight on him, my hips now moving rhythmically as I climb higher and higher toward my peak. The coil in my belly winds tighter with each swipe of his tongue.
“Ryder, God, Ryder,” I moan, throwing my head back.
His hands leave my hips, sliding up to cup my breasts. Histhumbs circle my nipples, adding another layer of sensation to the already overwhelming pleasure. I’m on fire, my skin slick with sweat, every nerve ending alive and singing.
The pressure builds and builds, a tidal wave threatening to crash over me. “More,” I cry out, desperation coloring my voice. “More, please!”
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. I explode, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. My thighs quake, my entire body trembling as I become a writhing mess of ecstasy.
Ryder doesn’t stop lapping at me through my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until it borders on too much. Only then does he slowly ease off, placing soft kisses on my inner thighs as I come down from my high.
I collapse forward, bracing myself on the headboard, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Ryder’s hands stroke my sides soothingly, grounding me.
“Want more?”
Twenty
CORA
Valerie Johnson sashays out of my room, her coat swishing. It’s a ridiculous sight in the sweltering Hawaiian heat. Her fiancé, Blaze, trails behind her like a lost puppy. The moment the door clicks shut, I let my plastered-on smile drop.
“God,” I groan, collapsing onto the plush sofa. “I can’t believe she finally agreed. Now I just need to make sure everything she requested gets on that flight tomorrow.”
“You’re good at this,” Ryder says, emerging from his corner post.
He’d been so quiet I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Good at what?” I ask, turning to face him.
“People. Talking to them. Convincing them you know what you’re doing, even when they’re difficult.” There’s a hint of admiration in his tone that makes my heart flutter.
My eyes drift to his full lips, memories of our kissesflooding back. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but my heart picks up its pace. This is how I react every time I’m near him. I can’t resist it.
His phone chimes with an incoming message. Before he can stop me, I snatch it from his back pocket and dash behind the sofa, giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Give me that,” he demands, hand outstretched. There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Panic, maybe?
“Who’s texting you?” I glance at the screen, my playful mood evaporating. “Who’s Annabelle?”
His mouth tightens into a straight line. “Give me the phone, Cora,” he says, his voice icy. The sudden change in his demeanor catches me off guard.
My eyes widen. Is he angry? Likereallyangry?
His reaction only fuels my curiosity. I turn the device toward him, using his face to unlock it and tap on the message.
“Damn it, Cora, give it to me now.” Ryder lunges at me, and we tumble to the floor. He grabs me in his arms, and before I can process what’s happening, he flips us, cushioning my fall with his body.
I lie on top of him, both of us breathing hard. My arms rest on his muscular chest, every hard angle of his body pressed against mine. But I refuse to let him dodge the question.
“Who’s Annabelle, and why is she thanking you for the money? Is she a prostitute?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“Get off me, Cora.”
I stay put, stubbornness overriding my common sense. “Who is she?”
He closes his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands. When he speaks, his voice is heavy with emotion. “She’s the widow of someone from my team.”
