But he stands and comes closer until our chests practically touch. “I don’t want to be afraid. I . . . It’s . . .”
His head drops forward, but then he sucks in a breath and groans. I look down, wanting to know what caused that reaction. Yeah, fuck. Should’ve guessed. The bulge in the front of my jeans is obscene. My damn dick is practically trying to punch its way out.
Ryan clears his throat as he looks up, those deep amber eyes that look like melted honey meeting mine. “Can . . . Can I kiss you? I want to kiss—”
I press my lips to his. Not demanding. Not hungry. Though I fucking am. And it’s taking every ounce of control to keep myself in check. But I need to, because I don’t want him to fall apart because of me again.
We stand there, lips pressed together. It's awkward as hell. Our eyes are open and we’re looking at each other. But it's blurry. He looks fucking cross-eyed this close.
Then his eyes flutter shut, and his tongue drags across the seam of my mouth. I let him in. My knuckles press into my lower back, gripping the waistband of my jeans to keep my hands off him until he’s ready.
I push deeper, tongue sliding against his, taking his mouth like it's mine to claim. He tastes like spearmint toothpaste, and I want to lick every inch of his mouth until all he tastes like is me.
His tongue fights back this time, not like that first desperate kiss where he didn't know what to do. I suck it into my mouth, and he makes this broken sound that goes straight to my dick.
Ryan’s huge hands cup my face, his fingers spanning from my jaw to behind my ears. He tilts my head back, angling me where he wants, and fuck, my neck strains with how far up I have to reach. Six inches never felt like so much until right now. I’m practically on my tiptoes so I can reach his mouth.
My teeth catch his bottom lip, biting down until he gasps. I lick into that gasp, fucking his mouth with my tongue. His entire body shudders, his broad chest pressing against mine, one of those tree-trunk thighs pushed between my legs. I rock against it as he kisses me like he's drowning, desperate and consuming.
He pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to mine. “Connor . . .”
A groan rips from my throat, my hips still rocking. “I'm so fucking hard.”
He huffs a laugh under his breath. “Can tell. You’re fucking yourself stupid against my thigh.”
My head jerks back, eyes narrowing. This motherfucker. “Your dick's literally throbbing against—”
He slams his mouth back onto mine, pulling me tighter to him. I moan, bucking against him. His lips travel tomy neck, teeth and tongue grazing my skin. My arms are shaking from gripping my waistband so tightly.
“Touch me. Fuck. Ryan. Touch me.”
He goes still, then pulls away from me. His amber eyes search my face, then drop to my arms. His brows furrow.
“Didn’t want to set you off again.” I take a deep breath, then exhale, shaking my head. “You’re not ready. Forget I said it.”
“No. I want to.” His eyes meet mine. “Just want to make sure you want to. You said . . . you said it was too much. On your plate.”
Is this asshole really throwing my own words back at me?
Okay, so maybe they are true. Or were true. Fuck if I know anything right now. Only that Ryan wants to touch me, and I need him to.
“I’ll keep my hands wherever makes you comfortable. Just get yours on my dick. Now.”
A raspy breath, almost like a growl, escapes him. He shoves me backward until my thighs hit his desk.
My breath catches as he lifts me onto it. “Fuck.”
He steps between my spread thighs, grabbing my wrists and placing my hands on the edge of the desk. “They stay here.”
“Got it.”
He towers over me, one hand grips the back of my neck, not gentle, while the other slides down my chest, over my abs, thumb grazing over my erection, causing my hips to buck. “This what you want?”
“Stop talking.” I lean forward, trying to kiss him, but he pulls back, smiling. “Ryan, I will end you if you don't—”
He grabs my balls over my jeans and squeezes.
Oh, fuck.
