When he turned back, his gaze locked on mine like I was the only thing in the room. "Well," he said quietly, "now that we're done being careful—"
I kissed him.
Hard.
The sound he made against my mouth went straight through me, heating my skin and sending new sensations straight to mycore. His hands came up and gripped my waist, pulling me tight against him like his restraint was finally cracking.
I could totally relate.
I fisted my hands in his damp shirt, dragging him closer even though there was nowhere closer to go.
He backed me up until the bed hit the backs of my knees. The mattress dipped as he followed, bracing himself over me, close enough that our lips were nearly touching.
For a second, we froze there – him hovering, me anticipating.
And then he smiled. "I just want it on record that you started this."
"Me?" I laughed. "You're the one who broke down the door."
"And you're the one who dragged me upstairs."
"Dragged you?" I sputtered. "You didn't exactly resist."
"Yeah, and you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because Ididn'twant to." And then he kissed me, slow and deep, while I melted against him. When his mouth left mine, I chased it, breathless and needy. He murmured softly against my jaw, then trailed kisses down my throat, unhurried and maddening.
My fingers dug into his shoulders as I arched, silently begging him not to stop. My breath hitched. "Ryder?"
"Yeah?"
"I missed you."
He pulled back with a devastating smile. "Good."
"What? No. That's not good. It's terrible."
"Yeah, tell me about it." And then he lowered his head and kissed me again, as if to prove that I wasn't the only one who'd been wanting.
The bed creaked as we shifted – our legs tangling and bodies pressing closer. His thigh slid between mine, and I gave a little gasp as the friction sent heat spiraling low in my stomach.
His mouth pulled back from mine just long enough to say, "Youdoknow you're killing me."
I smiled. "Good."
With a breathless laugh, he kissed me again, deeper and harder, until my hips started moving. After that, everything blurred into the sensation of heat, hands, and lips as we both ran out of patience.
Frantically, I went for his shirt, my fingers slipping on the damp fabric as I tugged it free, breaking the kiss only long enough to drag it over his head and fling it somewhere off to the side.
Soon, there were no more clothes – no lacy bra, no black briefs, no little black panties, because they were all scattered somewhere on the floor.
Maybe I should've felt self-conscious. My bed was unmade, the sheets were tangled, and here I was, right in the middle of it, naked with Ryder Vaughn – a guy whose name I'd known long before I'd ever met him.
Between us, the urgency shifted again, not fading, just focusing. His weight settled between my thighs, solid and warm. And this time, he didn't rush it. Instead, his hands skimmed down my sides, smooth and unhurried, like he was learning my curves instead of chasing the moment.
His mouth followed, slow and sweet, kissing along my jaw, my throat, and then lower. Each kiss felt achingly deliberate, like he was mapping my body to see what I liked.
