He exhales hard, biting my lower lip. “Katherine…”
My full name on his tongue feels obscene. I smile against his mouth. “Say that again.”
His lips twitch. “Katherine, my Katherine,” then he kisses me harder, like punishment and surrender all at once.
My back leaves the fence as he turns, guiding me backwards. He lets go of me for a moment, grabs a thick saddle blanket, spreads it on the grass before gently pulling me down onto it.
Cold air kisses my bare skin as my shirt rides up, but Ryder covers me immediately, his body shielding mine, his hands bracketing my thighs as he lowers himself between them. His forehead rests against my stomach for a moment, breath harsh, like he’s fighting for control. Then his mouth finds skin.
I gasp, fingers flying into his hair. “Ryder—“
He doesn’t answer, just keeps going. His kiss drags slowly over my ribs, the curve of my waist—reverent in a way that makes my throat burn. My legs shift open without thought, welcoming him. His hands grip my hips, holding me still. His mouth lifts, eyes locking onto mine in a silent question, seeking permission.
I nod, and that’s all it takes. His hand slips between us, sliding under the edge of my jeans, fingers brushing heat that has been building for far too long. I arch sharply, breath breaking. He watches every reaction like he’s memorizing the way I fall apart.
“So responsive,” he murmurs, voice rough with something close to awe.
My cheeks burn. “Don’t talk like you’re not doing this to me.”
That almost-smile flickers, then his fingers press deeper, finding my clit, and the sound that leaves me is helpless.
Ryder groans low, like my pleasure physically wounds him. He leans down, kissing me again. His hand moves with intent, drawing me closer and closer until my whole body is shaking beneath him.
“Ryder,” I whisper, desperate now. “Please.”
His jaw flexes in understanding. He shifts, tugging at my jeans, pushing them down just enough, then his own—urgency breaking through restraint. The cold air is nothing compared to the heat between us.
He hovers for a breath, lined up, forehead resting against mine.
“This is…” he starts, then stops.
Too much, too real.
I cradle his face, forcing him to look at me. “I know. I’m here and so are you. We’ll figure it out, together.”
His eyes darken, then he thrusts forward, filling me in one slow, devastating motion. I gasp, spine arching off the blanket, hands clutching tightly onto his shoulders. Ryder stills, buried deep, breathing hard through his nose.
“So damn tight,” he murmurs, voice wrecked.
I bite my lip, trembling. “You’re big.”
“I know,” he roughly exhales.
“Smug bastard,” I mock, and that earns me a bite to the neck.
I cry out just as he starts moving—slow at first, controlled like he’s afraid of losing himself, like he’s afraid of losing me—but the rhythm builds. His hips drive into mine with purpose, each stroke pressing deeper, claiming space, claiming what he’s been denying since LA. My body meets him instinctively, rising fast, unstoppable.
The fence creaks softly, the wind howls somewhere beyond us, and Iron Stallion stretches out endlessly, uncaring. While Ryder—Ryder is everything. His mouth finds my throat again as he thrusts harder, breath breaking against my skin.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. “God,” I gasp. “Ryder…”
His name sounds like prayer and surrender all at once. His movements falter, a groan tearing from him as I clench around him, pleasure cresting too fast.
He grips my face, forcing my eyes to his. “Look at me,” he demands, voice raw.
I do, and the moment my release hits, it’s violent—shaking through me like thunder, my mouth opening on a sound I can’t control.
Ryder follows with a harsh groan, burying his face against my neck as his body locks, heat spilling into me, his arms crushing me close like he can’t bear the distance even for a second.
