“Was, umm… how was…” I asked as I watched Ryder march over me, intent gleaming in his eyes.
He rescued me from having to complete the sentence by pulling me in for a kiss, fingers curled around my neck and shoulder. I smiled as I realized he was standing on his toes to reach and put a hand on his hip, bending down so he wouldn’t sprain an ankle, relief washing over me.
Kissing was good. Way better than talking.
“Could get used to coming home to you standing around in sweatpants,” Ryder murmured against my lips, sliding the hand on my shoulder down my bare chest and straight into the waistband. His thumb toyed with the top of my underwear as his lips brushed against me again, an almost-kiss that made me want to surge forward and take more, but also made me want to savor it for as long as he’d let me.
“Thought about you the whole time,” Ryder said, already breathless. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you in that café and my fucking knees almost quit on me.”
Some part of me wondered if Ryder was okay, but most of the blood I used to think had already left my brain in favor of more fun places further south.
“So do you wanna go upstairs, or…?”
Ryder shook his head. “Too far,” he murmured, pulling me in again for another kiss, biting at my lip this time. “Here’s great.”
I chuckled as he pulled me down again, gasping as nimble fingers sneaked their way into my sweatpants and grabbed a handful of my butt to pull our hips together, dizzy at the thought that this really wasn’t a one-time thing. Ryder wanted to do this again.
Then he bit down on my lower lip and the next thing I knew his legs were wrapped around my waist and I had him pinned to the wall, grinding against him as I held him up and he laughed like this was the best thing that’d ever happened to him.
“So hot,” he murmured, thighs squeezing my waist like steel bands.
I hummed into his mouth, brain too focused on how good Ryder felt against me to think of words. All that mattered right now was the heat of his body trapped between me and the wall, the way his fingers dug deep into me, hanging on like he never wanted us to be apart again, the way he tasted, the way hesmelled, the clean cotton of my shirt mingling with his aftershave.
Ryder’s head fell back against the wall as I shifted my hold on him to get a hand free, still holding him up as I fumbled with his zipper. I couldn’t resist nipping at his throat—just hard enough to leave a red mark on his pale skin, not quite hard enough to bruise as I got my hand into his jeans and moaned at finding him rock hard and leaking already.
“Sure you don’t wanna go upstairs?” I asked, which felt like a miracle. All those words at once, and they even made sense.
“Later.” Ryder gasped, bucking into my hand, grabbing a handful of my hair to pull me into a filthy, needy kiss.
Something was definitely going on, but it could wait. This was what he needed right now, and I wasn’t in a position to think with what felt like half of my blood volume throbbing in my cock.
Somehow, I got my hand around both of us and we shared an obscene groan into each other’s mouths. I couldn’t get enough of feeling Ryder hard against me, knowing that was forme, that I was causing it, that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
I smiled as Ryder whimpered into my mouth, jerking against me, legs tightening to pull me closer. All thoughts but how good he felt and smelled and tasted left my head, my whole world narrowed down to the places we were touching and the sounds he was making, soft and needy and so perfect.
He bit down on my lower lip as he came, dragging me over the edge with him as he shoved both hands in my hair and tightened his fingers, hard enough to hurt.
Blood rushed in my ears as I ground against him, working us both through it until Ryder hissed and I let go.
My legs held out just long enough to carry both of us over to the couch before collapsing once I was close enough to fall on it, Ryder on top of me, flopping like a ragdoll cat as soon as we were horizontal.
It was hard to tell time while I was staring up at the ceiling waiting to recover enough to say something, but it felt like we fell silent for a solid handful of minutes, panting for breath and clinging to each other.
Eventually, Ryder hauled himself up to look me in the eyes, reaching out to run the pad of his thumb over my lower lip.
“I bit you,” he said, a line forming between his brows as he frowned.
“I’ll live.” I smiled up at him.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Ryder said.
“I know.” I grabbed his hand, kissing his knuckles and squeezing the fingers. “You didn’t. Is this where you tell me what’s wrong?”
Ryder sighed, and then chuckled, and then gave me a look that was one part affection, one part worry.
I wanted to wipe the worry away, but I couldn’t do that if he didn’t tell me where it was coming from.
“Something happen at breakfast?” I asked.
