He tucks me against his chest and carries me toward the bedroom. My arms tighten around his neck. I bury my face in his shoulder, my heart racing as anticipation builds.
He lays me on the bed, dark, hungry eyes sweeping over me. “What are you doing to me?” he whispers, falling forward.
He braces on his elbows, dipping his head to kiss me, slower this time but no less intense.
The touch of his warm hands tracing every curve, every dip, every inch of bare skin he can find ignites my mind. My night dress gets rumpled higher and higher until it’s over my head, tossed onto the floor.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down my neck to my collarbone. “So fucking mine.”
My fingers slide under his shirt, desperate to feel him and even out the playing field. I tug the fabric, satisfied when he pulls back long enough to strip it off. The hard panes of his chest and the tattoos that mark his skin come into view. I let my hands roam, tracing the ink, the ridges of muscles, and the fire burning inside me is fueled further when he shivers under my touch.
“Bianca,” he groans, clawing my panties until he rips them off. He swipes two fingers across my pussy then pushes them inside. “You’re drenched.”
My spine arches off the bed, my hard nipples brushing his chest. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He works his fingers deeper, faster, our breaths mingling, tongues fighting for an upper hand. I gasp not even three minutes later, coming with a staccato of delirious moans. Ryder hisses as I draw long lines down his back but doesn’t stop pumping his fingers, the high lasting forever.
32
Ryder
Once we got back to Cleveland late on Sunday, I ditched the inflatable monstrosity in favor of sharing Bianca’s double bed, all the while ignoring Arthur’s smirks.
And his red face whenever I fetch a glass of water in the middle of the night after making her moan and gasp.
He spends his shifts in the living room now it’s unoccupied, eyes on the security feed. After the first night, he learned to slap on a pair of headphones when the telltale sounds of our sex life start coming through the paper-thin walls.
I should refrain from fucking my girl when he’s around...
Yeah, right. As if I can keep my hands to myself.
Somehow, Bianca’s slipped into my routine, filling cracks I didn’t realize were there. For years I’ve been consumed by work, every task Carter gave me an instant priority. I never thought about the future. Never imagined sharing my life with a woman.
Well, when Carter and Broadway fell head over heels, I started wondering if my time would come. If, among the crowdsof women I entertained whenever the mood struck me, I’d find someone I’d want to keep.
I think I knew early on that Bianca would burrow deep under my skin, that she’d become important, but I refused to acknowledge my feelings, keeping them trapped. Now, the floodgates are open, and Ifeel. So much. So fucking fast.
I’m falling for her at the speed of light, harder and deeper the more of herself she reveals. Every morning and evening, we talk. Not the surface-level stuff. We got that out of the way while I watched over her inBloomfor hours on end.
Now we delve into deeper things. Bianca’s floodgates are wide open. She tells me about her shitty childhood, the lack of affection, the lack of love. She tells me about her passion for flowers, her fear of commitment, and the trust issues her ex-boyfriends gave her.
I’d like to find each one and snap their toxic fucking necks.
She explained why she considered my interest in her nothing more than a bet with Koby. It’s because she lost her virginity in high school, to the most popular guy at school. She thought he was in love with her while in reality he fucked her to win a bet.
She told me about her college boyfriend and the evening she caught him cheating on her with her best friend.
She told me about her last day with her adopted parents.
Her life’s been a mess thus far. A looped rollercoaster of disappointments, neglect, and rejection.
The more I learn, the harder I try to show her that I’ll never hurt her. That I’ll always take care of her. That she’s my priority.
Every night, we’re tangled together, taking as much as we can from each other. Sex with her is an experience, that’s for sure. Heated and desperate most of the time, like we’re afraid the world will take it away. But sometimes, when I wake up hard in the middle of the night, it’s slower, more intimate, a language only the two of us understand.
She stopped acting like she’s waiting for me to push her away, which is the biggest win of all... but there’s still a thread of unease winding tighter around me every day.
Vaughn’s out there. So is Grey. I feel the weight of them hovering in the distance and my time with Bianca feels like a countdown. I’m fucking terrified of what happens when the timer hits zero.
