"Sue me." He kisses me again before I can respond, and coherent thought dissolves into sensation.
His shirt finally comes off. I've seen him shirtless before—the charity car wash photos were not subtle—but this is different. This is my hands on his skin, feeling the muscles shift as he lifts me like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist, and the friction pulls a groan from somewhere deep in my chest.
"Bedroom," I say again, more desperate this time.
"Yeah." He's already moving, carrying me down the hall with an ease that shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Yeah, okay."
We make it through the doorway, barely. He lowers me onto the bed, and I pull him down with me, unwilling to lose contact even for a second. His weight settles over me—solid, warm, real—and something in my chest cracks open.
This is real. Actually happening.
"Hey." Aiden's voice softens, his hand brushing hair from my face. "You okay?"
"Yes." I pull him down for another kiss, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. "More than okay."
He takes his time after that. His mouth traces a path down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot where my pulse hammers. When his lips close around my nipple, my back arches off the bed.
"You're so responsive," he murmurs against my skin. "I love that."
His hand slides lower, fingertips tracing the edge of my underwear. "Can I?"
"Yes." The word comes out breathless. "God, yes."
The fabric disappears. His fingers find me slick and ready, and the first touch pulls a gasp from my throat. He watches my face as he works me with slow, deliberate strokes—learning what makes me moan, what makes my hips lift seeking more, what makes my fingers twist in the sheets.
"Aiden, please?—"
"Not yet." His thumb circles, pressure building. "I want to feel you come apart first."
He adds a second finger, curling just right, and the sensation threatens to overwhelm me. His mouth returns to my breast while his hand maintains thatmaddening rhythm, and the combination is too much and not enough all at once.
"Look at me," he says, and I force my eyes open to meet his. "That's it. Let me see you."
The orgasm hits hard and sudden, pleasure rolling through me in waves that make my whole body shake. He works me through it, drawing out every last tremor before finally easing off.
I'm still catching my breath when he strips off his remaining clothes. I let myself look—really look—at the broad chest, the defined abs, the hard length of him. My hand reaches out, wraps around him, and the groan he makes is deeply satisfying.
"Riley, if you keep doing that?—"
"Then maybe you should do something about it." I stroke him slowly, watching his control fracture. "I seem to remember you mentioning a condom."
"Right." He fumbles for the nightstand drawer, nearly drops the foil packet, and I bite back a smile at how his hands shake. The careful, controlled Aiden is gone. This version is raw need, and I did that to him.
He rolls on the condom and settles between my thighs, the blunt head of him pressing against me. "You sure?"
"I'm sure." I pull him down for a kiss. "I need you. Now."
He pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust to the stretch. It's been a while, and the burn edges toward discomfort before giving way to fullness. When he's seated completely, we both pause—breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
"Okay?" His voice is strained.
"Move," I manage. "Please move."
He pulls back and thrusts in, and the angle is perfect. Hits something inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. He does it again, and again, finding a rhythm that has me clutching at his shoulders.
"You feel incredible," he groans. "So perfect. Like you were made for me."
His hand slides between us, thumb finding my sensitive nub, and the dual sensation sends me spiraling. Every thrust drives me higher, pressure building at the base of my spine.
