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“I’m close.”

“I know, mamacita. Let me feel everything you gave your hand while you wished it belonged to me.”

His thumb presses harder.

The orgasm tears through me.

My body locks around Ryan while his name leaves me in a broken scream. I hold his gaze through the first devastating pulse, then lose it when pleasure forces my head back.

Ryan catches my jaw.

“Mírame.”

I find his eyes again.

“That’s it.” His voice fractures while he watches me come around him. “Let me see you.”

Every pulse drags him closer. His thrusts become rough and uneven while my body continues clenching around him.

“Come with me,” I whisper.

His face tightens. “Charm.”

“I want to watch you too.”

I cup the back of his neck and keep his forehead against mine. “Let me see what the phone made me imagine.”

Ryan drives inside me once more and breaks.

The sound he makes enters my mouth before his lips do. His arms lock around me as his body shakes between my thighs, every pulse held inside the place where we finally have nothing separating us.

I wrap myself around him.

For several seconds, the only movement comes from our breathing and the aftershocks passing between our bodies. Ryan’s weight settles against me while the kitchen returns in pieces.

Mail covers the floor.

One glove hangs from a cabinet handle.

His coat lies halfway into the living room, and something ceramic may have died beneath the island.

I don’t care.

Ryan lifts his head.

His eyes are wet.

The sight destroys me more completely than anything we just did.

I touch his face. “Hi.”

A laugh breaks out of him, rough and disbelieving. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

His mouth presses against my palm. “You’re late.”

“By seven months?”