Page 16

He paused, his fingers brushing against my cheek, his lips curving into a little smile that made my heart stumble. His eyes searched mine, and the world shrunk to become us. There was nothing else outside this.

“Sometimes…” His thumbs traced the curve of my cheekbone. “When I look at you, I can’t breathe, love.”

“Why?”

He exhaled shakily, his hand sliding down to rest against my jaw. “Because you remind me of everything I’ve been running from. Everything I’ve told myself I don’t deserve. It’s terrifying. You’re terrifying.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are. Do you think this is easy for me, Red? It’s as scary for me as it is for you, but I know there is no use refusing this,” he said, his smile almost self-deprecating. “You make me feel things I thought I wasn’t capable of. When I look at you, it’s like the world shifts, like every plan I’ve ever had, every wall I’ve ever built, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh.”

“You undo me and you don’t even fucking try.” His voice cracked. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, every part of you, from the second I met you. I wanted you, even knowing that I could ruin you. Even knowing that you could destroy me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he silenced me with a gentle press of his thumb against my lips.

“I mean it,” he murmured, pulling my clothes off. “You make everything else disappear. I lose my mind, lose my common sense.”

“Ryden…” I watched as he quickly shed his own clothes.

“Knees to your shoulders, Red. I need you,” he said, his lips brushing down my breast. I did as he ordered. His breath was hot against my stomach when he pressed a kiss. “I’m always so fucking hungry for you.”

I chuckled, and stopped when his thumbs skimmed down my thighs before he pulled them apart.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No?” I said.

“When I’m done with you, you won’t be laughing anymore.”

“Your arrogance is almost cute. Almost,” I said.

His fingers dug into my legs as he looked up with a shake of his head.

“Cute?” he said. “When you’re begging me to stop, remember… You asked for this.”

And then he kept his promise as he continued to drink me in, savoring every nip and bite, every flick and lick.

“Oh, oh!” I moaned when he gripped my ass and propped me up, burying his tongue further inside me.

Before I could come, he twisted me around, pushing my face onto the couch.

“Remember? Autopsy,” he said under his breath.

“Do your best, Turtle Mocha, because I’m not begging.”

“Stubborn,” he grumbled. “Hold on then. I’ll make you beg.”

My laughter died when he pressed into me. His hand slid up, fisted my hair in his palm, and pulled my head back. His lips brushed along the back of my neck. His teeth sank into my shoulder, drawing blood as he started to move.

I screamed.

He moved like there was no tomorrow, each thrust deeper than the last, teasing me with each push and pull… slow and harder, hard and slower, until I felt like I would die from the pleasure and need.

Then he stilled. My pulse raced as I strained against him, desperate for release.

“Who said you could come now?” His words were both a warning and a promise. My lips parted, words stumbling out in a helpless whimper.