Page 440
Ryan grips my waist and lifts me onto the counter.
Mail, keys, and a ceramic bowl scatter beneath his forearm. Something hits the floor, but neither of us looks. He steps between my thighs and pulls me to the edge until the hard length of him presses directly against the ache beneath my jeans.
“Feel what seven months without you did to me.”
He rocks against me.
The pressure drags a moan from my throat.
“I heard it in your voice every Sunday.”
“No.” He catches the back of my neck and holds my eyes. “You heard what I let you hear. Feel it now.”
His hips press harder.
There is no phone line or safe distance between what I do to him and the evidence grinding against me. His breath strikes my mouth. His fingers tighten around my skin. Every rough sound leaves his chest and enters mine without technology carrying it.
I reach between us and open his jeans.
Ryan’s hand closes around my wrist. “Impatient.”
“I have been patient for seven months.”
“You came in less than ten minutes the night I called.”
“You told me where to put my fingers.”
“And you obeyed.”
“I imagined they were yours.”
His control fractures.
Ryan releases my wrist and attacks my jeans. The button opens beneath his fingers, the zipper follows, and he drags me from the counter long enough to force the denim and my underwear down my legs.
I kick them away.
His gaze lowers.
The hunger that crosses his face is nothing like anything memory allowed me to preserve. Photographs captured his attention without carrying the violence of it. Standing naked from the waist down in his kitchen, I feel it move across every place he wants.
Ryan drops to his knees.
“Holy fuck.”
His hands close around my thighs before his mouth presses against the softness beneath my stomach, the curve of one hip, and the skin beside the place already aching for him.
“Ryan, please.”
“I spent that entire fucking call listening to you finger your pussy for me.” He kisses the inside of my thigh. “Give me one minute with what the phone wouldn’t let me taste.”
His mouth finds me.
Pleasure rips through my body so hard that my palms slap against the counter. Ryan grips my thighs and lifts one over his shoulder while his tongue moves through every place he directed my fingers to touch.
The first stroke leaves me shaking.
The second steals my ability to speak.
