“Good.” His lips twitched as he rocked deeper into her, and he stifled a little groan. “Because you feel incredible.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, hell, yeah.” With that he covered her mouth with his, pulling backward with his hips while surging forward with his tongue, and it felt like a complete circuit. Like she was possessed by this man, and she never wanted to be anywhere else.
With gentle strokes, he pressed into her. She fell into his rhythm like she’d fallen into everything else with him. Each thrust ground him hard against her clit, building that warmth again in her abdomen. She held on tight, clutched him closer and tilted her hips, seeking that pleasure.
“That’s right, baby,” he murmured. It was less a kiss now and more simply breathing the same air. Being locked up tight inside this tiny bit of space where he was hers and she was his. “Take everything you need.”
She closed her eyes and dug her nails into his back, straining, focusing until—
It was just a warmth at first, a soft curl of a promise in the base of her abdomen, but she grabbed on to it. Held on to Rylan and pressed her face to his throat as she whined. Each roll of his hips made the feeling grow. She gripped him harder, moving him against herself, against that hot brightness and pleasure just above where he was filling her. Bucking her hips up into him until it was all searing heat—light and darkness and a rush of nothingness, taking her under and down, and she was afraid she’d shake apart.
But he was there. Holding her together and crushing her close, murmuring in her ear.
It was all she needed to let go.
Her climax crashed down on her in a crescendo of feeling and need. Her voice and her body all shattered as she breathed his name over and over again, and God. To do this with someone who meant so much, to feel the hot breadth of him as he buried himself inside of her.
Only once the fog began to fade did he rear back. She looked up at him, and he was staring right at her, eyes open and cheeks flushed. He took another half dozen long, hard strokes in and out of her, and then he was arching. His mouth dropped open, and the groan that fell from his lungs shook her. His whole body trembled, and her heart twisted.
He was so beautiful in his pleasure. Felt so right inside her body and in her arms.
How was she ever supposed to let him go?
Rylan collapsed over top of Kate, scarcely remembering to catch himself and not force her to take all of his weight. For a minute, all he could do was lie there, breathing into the pillow. Fuck. He was still inside her, still twitching, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut tighter.
Because he’d had sex before. He’d had a lot of sex before, but not like that.
And wasn’t that just Kate, though? She put him in these situations he thought he knew inside and out, and she made them different. More.
He shuddered and lifted himself up. He didn’t need to be thinking things like that. As he got his elbows underneath himself, she stroked a hand up and down his spine, pulling a shiver from someplace deep inside of him. Her face was flushed and glassy, and her legs were folded gently around his hips. A warm rush of tenderness lit the center of his chest. He leaned in closer, stroking his nose against hers and then kissing her mouth, nice and soft. The way a girl should be kissed after letting a guy get that close to her.
She tasted so sweet, and the curl of her thighs around his waist had another round of aftershocks racing through him. He could have stayed like that the whole night.
With a groan and a last little sucking nip at her bottom lip, he pulled himself away. “Back in a sec.”
He made his way to the bathroom, feeling less than steady and trying to keep that to himself. Dealing with the condom was the work of a moment, but he dawdled anyway, washing his hands a lot more thoroughly than he usually did, just for something to do while he got himself put together.
Turning off the tap, he dragged one damp hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. As he did, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror.
Instead of shaking his head and moving on the way he usually did, he straightened his spine and forced himself to really take it all in. Not the sex hair or any of that, but not the shit he usually noticed, either—the too-deep cleft of his chin or the slant to his nose, or the bits that reminded him a little too much of his dad. It wasn’t easy, staring at himself that way. No matter what he did, he couldn’t conjure up the things Kate had drawn and seen. Was it really any use?
He dropped his gaze and grabbed a towel, drying his hands off as he walked back into the main part of the room. He furrowed his brow when he caught faint strains of music.
And then he stopped, everything in him just kind of going quiet at once.
Kate was sitting on their bed, facing the headboard, a loose sheet tucked under her arms and wrapped around her chest and hips. The crisp white of the cotton against her pale skin made it look all peaches and cream, and he swallowed hard. She was fiddling with a panel on the wall. He’d noticed it before but hadn’t really paid it any mind.
The sounds on the air resolved themselves in his mind.
“Édith Piaf?”
She twisted, looking at him over her shoulder, and she was so beautiful he could hardly breathe. The soft curve of her smile cracked his heart. “It’s a radio. All it plays is this really random old stuff.”
And she looked so charmed.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She beckoned him over. “Come here and listen.”
His feet didn’t seem to want to move. For a second, he could only stand there, staring at her.
If he could draw, he’d paint her in ivory and pink and umber, looking exactly the way she did in that instant. Preserve her forever, to look at when he was old. Just like this.
But he couldn’t.
“Rylan?”
“Sorry.” He tossed the towel he’d been using in the vague direction of the bathroom door. Unglued his feet and walked himself over to the bed.
He sat behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her hair. Vanilla and rose, and layered in with it, the sharpness of his aftershave. The faintest notes of sweat and sex. His throat felt tight, and his heart was pounding too hard.
She put her hand over his. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He breathed her in, memorizing her scent. Their scent, all tangled together. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Lifting his head, he pressed a kiss to her temple. It was probably too intense, probably lingered too long. When he could, he nodded. “Absolutely. I’m just . . . happy.”
She laughed, a soft, ringing sound. “Good. Me, too.”
His heart felt like it was pressing against his ribs, but what could he do? He bit the inside of his cheek and cast his gaze skyward, then gestured at the radio, drawing attention from the way he’d been completely, utterly disarmed. “Does it play anything else?”
She paged through the handful of stations, each stranger than the last. The whole time, he held her, watching her and listening and trading comments about the selection of songs.
And it was another thing he’d heard of in the past—one he’d thought he’d done before. But really. He’d never known what basking in the afterglow meant.
Not until now.
chapter NINETEEN
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“What?” Rylan shot her a cheeky smile. “You’ve never had room service before?”
She tossed her napkin at him. “Not what I meant.”
Honestly, she wasn’t sure she ever had had room service. It was always so expensive. But Rylan had insisted, and at the time, her legs hadn’t felt up to working. Even now, an hour after he’d turned her to jelly, her whole body was still thrumming, a warm glow of satisfaction radiating from the very center of her.