Chapter 5 - Paige
I’ve been distracted, overwhelmed, dealing with Maya’s teasing about Ryder’s crush all week.
He’s been forward in a shockingly cocky yet charming way that lingers in the air before he arrives and after he’s gone.
He’s watched me like he’d rather devour me than the pie, like he’d rather taste me instead of any and every sweet I could offer him.
He’s all but asked me on a full date, but in all that time, he’s never touched me like this, never been this close.
Nothing between us, no Maya watching from the corner of her eyes after giving us ‘space’, no customers or anyone else to distract us.
Maya left to go home to Oliver early, talking about all the romantic things they were going to do and telling me I should do the same with Ryder, that I should chase what I feel and stop overthinking it.
Now that he’s touching me, panting, inspecting my hand like I’ve nearly cut it off instead of getting a soft burn, every bit of the desire, curiosity, and tenderness I feel towards him is practically screaming in my body.
It demands some kind of release. Even my brain can’t say no.
His consistency, the way he ignores the other woman who throw themselves at him .
.. it’s only me in his eyes and he’s the only man that’s been in my head, my heart, or my dreams.
“Ryder,” I whimper when he leans forward and presses the softest kiss against my reddened skin. It’s so gentle it almost feels like he’s pulling the pain right out of me, leaving only a throbbing heat that pools low in my belly. “I… I’m okay. Really. Thank you for being so sweet, but… I’m okay.”
His eyes catch mine and deepen, soften, threaten to suck me in and never let go. I don’t even know if I’m still breathing. I’ve never seen him so soft, so warm, yet intense at the same time.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, voice low and rough, the sound curling through me like smoke and heat.
A shiver tears through my body. My breath comes shallow, chest rising too fast, and I step closer to him, pulled in like there’s no choice left. “Then show me.”
Three words. That’s all it takes. All the long looks, the charged silences, the careful space between us—it all snaps like a live wire.
His mouth crashes down on mine, nothing soft about it now.
It’s wild and hungry, like he’s been holding himself back for far too long and can’t anymore.
His arm hooks tight around my waist, dragging me against him until my body molds to every hard line of his.
The kiss isn’t just a kiss—it’s a claim, a confession, a breaking point.
The shock hits me like a punch, stealing my breath. I never imagined it would feel this intense, this overwhelming.
His hands are everywhere at once, but not careless—needy, reverent, starving.
He palms over my hair, down my shoulders, my sides, his thumbs pressing into the soft curve of my hips like he’s trying to memorize me through touch alone.
Each pass of his hands is rougher, more desperate, stripping away the last thread of restraint he’s been clinging to.
He mutters something against my mouth, low and wrecked, the words almost lost in the heat between us.
When our tongues meet, everything inside me melts and drops low, a pulse of pure need. I can feel how badly he wants me in every breath, every touch.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, setting me on the counter with a thud. His hands grip my thighs, pulling me flush against him, and the kiss deepens into something primal. I break away just enough to see his face—his eyes are darker, his jaw tight, like holding back another second might ruin him.
He tugs at the waist tie of my apron, yanking it loose and sliding it over my head in one fluid motion. His gaze rakes down my body, hungry and unrestrained, and when he groans, it’s guttural, like it’s being torn straight from his chest.
“You and these sundresses. I want to make it summer forever for you, sunshine,” he says as he looks me over.
I blush and start to cover up, but he catches my wrists gently and kisses them both. “I said you were the best view in Aspenbrook and I meant it. Those eyes, your smile, your body, the way you shine ... beyond compare. Please don’t deny me the view.”
Trembling, he pulls me closer to him and kisses me hungrily, deeply all while his hands worship every curve I have. First over my thighs, pushing my dress up so he can tug me to the edge of the counter and wrap my legs around his waist, then along my side, grabbing my ass and groaning openly.
“So fucking plush, soft, perfect,” he praises.
I whimper. “You’re so ...”
He takes off his shirt and guides my hands to his chest. “Touch me. Enjoy me. Show what you can’t say, Paige.”
I don’t have to ask if he really wants me; he’s proving it.
He’s eyeing my dress like it’s an insult compared to what he could be looking at.
He tugs me tighter against him while I trace the contours of muscle he’s built from dedication and time.
He’s magic. Touching him is better than touching myself thinking about him.
He groans and kisses along my collarbone, his fingers tracing the sides of my breasts.
I can’t take it anymore. Not with every slow, deliberate touch that feels like he’s burning me alive. Not with the way his restraint hums under his skin, coiled tight as he waits for me to give him more.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he rasps, his breath hot against my mouth. “How many nights I’ve thought about you. Fantasized about you. I called you mine—and I meant it.”
The words knock the air right out of me.
When I look at him, he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make me gasp before soothing the sting with his tongue.
It fries my brain, sends sparks racing across my skin until I hate the fabric of my dress almost as much as he does.
He groans low in his throat when I shift beneath him, then tugs at my dress like it’s the only thing standing in his way.
It pools around my waist, then hits the floor, followed by my bra.
He cups my breasts like he’s starved for the feel of them, burying his face between them with a growl that vibrates through my chest. His tongue flicks against my skin, hot and wet, trailing kisses that feel like they could set me on fire.
“I’ll show you every single thought I’ve ever had about you,” he murmurs against my skin, voice dark and hungry. “Every fantasy. Every reason you should stay right here and let me make you mine.”
“St-stop holding back,” I whimper, watching the tension ripple through him as he wars with himself.
His chuckle is low and dangerous, sending a shiver through me. He drags his tongue slowly up my throat, making me arch into him. “This is more than an eight-second ride, Paige,” he growls against my ear. “I’m going to make every second feel like forever.”
“I know,” I whisper, breath shaky as I hook my thumbs into my underwear and start pushing them down.
His gaze drops like a predator’s, dark and burning, and whatever thread of restraint he had left snaps.
A low, rough sound slips from his chest as he steps in close, crowding the space between my knees.
His hands replace mine, dragging the fabric the rest of the way down, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing the inside of my thighs until the underwear slips off completely.
The sound he makes when he looks at me—half groan, half growl—sends heat straight to my core.
He doesn’t bother with words. His hands grip my hips and he yanks me to the edge of the counter, making me gasp. My legs fall open around him, and he leans over me, mouth finding my skin like it’s something he’s been starved for.
His lips drag up my stomach, over my ribs, until his mouth closes around my nipple.
The first hot flick of his tongue knocks the air out of me.
He sucks, slow and deliberate, his stubble scraping just enough to make me shiver.
When he groans against me, it vibrates through my chest and down between my legs.
“Ryder,” I whimper, the sound cracking.
He trails kisses downward again, slower this time, like he’s tasting every inch of me and refusing to rush.
His breath fans over my belly, making me tremble.
“Nothing in this shop, in this town, in this fucking world is better than you, Paige,” he growls, his voice rough against my skin.
“I’ve dreamed about this. But dreams don’t come close. ”
“I…” The words won’t form. There’s no room for insecurity when he’s touching me like this—like he’s worshipping and claiming at the same time.
He drops lower, his mouth finding the inside of my thigh, kissing, biting, sucking until heat blooms where his mouth has been. “So fucking sexy,” he mutters, voice thick with hunger. “I want your legs around my head. I want to taste you. I want the whole damn town to hear you scream my name.”
My eyes roll back the second his tongue glides over my slit, slow and devastating. A gasp rips out of me before I can stop it. My fingers dive into his hair, gripping tight as my other hand braces against the counter to keep me from floating away.
He growls—a deep, wrecked sound that vibrates against me—before burying his face between my legs like he’s never going to come up for air. His hands slide under my thighs, pulling my knees over his shoulders, palming and squeezing my ass as he feasts on me.
And Ryder feasts. There’s no other word for it.
He eats me like he’s starving, tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that make every nerve light up.
The long, indulgent passes over my clit melt into rough, hungry flicks, a rhythm that builds and breaks me at once.
He drinks in every moan, every twitch, following the shape of my pleasure like it belongs to him.