Chapter 7 #2
“Ryan—I, I...” She pulls back, breathless, then kisses me again as if she can’t help herself.
“Ember,” I breathe against her lips, letting her feel how much I’m into her. “Do you want this?”
Her answer is to unbutton my shirt, her hands trembling slightly—and a small sign of nerves, of her being as affected as I am, undoes me completely.
I pull her shirt over her head, revealing black lace that makes my mouth go dry. But it’s not the lingerie stopping my heart—it’s the way she’s looking at me. Open. Trusting. Wanting me as much as I want her.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, meaning it in ways that have nothing to do with what she’s wearing.
I ease her jeans down, pressing kisses to her stomach, her hips, and when I drop to my knees in front of her, I look up to find her watching me with those hazel eyes that make me want to be better, braver, more than I thought I could be.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I murmur.
Her fingers slide into my hair. “Don’t you dare stop.”
I press my mouth to her through the lace, tasting her, and her sharp inhale becomes a moan I feel in my bones. This—her responsiveness, the way she trembles under my touch, the small sounds she makes—it’s everything.
I take my time, memorize every reaction, but the need to have her closer, in my bed, skin to skin, overwhelms every rational thought.
Standing I lift her into my arms. “I need you in my bed.”
Her eyes widen with surprise and she chuckles while wrapping her arms around my neck. I carry her upstairs, my heart pounding with something that feels dangerously close to devotion.
In my bedroom—the space I’ve never shared with anyone—I lay her on my bed, and the sight of her there, hair fanned around her, she looks like a goddess. She’s looking at me like I’m someone worth wanting, and it nearly breaks me.
I crawl over her, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s deeper, slower. Taking my time now. Showing her without words what I’m too afraid to say: You matter. This matters. You’ve changed everything.
My hands explore her skin, memorizing the curve of her waist, the way she arches into my touch. I free her breasts from the lace, and when I take her pert, rosy nipple into my mouth, she gasps my name.
“Say it again,” I rasp, needing to hear it.
“Ryan—”
I kiss my way down her body, removing the last barrier between us. The scent of her—vanilla and citrus and something uniquely Ember—makes me dizzy with want.
I settle between her thighs, my hands gripping the curve of her hips, and when I taste her properly, the moan she makes is the most perfect sound I’ve ever heard.
I work her with my tongue, my fingers, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her hips lift off the bed. I slide two fingers inside her and curl them to her sensitive spot. She cries out in the most delicious way.
“Say my name again,” I demand, needing her to anchor to me.
“Ry—an.”
I feel her tightening around my fingers, her body tensing, and I watch her come apart with an awe that borders on reverence.
As she relaxes into the mattress, I rise, stripping off my briefs. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, and the naked want in her gaze makes me feel powerful.
“I want to be inside you,” I say, my voice raw with need and something deeper. “Tell me you want it too.”
“Yes, Ryan. I want you.” Her simple words feel like a vow.
I reach for the condom, but she takes it from my hands, setting it on the bed. Her hand holds the base of my cock, as she licks and strokes me. The sight of her, the feel of her mouth, it’s heaven but I won’t last if she continues and I desperately want inside her.
“Ember, this feels amazing, but I won’t last if you keep going—and I want…”
She pulls back and smiles. “I couldn’t resist tasting you.
” She grabs the foiled condom, rips it open before wrapping her fingers around me and rolls it on with a confidence that nearly undoes me.
The intimacy of it—her touching me, taking care of this small thing—feels more vulnerable than being naked.
“Ember—” I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.
She pulls me down to her, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I slide into her slowly, inch by inch, watching her face full of desire and need.
The physical sensation is overwhelming, but her expression guts me—the way her lips part, her eyes flutter closed, the small sound she makes, like she’s feeling what I am; we fit fully together, this is different and incredible. This matters.
I move, finding a rhythm that feels like it was written into our DNA. Every thrust, every gasp, every touch—it’s a conversation we don’t have words for yet.
I reach between us, finding her clit, needing her to fall apart with me. “Come with me, Firecracker.”
She shatters, and the feeling of her walls tightening around me, the way she calls my name, sends me over the edge. My release crashes through me with an intensity that feels more than physical—something fundamental has shifted in my chest.
I collapse beside her, pulling her close, her head on my chest as we both struggle to catch our breath.
This is what I didn’t know I was missing. This. This feeling of rightness, of completion, of home.
“Damn, that was some dessert, Ryan,” she murmurs, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Are you ready for seconds already?”
“Maybe.” She laughs softly, then her voice goes quieter. “I can’t stay up too late. I’m driving to Atlanta tomorrow morning to meet with my lawyer.”
My chest tightens. Right. Atlanta. Her real life. The one that doesn’t include me or Peachwood Grove or whatever this thing between us is becoming.
“Just for the day?” I manage to keep my voice steady.
She shifts to look at me, her hand resting over my heart. “That’s the plan. Only for the day.”
She kisses me gently, and I hold her closer, memorizing the weight of her in my arms, the way she fits against me as if she was made for this spot.
My heart is swelling with emotions I’m not ready to name—emotions that feel too big, too fast, too dangerous for someone who’s only here temporarily.
But as she settles back against my chest, her breathing evening out toward sleep, one truth becomes crystal clear; Ember Harper has claimed a piece of my soul tonight.
And when she leaves—because she will leave—I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.