Chapter 24
FAYE
The first brush of his lips is careful, like he’s asking a question I’ve been dying to answer. A whisper of touch. But my entire body tilts toward it anyway.
I pull back to look at him, to check this is real. His eyes are still closed, lashes dark against his skin.
When he blinks, the blue of his irises burns even more toward violet; it churns, smoky, focused, alive.
“Okay?” he murmurs, thumb ghosting over my cheekbone.
“More than okay.”
That’s all it takes. His mouth claims mine again, deeper this time, and my brain stops keeping up.
His hand wraps around my waist, anchoring me to his side.
But it’s not enough. I want more. I shift, lips never leaving his, until he scoots backward on the dock and I’m able to straddle his lap.
My arms find his shoulders, my fingers his hair.
I tug. The soft pull earns me a guttural growl that shoots heat through me.
Ryder repays me in kind, using my ponytail to angle my head backward and gain better access to my neck.
He bites me before driving me insane with open-mouthed kisses.
He works his way up my jaw, back to my mouth.
Ryder pulls my lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it.
When I moan, he swallows the sound, chases it with his tongue, and I open for him without restraint.
He tastes of spearmint and secrets I was always meant to learn.
The kiss turns hungry, fire with no logic, every place we touch feeding the next spark. His hand is steady on my lower back. My thighs hook over his. The air feels too thin to breathe.
I’ve kissed before. But never like this.
Never like falling and landing at the same time.
Kissing Ryder is like learning a new language from the inside out, all sensation and reflex and no translation required.
His lips are soft, but the grip of his hand on my ponytail is anything but gentle.
It’s a battle, and it’s a ceasefire. It’s too much and not enough.
I lean into him harder, chasing the pull, the pulse that won’t settle.
The shift throws our balance. We topple, half-laughing, half-kissing, landing with a thud against the wood with me sprawled ungraciously over him.
For a heartbeat, we stare at each other, both stunned and grinning.
Then his hands find my hips, firm and unhurried, and the grin fades.
He shifts, muscles tightening beneath me, and before I process the change, the world tilts again as Ryder flips me over and gets on top of me.
His weight pins me to the dock, his knee braced between my legs and his elbows caging my head.
The hard planks press into my back, the night air prickles my skin, but every neuron I have is occupied by the heat of his kiss.
He’s not careful anymore—his lips crash into mine, hungry and sure, as if he’s been holding back for years, not weeks, and now refuses to wait another second.
His stubble roughens up my jaw, a scrape that sends a thrill all the way to my toes.
I hook my ankle behind his knee, holding him where I want him, as he gives up pretenses and devours me.
I arch up to meet him, needing every inch of contact.
My hair is coming loose from the ponytail, the dock creaks beneath us, the lake laps at the beams, but we’re the center of the universe and nothing else matters.
I lose track of time. I lose track of everything except the way his body fits over mine, how his hands move from my waist to my ribcage to my cheek, repeating the pattern, always so desperate, eager, and careful.
My lungs burn for air, but he’s my oxygen.
When we break apart, we’re both breathless.
He looks so undone, I only want to kiss him again.
We push up, sitting without separating, ending up face to face, knees bent, thighs overlapping, legs entangled.
“That was…” I start, but words feel too clumsy.
“Yeah,” he says.
“We can definitely check the heat box.”
He laughs, forehead dropping against mine. “Did you think that’d be a problem?”
“No, gosh, no.” I chuckle. “I’d hoped you’d be a great kisser. Just… this is…”
He raises an eyebrow. “That good?”
I lean back and give him a once-over. “Yeah, cowboy, that good.”
Heat flashes in his eyes. His expression goes a little feral. It’s the same look I’ve tried not to obsess over since he almost kissed me at the state park.
“Right,” he rasps, voice wrecked.
I pass a hand through his hair and enjoy the small shiver that wrecks his body. “What are you thinking about now?”
“Chapter seventeen of book two,” he says without hesitation. “The lake scene.”
“Oh my gosh.” I bury my face in the crook of his shoulders. “You really have been reading the books.”
“Cover to cover. I’m thorough.”
“Of course you are.” I peek at him. “What did you think?”
He lifts my chin with a gentle finger, entirely serious. “Ashren was an idiot for waiting so long to tell Sarina how he felt.”
“He had his reasons.”
“Bad ones.”
“Says the man who ignored me for two weeks.”
He winces, then grins, tugging me closer. “I thought you wanted the space until the school year was over.”
“A text wouldn’t have killed you.”
I pout, but he smooths it with the pad of his thumb. “Noted. No more distance.” His fingers trail from my mouth to my throat. “I want you, Faye. In whatever way you’ll let me have you. However slow we need to go.”
I might burst into confetti. Pinpricks of heat zigzag through my stomach. I lean forward and kiss him again, gently this time. A promise, not a question.
“I want you too,” I whisper.
We make out until a breeze kicks up from the lake. When I shiver in his arms, Ryder is on his feet in an instant, offering his hand. The night has gone cold, and I don’t protest when he walks me to my cottage.
We stop on the porch.
“When can I see you again?” he asks.
“You have to go?” My voice comes out breathy. “I mean, if you have to be home for Rhys, I understand—”
He tilts his head. “Not until morning.”
I bite my lower lip. His gaze tracks the gesture. “Would you like to come in?”
Both of his hands go to cradle my face. “I’m fucking dying to, Faye. But that’s not taking it slow.”
He leans in and kisses me again—soft, lingering, a denial that tastes like an invitation.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I say against his lips.
I feel his smile on my mouth. “Tell me, how I can be alone in a house with you and not do all the things I’ve been dreaming about doing to you?”
“Well, I don’t have condoms for starters. So, we can’t—you know…”
He laughs now. “Oh, sweetheart.” Ryder nuzzles my neck. “You think sex is at the top of my list?” He kisses and bites and licks the skin of my neck until I forget what I was saying. “You have no idea.”
“I—I’m catching up.” I whimper.
Ryder takes a step back. “How about dinner on Sunday night? I know a place in Osage Beach that’s quiet and with great food. Few people from Blue Crescent Harbor go there.”
I smile like an idiot. “Are you asking me on a date?”
Ryder smirks back. “Are you saying yes?”
I nod.
He gives me a final peck on the mouth and walks backward for a few steps, eyes still on me. I’m leaning against the doorframe, hair wild, lips swollen, not positive I don’t have a hickey on my neck.
“Sunday,” he says again.
Ryder strolls out of my garden—he must’ve parked down the street—but at the last minute, he turns to look at me over his shoulder.
I wave, and he blows me a kiss before disappearing behind the trees. When I step inside and lock the door, my hands are shaking. My lips tingle with the memory of his kisses. And my skin feels branded wherever he touched me.
Sunday can’t come fast enough.
But for Ryder—I can wait. Two days, a year, however long it takes.
I change into pajamas, knowing it’ll be impossible to sleep. I could blow off steam with a game, but screen time before bed would jack me up even more. Instead, I grab the paperback we’re reading this week for book club.
My phone pings with a text message before I open the novel.
Ryder (Rhys’s father)
Made it home. You have no idea how hard it was to walk away from that porch. Next time I decide to be a responsible adult, please bash me on the head. Sweet dreams, trouble
Faye
I’ll keep a frying pan by the door. Sweet dreams, cowboy
I hit send and change his contact to just Ryder.