Chapter 14 Ryan
RYAN
She’s warm and soft and everything.
The number of times I’ve imagined Sierra in my arms over the last twelve months is beyond comprehension.
My hands slip under her top to find her waist.
I want this so damn much. The feel of her, the taste, the sound.
My mouth slants across hers. She moans under me, and it lights me the fuck up.
The entire weekend has been a rehearsal for this moment. Adrenaline and desire pound in my veins. It’s better than a playoff game.
The stakes have never been higher.
Her hands slide up my chest. She’s confident, assured. Not trying to seduce or playing a part but genuinely wanting, and I swear I’ve never been touched like this.
I never want to be touched in any way that’s not like this.
I start to scoop her up into my arms, but my head hits the roof. “Fuck,” I curse, dropping both of us to the floor.
She’s laughing at me. “You’re a masochist.”
“I’m not. If I bleed one more time…”
“Tonight’s over?” she supplies.
I roll onto my back and look up at her, grinning from either the concussion or her.
Yeah, I’m not calling that bluff.
“Let’s try that again.” Her fingers thread through mine, and she tugs me toward the bed.
Hallelujah.
Her robe falls wide, exposing her thin sleep shirt.
“No shorts?” I say.
“You tell me.”
She’s so beautiful, her chest rising and falling with her breath, her hair loose around her shoulders.
Fuck, I’m so hard for this girl. If I had enough brain cells left to be embarrassed, I would be.
The twinkling lights dance across her face, which is bright with desire as she reaches for me. Her fingers trail across my pecs, down my abs.
“You’re really hot.” She says it as though it’s wildly inconvenient. “You probably get that a lot.”
“I can’t remember,” I say honestly. Because somehow, all that matters right now is this. Here. With her.
I bend toward her, my lips claiming hers for countless minutes. Her skin is warm and smells like heaven. I need more. Need to taste all of her.
“Only had one problem with the time we hooked up,” I murmur against her mouth.
“What’s that?”
“It was over too fast.”
My lips trail down her throat, her collarbone. I want to find where she’s sensitive. I need any advantage I can get.
I’m going to make her lose herself—to prove she was wrong to not text me for an entire year and act like this was nothing between us.
Fuck it, I’m going to make her a fan of Christmas too.
“Mmm. And how do you plan to fix that?” she teases.
I could tell her I’ve pictured it. That I fuck my hand and think of her. That I remember how her eyes looked, the scent of her skin, exactly what she as wearing, that little tattoo on her wrist and how badly I wanted to bite it.
She arches, encouraging me closer.
I’m only too happy to comply.
“So much I wanted to do,” I murmur. “Again. Better. Slower.”
My mouth lowers farther. Every inch makes her writhe.
I drag her sleep shirt up her chest. Her skin is soft and smooth, and there’s a tail of a dragon tattooed down her ribcage. I trace it with my tongue.
I push the shirt up farther, revealing the curves of her full breasts. I cup one in my hand, my lips skimming the underside until I find a spot that makes her shiver. I play with her nipples, already hard despite the warmth of the loft.
Her soft moans are the best sound. My abs clench, my thighs. Every inch of me is ready to fuck her, but I’m holding back.
She shrugs out of the robe, and I get a look at what’s underneath.
The thong is black lace and hugs her curvy hips and ass.
It teases me, makes me question my idea to take this so. Fucking. Slow.
I wrap my fingers in the panel, twisting, then yank down. They rip.
“Ryan!”
“Oops.”
“These were expensive!”
“Then it’s a good thing I signed a new contract this year.” I could buy her a thousand pairs exactly like them.
She’s so gorgeous like this, her skin flushed, her breasts hard, and the curve of her stomach leading down to the curve between her thighs. I shift over her.
My fingers brush the inside of her thigh. She shudders, her legs pressing together. I hold them apart and trace a finger up her slit.
She’s wet, slick as though her body is already anticipating this. It’s satisfying and torturous.
“Yes,” she moans.
My thumb strokes across her clit, and she arches her hips. Her hand grabs for mine, and I think she’s going to push me away, but she just holds me there.
“Is that how you like it?” I rub small, slow circles. Then I change things up. “Or like that?” I sink a finger inside her, pressing deep into her warmth.
God damn, she feels unreal. Her body grips me tightly, and my dick spasms hard—even before Sierra cries out a long, low moan.
She claps a hand over her mouth.
“Oops,” she says, echoing me earlier.
I still inside her, laughter rocking my shoulders. “You want everyone to know how satisfied you are, I don’t mind. Not one bit. Everyone deserves to have a great Christmas.”
I withdraw my finger, then press it back in, watching her eyes change color as I do.
“Ryan…” She exhales hard, aroused and impatient. Her hands fist in the duvet.
“Yeah?”
“Can we get on with this?” She wrestles with her lip, her hands reaching for my pants.
“You’re not used to taking it slow,” I realize.
The expression on her face is enough admission.
I glance back over my shoulder at the window. It’s pitch black. I’d guess midnight, give or take.
We have hours.
“I want you to touch me. I want to feel you come on my cock more than anything I’ve ever wanted. But first, I’m going to make you come so hard you’re crying for it.”