Chapter 44
He held me tightly in his arms that night and I vaguely remember waking up in the middle of the night, my mind groggy, my abdomen on fire, with him already sitting by my side, his arms gently hoisting me up before handing me more medicine and a cup of warm water. It was like he was in tune with every inch of my body and was intent on taking care of me the best way he could.
Like no one has ever taken care of me before.
My family loves me, I’m sure, but I’ve never had anyone put me in the front and center of their unwavering focus, like the way Ryland has.
I can cry, laugh, say anything in front of him, and it’ll be okay.
Oftentimes, I don’t even need to say anything and he seems to know what I’m thinking or what I need.
My nose crinkles and a ball forms in my throat. I gaze at the large expanse of Central Park below us, which is covered in a thick blanket of snow. The waning sunset provides a stunning backdrop to the enormous park, the warm light casting a soft glow on the snow-tipped trees.
I blow out an exhale, watching the condensation vaporizing in the air, melting with the purplish red striations in the evening skies. It’s beautiful. Mother Nature is giving us a swath of hope and color amid the dreary gray and white winter.
I’m sitting on the heated patio outside the sliding glass doors of his spacious living room, which is a statement of masculine luxury with dark wood paneled walls and the occasional pop of colors from the vases of daffodils around the apartment.
He’s taken to ensuring every room in his place has those bright yellow flowers.
He said they reminded him of me.
It’s been a week since Christmas, with today being New Year’s Day. Except for a few work calls and meetings, Ryland has never left my side. We haven’t talked about me going home or how we’ll deal with his problems in the future. This one week has been a break for both of us.
Living out the what-ifs and what could-bes like a dream.
And tomorrow, we have to return to reality, where other tomorrows aren’t certain once more.
I wish I had a cup of hot chocolate or even a bag of gummy bears. Maybe that’ll distract me from my melancholy thoughts.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” Ryland asks from behind me and I turn around.
He’s holding two large red mugs in his hands, the thick scarf I knitted him before placed over his arm. His hair is slightly disheveled in that sexy, I just rolled out of bed, way. He’s wearing a blue T-shirt that’s molded to his body like a second skin, showcasing all those muscles that have been used to pin me down in the past. My pulse kicks up a new rhythm.
I’ll never get used to the sight of him.
“It was wonderful. The chili was delicious and perfect for this weather. Please tell Gretchen thank you for me.”
“She’ll be pleased. She doesn’t cook for anyone you know. But I’ve always loved her chili…even more than some foods the chef prepares or from the restaurants on the floors below.”
A flash of red in my peripheral vision distracts me.
A little bird lands on top of the railing—a cute little thing with a white body flecked with brown on his back and startling red patches on his head and his chest. He’s warbling a light melody as he shakes his feathers.
I lean toward the bird, not wanting to spook it, but I’ve never seen anything like it before.
It cocks his head and stares at me like it’s deciding if I’m a threat. Then, with another flap of his wings, he sings another trilling melody before flying away and becoming a tiny dot against the brilliant skies.
Its presence may have been fleeting and minuscule, but it left a lasting imprint.
“That’s the acanthis flammea, otherwise known as the common redpoll,” Ryland says as I turn back around. He’s staring into the skies, a yearning in his eyes.
“Despite the name, they are rare in New York City. Perhaps it was stopping by for a bit of rest before heading back north. A sighting can be considered a jackpot in the birdwatching community.”
I bite back a giggle. “You told me you like birdwatching before, but I didn’t quite believe it until now.”
He chuckles. “It takes a certain mindset and patience to admire birds. They’re unpredictable and yet there are patterns you can rely on. Even so, you never know what you may encounter. You also need to stop and focus on your surroundings to see them because they are so small, so unassuming, they typically blend into the background.”
His head swivels toward me. “But the best things come in small packages.” His eyes hold mine for a few seconds, leaving no doubt what he’s referring to.
My face heats and my heart triples in size.
Giving me a quick wink, he traipses over and hands me one of the mugs.
I look inside.
Hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows and a hint of whip cream, just the way I like it.
Of course he’s a fast learner.
He then carefully wraps the scarf around my neck, making sure I’m warm in the cold elements.
My nose twitches, a heat spreading inside my chest, and I stare at his grinning face. His lips are tugged up in a boyish smile, and I bite back a smile of my own before taking a sip and setting the mug back on the table.
It’s perfect.
“Just the way I like it. How did you know I was craving hot chocolate right now?”
The grin slowly slips away and his gray eyes turn darker.
He murmurs, “I notice everything about you. The three freckles right underneath your right ear. Your love for jalape?os even though you can’t tolerate the spiciness. How you spend the first ten minutes in bed facing the ceiling, but you can’t fall asleep until you shift to your right side. You prefer natural essential oils over perfume, but I haven’t figured out the exact combination yet.”
He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head. “I’ve tried multiple combinations of vanilla and jasmine with other scents, but it’s still missing something.”
My heart thumps in a victory lap in my chest.
“It’s chamomile,” I whisper. “You’re missing the chamomile. I get stressed easily, and it helps me relax.”
“Chamomile,” he repeats, his voice serious, and gives me a nod, like he’s memorizing the password to his bank account.
My heart hiccups again. How can I not love him? It’s impossible.
Ryland sits down next to me on the long wicker sofa and places his mug on the table in front of us. He tucks the thick blanket tightly around my shoulders.
His brilliant gaze is intent on mine. “It’s normal to want to know everything about the person you love.”
He takes my hands in his and gently rubs the chill away from my fingers. Then he cups them to his mouth and blows a warm breath before continuing, “It’s like second nature, Millie. Wanting to know everything about you, the woman I shouldn’t be involved with yet desperately needing, like my body requires oxygen and sustenance.”
The ache inside my chest resurfaces. It hurts to hear him beat himself up. I want to shake him and yell, you deserve happiness and so do I. Why shouldn’t we be together? But I don’t because he’s not ready yet and if I press him too hard, I’m afraid he’ll end what we have.
“You have no idea how much I need you, my little lark.” Ryland’s eyes flicker up, a wet sheen appearing in those deep gray pools.
“You give me life. You give me oxygen. You’re the sunshine to my storm. You’re my freedom,” he rasps, his voice hoarse.
“Ryland,” I whisper. I shiver, but it’s not from the cold.
Climbing on top of his lap, I hold his face in my hands, my fingers trailing over the hard edges and rough planes, his five o’clock shadow longer than usual. I press my lips to his, savoring the taste of hot chocolate in his mouth.
My pulse is a heavy drum in my ears, my heart bursting with emotions as a sultry heat flows through my body, warming me up instantly.
Our kiss turns passionate. He clutches the nape of my neck, his tongue invading my mouth, taking, giving, tasting, each swipe an aphrodisiac to my veins.
Letting out a moan, I press closer, needing this man more than I need anything else in the world. His alluring scent of the woods inflames my senses. Nipping his lip, I relish in the guttural hiss from his mouth and the digging of his fingers on my back.
His erection hardens beneath me and my nipples bead in answer. I rub my body against him, every scrape of his chest against mine sending shivers to my belly, every gyration of my hips over the outline of his cock hitting my clit at a tortuous angle, dragging moans from both of our mouths.
Ryland groans and hoists me up as he stands, his hands palming my ass. He pulls back briefly and cocks his brow, our harsh breathing sounding loud in the air.
“It ended yesterday. I’m good now,” I reply, answering the unasked question in his eyes.
His nostrils flare and he seals his lips with mine again, his nips, licks, and suctions growing more desperate and wilder with each step he takes toward the bedroom.
By the time he tosses me on the bed, my pussy is wet and achy, my body seconds away from combusting.
Using one hand, Ryland tugs off his shirt in a smooth motion, his defined pecs and abs rippling with the motion.
My mouth dries.
His gaze is incinerating, a dark flame in his eyes, like he wants to devour me whole.
The pulsing between my legs intensifies. I scoot back on the bed and rise to my knees, my hands automatically taking off the large sleep shirt I have on.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his gaze traveling over my heaving tits, my belly, my hips clad in a pair of black lacy underwear.
My tongue swipes my parched lips as I keep my focus on him and slowly drag the lace down my legs before tossing it to the floor.
He swallows, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes turning fevered. Wild. The hunter in the woods. With one swift motion, he tugs off his pants, his long, thick cock bobbing against his stomach, and he climbs onto the bed.
My pulse flutters, every inch of me wanting to submit to this predator before me.
“You’re so fucking breathtaking,” he whispers, before tugging apart my legs. “Look at this pretty pink pussy, dripping wet for me.”
Ryland leans in and inhales, his breath causing tremors to flow through my body. I arch my hips toward his mouth, but he keeps me immobile with his hands.
“Ryland, please,” I beg.
Dark chuckles fill the room. “Where does my little lark need me?” He presses a kiss on my inner thigh as I writhe on top of the sheets.
“Here?” A kiss on my lower abdomen, followed by a toe-curling lick.
“Or here?” He laves a sensitive spot on the inner crease of my thigh.
I pull his hair, trying to angle his mouth where I want it most.
“Tell me what you want, Millie. I want to hear those dirty words coming from your mouth.”
Moisture gathers between my legs at the dominance in his voice.
“Ryland, I need your lips on my aching pussy. I need you to play with my clit, suck on it, taste it, make it flutter.” The words are shaky, and my mind turns hazy as his fingers dig into my thighs.
He trembles. He’s moments away from snapping.
A fire burns through me. “Then, I want you to put your fingers in my tight little pussy and ass and fuck me while you eat me out until I come all over your face.”
Ryland growls. “Fuck yes. Your wish is my command.”
The restraints fall away and he dives in and feasts.
A scream tears out of my mouth as he sucks on my clit like his life depends on it. The wet licks sound lurid in the quiet room.
“Fuck, you taste good. Sweet chamomile. All fucking mine.”
He inserts a finger inside my channel, and I clench around it, my body arching up as the sparks gather at the base of my spine at a blistering speed. Out of self-preservation, my hips try to shift on the bed, away from his onslaught, but he holds me down and ups the ante.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant, my legs twitching.
He grunts and doubles down, his tongue swirling around the hardened nub before his mouth sucks on it like a delicacy. He takes his finger out from my pussy and swipes the wetness down to my ass and rims the tight rosebud.
“Look at my slutty little lark, twisting on my bed, needing to come. Play with your nipples, baby. Tug them into hard buds for me.”
I moan, my fingers trailing to my swollen breasts and circling my hard nipples, each twist and pinch sending me closer and closer to the edge.
“God, I could eat your pussy every day. I’m fucking obsessed,” he rasps while he feasts on my clit.
Then, he inserts two fingers into my pussy and one in my forbidden hole, the sensations so sudden, so sharp, I let out a hoarse cry as my fingers clamp around my hard nipples.
His slurping grows loud, his fingers sawing inside me, curling in just the right way, building an inferno.
I feel so full, his fingers filling me up. My mouth falls open, the sparks gathering between my legs, a dark heat spreading to the rest of me. My breath freezes in my lungs and dots appear in my vision.
My mewling is loud and the sounds seem to drive him wilder.
“God, I’m so hard for you. The way you feel, the sounds from your mouth, the way you taste.”
He finger fucks me in earnest and I nearly careen off the bed.
“Yes, little lark. If only you can see what I see. Fuck. Your walls are strangling my fingers. I can’t wait until they’re clenching around my cock. Come, baby. Scream my name.”
Then his teeth clamp down on my clit.
I explode, the fireworks lighting up my entire body. “Ryland!”
Liquid gushes out of me and he licks it all up, each swipe of his tongue prolonging my orgasm.
“Fuck, that is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” he says, and he climbs above me.
My eyes blink open, my vision hazy as I take in his flushed face, wet with my essence, the male satisfaction shining in his eyes.
I reach up and kiss him, tasting myself on his lips, and he grinds his large cock on my stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum on my skin.
With a strength I didn’t know I have, I flip him around and straddle him. His eyes widen in surprise at the reversal of our positions.
I want to fuck him, to dominate him this time. I want to drive him crazy like he has done many times to me.
I want him to let go.
Wordlessly, I grab his hands and place them on my breasts, my hips lifting so his tip notches against my sensitive entrance.
My hair tumbles over my face as I stare down at him, finding his gaze heavy-lidded, a banked fire inside his eyes. He kneads my breasts, his thumb flicking my nipples.
I slide home.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans and shakes beneath me.
I answer with a whimper, his hard cock nearly spearing me in half, the sudden pain blending with the sharp pleasure in a heady cocktail.
Tossing my hair back, I arch up and move over him, gyrating my hips in a maddening rhythm.
I clutch his hands on top of my breasts, our fingers interlacing as I increase my speed, every glide of his dick hitting me deep inside, in the sensitive spot no one has ever reached except for him.
The pleasure wraps itself around my heart and burrows deep inside.
The headboard thumps rhythmically, and the bedsprings squeak as I increase my speed.
My fingers tighten against his as the walls of my pussy tremble around him once more. Wetness seeps out with each glide.
He lets out guttural moans and my eyes fly open, finding his gaze pinned on me, his mouth parted like he’s desperate for oxygen. He grips my fingers and tits to the point of pain, but I barely notice as I bounce harder and faster over him.
Ryland’s face turns red, sweat dripping down his forehead, his breathing harsh as he shakes beneath me, and I know he’s close.
“Yes, baby. Your hard cock is ramming so deep inside me,” I murmur, my voice shaky. His cock twitches and lengthens even more.
His lips move, but no sounds come out. His eyes glaze over.
“I’m addicted to you and your fucking cock. Professor. You want to come in my hot, wet pussy? Because I want your cum. All of it. I want you to stuff me full of yourself so I’ll leak whenever I walk.”
A roar tears from his mouth and his head falls back, the muscles in his neck flexing.
His beast comes undone.
He grips my hips tightly, his hips snapping up like a battering ram.
“Fuuuck,” he growls.
His cock throbs and pulses as he unleashes ropes of cum inside me, the hot liquid pushing me off the cliff. I scream and collapse on top of him, my orgasm hitting me like a ton of bricks and we ride the high together.
“I love you so fucking much, Millie.” He sounds winded moments later, and I rest my head on his chest.
I hear the reassuring thumps of his heart. The sound of safety.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I shift against him, our bodies still connected, but we make no move to disentangle ourselves.
His hands rub over my back in gentle circles.
“I love you too,” I whisper. Sleep threatens to overtake me. Forever. I could love this man forever. “Tomorrow, Ryland. We still have tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he murmurs.
Right before I drift off into a deep sleep, I hear the deep timbre of his voice again.
“I wish we had more time.”