Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sunny
We finally get back to the hotel, and I’m still buzzing with that weird, festive energy that makes me feel like I’m walking on clouds. Like maybe the world’s good for once.
Ryder’s still got that faint scowl lingering on his face, but I’m convinced it’s just his I’m too cool for Christmas persona slowly cracking.
But he’s still walking me to my room, and I can see a smile dancing on his lips.
We’re both a little out of breath from all the joy we’ve been inhaling all day. I should probably say something profound or maybe ask him if he’s ready to admit he had fun today, because I know he did.
But instead, I nudge him as we step into the hall. “You know, you’re way better at this holiday thing than you let on. I mean, who knew you were such a secret pro at ice skating?”
He shoots me a side eye. “I was not a pro.”
“Please. You only fell, like, twice. That’s practically Olympic-level performance in my book.”
I grin up at him, trying to ignore the way my heart’s doing this weird little jump thing every time he looks at me.
“Two falls,” he mutters. “Great achievement.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “Two falls, a near faceplant, and a magical recovery. You’re basically a Christmas miracle.”
I tilt my head, letting my gaze slide to his face, watching as his lips twitch as he tries hard not to smile. Progress. I’m counting this as progress.
We stop outside my room, and I’m all nerves again. I mean, we’ve had a whole day full of fun and laughter and barely controlled pandemonium, and now… well, now we’re here.
I’m almost afraid that if I say anything more, I’ll break the spell and ruin it.
“So,” I say, running a hand through my hair, because I’m apparently incapable of just stopping when it comes to talking, “this is me.”
Ryder looks down at me, those icy blue eyes of his somehow softer. They’ve finally stopped being all no-entry signs. “I know. I’m pretty sure I can find you a coffee machine on this floor. Just… in case you need one.”
I stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he’s being sarcastic or sweet. Spoiler: It’s probably both.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, glancing back at the door.
I should probably tell him to have a good night. Maybe thank him for the whole unwillingly embracing Christmas thing he’s been doing. But my brain’s all fuzzy, and for some reason, I’m not ready to say goodbye.
I hesitate for a moment, my fingers playing with the hem of my scarf. I should be all casual, say something witty and nonchalant like “Thanks for the Christmas magic, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
But no words come. It’s just… him. Standing there, eyes watching me in that quiet, intense way of his.
And before I can even register what’s happening, he takes a step closer.
It’s as if the world around us shrinks. The noise of the hotel, the holiday music drifting from downstairs, all of it falls away.
There’s just Ryder, and this space between us that feels too charged with energy to ignore.
I’m trying to breathe, trying to figure out what’s going on, but then he’s there.
His hand is on my cheek, warm, firm, and before I can say anything, before I can even think about the million things I should do, his lips crash into mine.
It’s sudden. Unexpected. And completely overwhelming. His mouth is urgent, like he’s been holding something in all night and finally can’t wait any longer.
The kiss isn’t soft or gentle. It’s fiery and raw. All the moments we’ve shared today —the fun, the laughter, the tension —are finally colliding into one breathtaking, impossible-to-undo moment.
I freeze for a second, just absorbing the heat of it, but then everything clicks. Every part of me leans into it, into him.
I kiss him back, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his jacket. The world tilts, spins, and I forget about everything… everything except this.
The cool hallway, the snow outside, the hotel. None of it matters. All that matters is Ryder, and this kiss, and the way my heart feels like it might explode from the sheer intensity of it all.
My hands slide up under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles of his back, the way he shifts and groans under my touch. He pulls away just long enough to look at me, his breath ragged, eyes dark with something fierce.
“Sunny…” he murmurs, trying to control himself, but he can’t. His lips are barely an inch from mine, his words sending a shiver straight through me.
I swipe the key card backwards, then upside down, before it finally works. The lock flashes green.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I twist my fingers into the cotton of his shirt, the warmth of his chest radiating through the fabric. The heavy hotel door swings shut with a pneumatic hiss.
His breath catches as his hands find the shoulders of my jacket, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.
The silk lining slips down my arms, pooling at my feet. The pad of his thumb traces the hollow beneath my collarbone, then pauses at the metal zipper tab.
He holds my gaze as he draws it downward, tooth by metal tooth, the sound barely audible above our breathing.
He gasps as he looks at me, his eyes darkening to the color of wet slate. The heat of his gaze traces every curve beneath my champagne-colored lace, making my skin prickle.
His breath catches. His pupils dilate until only a thin ring of gray remains. He doesn’t blink as his gaze follows the edge of champagne lace across my skin.
The air conditioning raises goosebumps along my arms, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me.
I bite my lower lip and reach behind my back.
One hook.
Two.
The tension in the fabric releases. I roll my shoulders forward slightly and the straps slip down, one after the other. The bra drops to the floor, a whisper of lace against carpet.
He eliminates the space between us in a heartbeat, his body pressing against mine. His mouth finds my nipple, drawing it in, and a moan escapes my lips.
My back arches, thighs clenching, but he doesn’t linger. He trails kisses lower, and lower still, until he’s positioned between my legs, hands spreading my thighs apart with a possessive touch.
He pinches my panties between his teeth, causing me to gasp. My legs tremor with desire as he yanks the material down while slipping to his knees.
“Ryder, please…” I whisper, desperate with need.
He exhales, hot and heavy against my center, and grins, a wicked and devastating smile.
“Oh, Sunny, I don’t know if you really want me.”
A helpless, needy sound escapes me, humiliation and arousal churning in my stomach.
“Please,” I whisper, squirming beneath him. “I need you.”
And then his mouth is on me, his tongue licking with a fierce hunger. He flicks over my clit, then slides down to tease my entrance before thrusting in. His nose presses just right, and I cry out, hips grinding into his face.
I have to cling to his hair to stop myself from falling.
His hands grip my thighs hard, holding me still as he devours me. Tongue, lips, teeth… he uses all of it, sending heat crackling down my spine with every movement.
And when I start to tremble, teetering on the edge, he doesn’t stop.
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them deep, and moans against my skin. My body unravels under his touch, and I can feel how much he’s been craving this… me.
“Ryder…” I gasp, barely a whisper.
But before I can get anything else out, my toes curl. I let loose, and I fall.
I come so hard I forget my own name, crying out as pleasure explodes behind my eyes, pulsing through my limbs, and making my whole body shudder. He doesn’t stop until I’m gasping, limp, twitching from overstimulation, and completely wrung out.
Then, just as I’m about to tumble, he scoops me up and carries me to the bed, laying me on the sheets. Ryder pauses for a moment as his fingers trace the curve of my jaw, his eyes locked on mine.
He kisses me again, filthy and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue. And I moan into his mouth, because I’ve never felt more wanted. More taken. More his.
“I need more,” I murmur. “It’s time for you to be naked, too.”
With a smirk, he leans back and tugs his shirt over his head. Most of all, I love the mischievous glint in his eyes. That’s what really gets me going.
This isn’t a side of Ryder that the world gets to see, and I love that it’s just for me.
His belt clinks as it joins the shirt, and his pants slide down, pooling at his feet. And he’s big. I almost forgot how big it is. Hard. Thick and flushed, and already dripping at the tip. My mouth waters.
“You’re staring,” he says, dark as honey and smoke.
“I know, but you just look so good…”
He strokes himself once, slow and rough, his eyes never leaving mine. “So do you.”
Then he reaches into the pocket of his coat on the floor and pulls out a small foil packet. His gaze flicks to mine as he tears it open with his teeth, the sound intense and filthy, utterly in control.
He slides back atop me, braced on trembling forearms, the heat of his chest searing mine. Every inch of him presses downward, lean muscles taut beneath the fabric of his shirt, the line of his jaw set in hungry determination.
His mouth lowers, lips grazing mine in a kiss that tastes of smoky cologne and something sweeter, desire laced with fierce devotion. I feel the hard length of him against my inner thigh, slick with my own warmth, and I shift, angling my hips until I can feel his tip graze that spot I ache for.
He holds back, just out of reach. His teeth nip at my bottom lip, gentle and knowing. When he pulls away, his dark eyes study me, pupils dilated.
“Do you want me to go slow… or the way I’ve been craving you all night long?”
My pulse hammers in my ears. My wrists lie free on the cool sheets, but I don’t move them. I don’t want to break this spell.
“I want you,” I whisper huskily. “Exactly how you want me.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. His only restraint.
“Be sure, Sunny,” he warns.
I curl my legs around his hips, drawing him closer.
“Ryder,” I murmur. “Ruin me.”
His breath hisses through clenched teeth, and for a heartbeat, the world spins. Then he pushes in with one fierce thrust, deep and all-consuming.
I gasp, back arching in an involuntary bow. My hands scrabble at the rumpled sheets as he drives home to the hilt.
“Fuck, Ryder, that feels so fucking good.”
That’s all he needs. He pulls back slowly, then slams forward. Hard, relentless. Each thrust jerks the breath from my lungs; every slam against my velvet walls presses new, filthy sounds from my throat.
He pivots my hips higher, angling himself so he hits that sweet, trembling spot. My head falls back, lips parted in a silent plea as pleasure floods me.
The headboard thuds against the wall in time with his rhythm. Our bodies slide and slither in the tangled sheets, sweat-slicked skin rubbing.
I’m on fire, trembling with need that’s at once too much and not enough.
“Touch yourself,” he pants roughly. “Let me see you lose it again.”
I reach up, slick fingers seeking the swollen peak of my clit, drawing tight, circular strokes as he plunges into me. He pauses, watching, eyes dark with possessiveness.
“Good girl,” he groans. “Just like that. Show me how you fall apart.”
I don’t last long. A sharp, glorious fracture of pleasure rips through me, hips bucking, breath catching in stuttered gasps as I bottom out in that delirious moment. My legs clamp around him, arching my back off the mattress, and he shatters, too.
“Fuck, Sunny…” he hisses, thrusts, stammering in triumph. With one final, seismic push, he spills into me, growling my name against my throat.
As we do our best to catch our breath, I cling to him, wondering when I’ll be forced to let him go.