Chapter 10
The moment we were inside the packhouse, Ryder swept me up into his arms like I weighed nothing. I let out a surprised laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me toward the stairs.?
“Ryder, people are going to see—”
“I don’t care,” he said, his voice rough with need. His eyes met mine, and the intensity in them made my breath catch. “Let them see. You’re mine, Em. You’ve always been mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice should have annoyed me. It should have made me want to argue. But instead, it sent a thrill through my entire body.
He carried me up two flights of stairs without even breaking a sweat, and I found myself pressing kisses to his jaw, his neck, anywhere I could reach. He groaned, his grip on me tightening.
“You’re killing me, baby,” he muttered, fumbling with a door at the end of the hallway.
When he finally got it open, I caught a glimpse of his apartment—and it was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the forest, and the space was open and modern, all dark wood and leather furniture. It screamed Alpha, power and wealth.
But I didn’t have much time to admire it.
The minute the door closed behind us, Ryder slid me down his body, letting me feel every hard inch of him. And then his mouth was on mine again, kissing me like he’d die if he stopped.
I kissed him back just as desperately, my hands fisting in his shirt. I needed him closer. Needed more.
His hands moved to the zipper at the back of my dress, and he pulled back just enough to look at me. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Tell me now, Em, because once I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to.”
I shook my head, my heart pounding. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Something fierce and possessive flashed in his eyes, and then he was pulling the zipper down, his knuckles brushing against my spine. I shivered at the contact, at the heat of his touch.
The dress fell away, pooling at my feet, and I stood there in just my bra and panties. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way Ryder was looking at me—like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—made me feel powerful.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes roaming over me. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”
His hands moved to my bra, and he unhooked it with practiced ease, letting it fall to the floor. Then his thumbs hooked into my panties, and he slowly—so slowly—pulled them down my legs.
I stepped out of them, completely naked now, and watched as Ryder’s eyes darkened with desire.
“Your turn,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smirked, that cocky, confident smirk that had always driven me crazy, and reached for the buttons of his shirt. But his hands were shaking slightly, and I realized he was just as affected as I was.
I stepped forward and pushed his hands away, taking over. I unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing inch after inch of tanned, muscled skin. When I pushed it off his shoulders, I let my hands trail over his chest, his abs, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath my fingertips.
He sucked in a breath, his hands clenching at his sides like he was trying to control himself.
I moved to his belt next, unbuckling it and then working on the button and zipper of his pants. When I pushed them down along with his boxers, I couldn’t help but stare.
He was...impressive. Long and thick and hard, and I felt a flutter of nervousness mixed with anticipation.
“You like what you see?” he asked, his voice teasing but rough around the edges.
I looked up at him, at the heat in his eyes, and nodded. “Oh yeah.”
He smirked again, and then he was lifting me up, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He carried me through the apartment to his bedroom, and I barely registered the massive bed before he was laying me down on it, the sheets cool against my heated skin.
Ryder stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, just looking at me, and I felt my cheeks flush under his gaze.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he said quietly. “Having you in my bed. Making you mine.”
“Then stop talking and do it,” I said, trying to sound confident even though my heart was racing.
He grinned, and then he was on the bed, crawling over me. But instead of kissing my mouth, he started at my neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to my skin. He moved lower, to my collarbone, then to the swell of my breasts.
When his mouth closed over my nipple, I gasped, my back arching off the bed. He sucked and licked, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and I felt heat pooling between my legs.
He gave the same attention to my other breast, and then he was moving lower, kissing down my stomach, my hips, my thighs. Every touch sent sparks of pleasure through me, and I found myself trembling with need.
“Ryder,” I breathed, my hands tangling in his hair.
“I know, baby,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
He settled between my legs, and I felt his breath against my most intimate place. I tensed, suddenly nervous, but then his tongue was on me, and all thoughts fled my mind.
He licked and sucked, his tongue exploring every fold, every sensitive spot. When he found my clit, I cried out, my hips bucking against his mouth. He held me down with one hand on my stomach, keeping me in place as he worked me with his tongue.
Then I felt his finger at my entrance, slowly pushing inside. I was tight—so tight—and the stretch was almost uncomfortable at first. But he moved slowly, carefully, letting me adjust.
“That’s it,” he murmured against me. “Relax for me, Em.”
He added a second finger, and the stretch was more intense, but the discomfort was quickly replaced by pleasure as he curled his fingers inside me, hitting a spot that made me see stars.
His mouth returned to my clit, sucking and licking in rhythm with his fingers, and I felt the tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter.
“Ryder,” I gasped, my hands fisting in the sheets. “I’m—I’m going to—”
“Cum for me, baby,” he said, his voice muffled against me. “Let go.”
And I did. The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, pleasure radiating through every nerve ending. I cried out his name, my body shaking with the intensity of it.
Ryder worked me through it, his fingers and tongue gentling as I came down from the high. When he finally pulled away, I was boneless, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.
He crawled back up my body, and I could see my arousal glistening on his lips. He kissed me, and I could taste myself on his tongue, which should have been embarrassing but was somehow incredibly hot.
“Em,” he said, pulling back slightly. His expression was serious now, almost hesitant. “I have to ask you something.”
I looked up at him, still dazed from the orgasm. “What?”
“You’re really tight,” he said carefully. “Are you... are you a virgin?”
I felt my cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I looked away. But I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Hey,” he said softly, cupping my face and turning it back toward him. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I thought you would have known,” I said, trying to deflect. “Since you’ve been stalking me and all.”
His cheeks turned red, and he had the grace to look sheepish. “I tried my hardest to prevent it, but I never knew what you actually did on your dates. Just how long you were with someone.”
The admission should have made me angry. It should have reminded me of all the ways he’d interfered in my life. But right now, with him looking at me like I was precious and everything, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“I don’t want to talk or think about anyone else right now,” I said, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss.
He kissed me back, deep and thorough, and I felt him settle between my legs, his hardness pressing against my entrance. He pulled back, his eyes searching mine.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice rough. “We can wait if you’re not—”
“I’m ready,” I said, and I meant it. I’d been waiting for this—for him—for so long.
He reached between us, positioning himself, and then I felt the blunt head of him pressing against me. He pushed forward slowly, so slowly, and I felt the stretch, the burn as my body tried to accommodate him.
I tensed, and he stopped immediately.
“Breathe, baby,” he said, his forehead resting against mine. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
I took a deep breath, trying to relax, and he pushed forward again. The pain was sharper this time, a stinging sensation that made me gasp. But he kept going, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside me.
We both froze, breathing hard. I felt impossibly full, stretched in a way that was almost too much. But as I adjusted, as my body relaxed around him, the pain began to fade, replaced by a deep, aching pleasure.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice strained.
I nodded, experimentally rolling my hips. The sensation made us both groan.
“Okay,” I breathed. “You can move.”
He started slowly, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through me, and I found myself meeting his movements, my hips rising to take him deeper.
“Faster,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, Ryder, faster.”
He groaned, his control snapping, and then he was moving faster, harder, his hips snapping against mine. The sound of our bodies coming together filled the room, along with our gasps and moans.
I held onto his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. The pleasure was building again, that coiling tension in my core, and I knew I was close.
“I love you,” Ryder said, his voice breaking. “I love you, Em. I always have and I always will.”
His words were my undoing. The orgasm hit me like a freight train, pleasure exploding through every cell in my body. I screamed his name, my body clenching around him, and I felt him follow me over the edge, his own release pulsing inside me as he groaned my name.
He collapsed on top of me, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
After a moment, he rolled off me, but immediately pulled me close, tucking me against his side. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his hand stroking up and down my back. “I love you, Emily,” he murmured.
I snuggled closer, feeling safe and cherished and completely content. “I love you too, Ryder.”
We lay there in comfortable silence, our breathing evening out, and I felt my eyes growing heavy. The events of the day—the ceremony, the conversation on the patio, and now this—had left me exhausted in the best possible way.
As I drifted off to sleep in Ryder’s arms, I realized something: I was home. Not in the town I’d grown up in, not in the house where I’d spent my childhood.
Here. With him.