Page 155 of Face Off

His forehead touched mine. “Fuck, I’m gonna come so fucking hard.” He growls and grinds into me.

The position was too close for something meaningless. Every breath moved between us. Every thrust pressed his clothed chest against mine while the shirt prevented me from reaching the tattoo hidden beneath it.

“Charm.” My name broke from him roughly.

I caught his face in both hands before I remembered he hadn’t offered me tenderness.

Ryan didn’t pull away.

He turned his mouth into my palm and kissed it once, the gesture so instinctive it hurt worse than mi hada.

Then his face tightened.

He pulled out abruptly and stripped the condom away before taking himself in his hand.

“I want to come on you.”

The crude possession in his voice should not have felt tender.

It did.

I pulled my shirt over my head and pushed up my bra, baring myself to him without hesitation. Ryan stood over my breasts, my stomach, and the curves he had admired without restraint since seeing me downstairs.

I didn’t cover myself.

I didn’t ask whether he liked the changes.

I already knew.

Ryan moved above me, his hand working faster. I reached for him, but he caught my wrist and pressed it beside my head.

“Let me look at you.”

I held still beneath his gaze.

His release landed hot across my breasts as his body shuddered above mine. My name left him again—not the endearment, not a declaration, but something rough enough to expose how little distance remained inside the act.

Ryan stayed over me until his breathing steadied before I leaned up and licked the remaining seed off the tip of his cock.

He released my wrist and stepped back.

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. The tenderness of the gesture hurt more than if he had left me to clean myself. Ryan sat beside me and wiped my skin without speaking, his movements careful despite every claim that careful no longer belonged between us.

I watched his face.

“Don’t,” he said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking loud enough to damage the walls.”

I almost smiled. “I’m following your clues.”

His hand stopped against my stomach. “This isn’t a clue.”

“No?”

“It’s a basic decency. My mother raised a gentleman.”