Page 442 of Face Off
His fingers move between my thighs and slide through the wetness his mouth left behind.
I shudder against him. “Yes.”
“What else?”
“You fucking me against the counter.”
His mouth presses against the side of my neck. “No glass dress to break.”
“I’ll buy another one.”
He laughs, but the sound becomes a groan when I reach behind us and close my hand around his cock through the open front of his jeans.
Ryan’s forehead drops against my shoulder.
He is hot, hard, and heavier in my palm than memory ever managed to preserve. I pull him free and stroke once.
His hips drive into my hand.
“Tell me you haven’t been with anyone since the castle,” I say.
His eyes lift to mine in the reflection. “Nobody.”
“Neither have I.”
His hand stills between my thighs.
“There was never anyone after you,” I tell him.
Ryan turns me around so quickly that my hips strike the counter. His hands frame my face, and the kiss he gives me holds every emotion we have refused to discuss since he entered.
Love.
Relief.
Possession.
The terror of having this again and knowing exactly what losing it did to us.
His forehead presses against mine. “Still on birth control?”
“Yes.”
His thumb moves across my lower lip. “Tell me what you want.”
“No condom.”
His breathing deepens.
“I want to feel you,” I continue. “I want every inch the phone couldn’t give me. I want you inside me with nothing between us, Ryan.”
He kisses me once, hard enough to bruise, then lifts me onto the counter again.
I barely manage to brace my hands behind me before Ryan spreads my thighs and positions himself between them. The head of his cock presses against me.
Both of us freeze.
Seven months of remembering, writing, wanting, and waiting narrow into one point of contact.
