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Faster and more urgent, each time he plunges into me, I’m filled to the hilt. My inner walls are quivering, my belly and core aching, heading full speed to the edge. Rylan’s hips jerk up to meet mine, the rhythm irregular—I can tell he’s getting as close as I am.
I reach down to press at the little bundle of nerves at my core while Rylan watches, his eyes nearly black with desire.
Then he tilts my hips, the new angle hitting even deeper, and thrusts up one more time. My womb convulses, pulses of electricity and heat rippling through my body. It’s so intense I stop breathing for a second, my pulse rushes in my ears, and all I can feel is the rightness of Rylan inside of me.
He thrusts again, then flips me over and drapes my legs over his shoulders. Another plunge, our bodies colliding together, and he cries out, emptying himself into me.
Rolling again, I’m draped across him, aftershocks still tingling, Rylan rubbing my back in long, gentle strokes. “I know we should get up,” he says softly, “but I don’t want to.”
“Neither do I.” His chest is my pillow—he’s still wearing his shirt—and I giggle at it. “I think you need to change your shirt. It’s all wrinkled now.”
His fingers twine through my hair. “I think you may need to change some things, too.”
Lifting my head off his chest, I give him a mischievous smile. “More lacy things?”
Sitting up, Rylan kisses my crown before setting me aside. “No, you little minx. Something plain and not so tempting. Or we’ll never get downstairs to see your friend.”
“Fine.” I fake pout at him. “But later, I’m showing you the rest of my new stuff.”
As I speed off to the bathroom to fix myself—I’m sure my hair doesn’t look presentable anymore—Rylan calls to me, “I can’t wait.”
Somehow, I manage to get ready in under five minutes. It must be Rylan rubbing off on me. Hair brushed, new non-lacy things on underneath a new sundress, I meet Rylan by the door and we rush downstairs.
As we hurry to the reception area to wait for Erin and Conor, Rylan casts a quick glance at my dress. His eyes crinkle and he says, “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”
Well. To be honest, not really. I’ve never been with anyone who is so appreciative of how I look, and Rylan makes no secret of how attracted he is to me. So, anything I can do to encourage him—sexy lingerie, these sundresses, sleeping naked—I’m taking advantage.
There’s no time to discuss my dress choice any further because Erin and Conor are already in reception, waiting for us. They’re chatting with Cole, who they both know from when he worked in Texas. Erin sees us and shoots me a big grin. “Charlie!”
I rush forward, hugging her hard. “I’m so glad you came.”
A wave of emotion sweeps over me. If Erin had never texted me saying she believed me, told me about Blade and Arrow, I wouldn’t have any of this wonderful new life I found.
“Thank you,” I tell her fiercely, still hugging her. “For sending me here. For believing in me.”
“Always,” she reassures me. “And I’m so glad you found your happy ending here.”
Conor comes over to give me a gentle hug. “How are you feeling, Charlie? Your wrist feeling better?”
“It’s nearly back to normal,” I tell him, holding up my newly un-casted arm.
“I’m glad to hear that.” He exchanges a glance with Rylan, who gives him a small nod.
Since Erin and Conor are staying for the long holiday weekend, we convinced them to stay at Blade and Arrow instead of paying to stay at a hotel. So we drop their luggage off in the guest apartment and head out to the patio to enjoy the last of the summer.
The warm weather is still hanging on, but there’s a hint of fall on the horizon. Even though I’ll be sad to see summer gone, there’s so much here to look forward to.
Thanksgiving with Rylan and his dad, who we’ve already invited here for a big B and A turkey dinner. My first Christmas with my fiancé, decorating a tree and celebrating the holiday the way I always wanted to. And New Year’s Eve—the big party we’re going to have, fireworks included, and kissing the man I love at midnight.
I can’t wait.
We all settle on the outdoor couches, Conor and Rylan each grabbing a beer while Erin and I opt for hard seltzers. I nestle into Rylan’s side and Erin drapes her legs across Conor’s lap. The guys start chatting about baseball, good-naturedly ribbing each other about their favorite teams.
“You’re both wrong,” I tell them. “The Yankees are the best team.”
Rylan raises an eyebrow at me, his lips twitching. “Then why did we go to a Red Sox game last week?”
“That was for you.” I lean over and kiss his cheek, whispering, “I was still secretly rooting against them.”
