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The deeper, the better.
Under different circumstances, he’d roll, pin her beneath him, and take control of what was happening.
He should stop her. Should remind her she was on the rebound. Should remind himself she was on the rebound.
“We should stop. Your emotions are high from the wedding. You’ll regret this in the morning,” he warned.
“You’re wrong,” she corrected, shifting her bottom over him. “This has nothing to do with the wedding and everything to do with you. I want this. I want you.”
“McKenzie,” he groaned. He wanted to do the right thing. For her. For him. He should stop her.
Then again, maybe this was what the entire weekend had been building up to. What had been building since they’d met.
Whatever the case, Ryder didn’t stop her.
Couldn’t stop her.
Instead, he used every ounce of willpower to let McKenzie lead, for her to dictate what happened every step of the way, no matter where that took them.
Whatever happened between them would be of her doing, her choice.
He’d wanted her from the beginning. Had only been fooling himself that he was over his fascination with her during the time he’d been avoiding her. He hadn’t been over a thing.
Which was why he’d not been able to walk away when she’d needed him to go with her. No way would he have let her spend the weekend with a hired escort.
Perhaps he was no better, but he’d never intentionally hurt her. Had always tried to do the opposite, hence his staying away from her when she’d been with her ex for fear he’d act on his feelings for her, that he’d seduce her into something she didn’t want.
He’d been seduced from the moment he’d met her and had instantly wanted her.
Now, she was above him, her hot center pressed over where he ached as she kissed him into oblivious pleasure.
He was oblivious. To all reason. To logic. To common sense. To everything except McKenzie.
When she moved against him, Ryder couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer and skimmed them over her back, tracing her spine, cupping her sweet bottom gliding against him.
“Touch me,” she moaned. “Please, Ryder, touch me. I need you to.”
He planned to touch. Every last inch of her.
Excitement filled him as he slid his hands beneath her T-shirt and pulled the material over her head, revealing her bare chest beneath.
Her bare chest that had him arching upward to wrap his mouth around a pink tip.
Her thighs clenched at his waist as he gave a gentle suck, then he moved to the matching peak.
She leaned forward, supporting her upper half by placing a hand to each side of his head, giving him easy access to the treasures he’d uncovered.
He suckled, teased, licked and nipped until, moaning, she arched, then sat up enough to support her weight on her knees to each side of his hips. Her hands tugged on his T-shirt. Ryder raised his upper half from the floor, making removal of his shirt easier.
“You have a beautiful body,” she praised, running her hands over his shoulders, then down his chest to mere inches away from where her lower half met his.
“As do you,” he assured her, reaching for her breasts again. “As do you.”
They kissed, touched, grinded against each other, until both were desperate for remaining clothing barriers to be gone.
McKenzie moved off him, and he helped strip away her pajama shorts and underwear.
When he reached for the waistband of his pajama bottoms, she covered his hand with hers.
