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“All right. I’m actually quite impressed with all this,” Mya says frankly. “This is unlike you.”
“Very,” Diana agrees.
“That’s the thing—I don’t think that’s true. I think this is very like me. I just didn’t realize it.”
Mya grins. “So the enemy Eastwood captain made you realize you enjoy public sex.”
“I think yes, maybe he did.”
Like my sex life is a video game and then Ryder shows up and unlocks a new level, helping me discover a whole new kink.
In fact, he’s helped me discover a lot of things about myself. Like my tendency to refuse to voice my darker thoughts or complain about my problems for fear of being judged or told I have no right to complain because my life is too good. Thanks to him, I’ve been forcing myself to dig deeper into why I feel the things I feel, and why I do the things I do. Like the fact that I want something my dad doesn’t have. A medal. I always believed acknowledging that sort of stuff made you weak or, worse, turned you bitter.
But I’ve felt a strange sense of lightness ever since I released all of that.
Maybe what I really needed was to find the right person to release it to.
“Case would’ve been so uncomfortable with all this public stuff,” I admit. “He’s such a Boy Scout. He was okay with car sex sometimes, but I can’t possibly envision him getting me off at the opera. I would’ve felt weird asking him to.”
“But you’re perfectly cool asking Luke Ryder.”
“I’d ask him anything. I’m never worried, not in the slightest, that he’d judge me. He never does. He accepts me for exactly who I am.”
They both stare at me.
“What?”
“Oh my God. This isn’t about sex,” Diana accuses. She glances toward Mya. “This isn’t about sex.”
“Nope,” Mya confirms.
I wrinkle my forehead. “No, it is. Of course it is.”
Diana offers an oddly gentle smile. “Gigi. You’re in love with this guy.”
My jaw drops. “I am not.”
I’m almost angry at them for suggesting it. It catches me completely off guard, because here we were having a lighthearted sex chat, and they had to turn it into a discussion about stupid feelings.
Ryder and I don’t “do” feelings.
So why do you feel all of them?
Sometimes I really hate that voice in my head.
Fine. Maybe I feel some things. Urgency. Fascination. Hunger. Confusion. Desperate, raw need. Pure, bone-deep contentment.
Oh no. Those last two sound a lot like…
Nope.
I push it out of my mind and shut down the conversation when my friends tease me about it again over dinner. Later, while I’m washing the dishes and Mya wipes down the table, my phone buzzes near her hand. She peeks at the screen and says, “It’s your true love.”
“Oh, stop it,” I grumble.
I dry my hands on a rag and go over to read the text.
RYDER:
Can I come over tonight? Need a change of scenery.
And a couple of hours later, we’re in my bed driving each other crazy. His strong hands roam my body, warm lips trailing over my skin. My palms skim the defined muscles of his chest as I crawl lower and take him in my mouth. I suck him slow and deep, while he makes husky noises of approval, stroking my hair.
“You look so pretty right now,” he mumbles, peering down at me.
I smile around his thick shaft before releasing him. Then I wrap my fist around him and lazily move it up and down, loving the way his gaze thickens, goes hazy.
“Why don’t you come up here and sit on my dick.” His features crease with agitation, hips lifting as he tries thrusting faster into my hand.
“You need it that bad, huh?”
“So bad.” He’s not even joking. His long muscular body quivers on the bed.
I have mercy on him and climb up to straddle him, except now I’m the one mindless with desire. He fills me so completely. A sense of belonging, of pure rightness washes over me, making me sag onto his strong chest. I grind against him, the need building until black dots dance in my vision and my clit is swollen and hot. He grips my hips as I ride him.
“Fuck, Gigi. Keep going, baby.”
I’m lying on top of him now, rocking wildly.
“I love this so much,” I whisper, my hips totally beyond my control. They’re moving on their own.
“That’s it,” Ryder encourages roughly. “Show me how much you want it. Take what you need.”
So I do. I ride him, while he palms my breasts and squeezes, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs. I moan his name as a tight knot of pleasure gathers in my core.
Approval fills his eyes. “Yes. Keep saying my name. I want everyone in this building to know who’s making you feel this way.”
That’s all it takes for the knot to detonate. I collapse on his chest and ride out the orgasm, and I’m still gasping when he flips us over, pulling me onto my knees. One muscular arm locks around my chest, keeping me flush to him.
