She groaned my name, throwing her head back to rest against my shoulder as I snapped my hips, keeping the pace steady.

It was the best sound ever.

Sweat slicked our skin as I bent her slightly, taking her at a deeper angle, hitting a spot that had her moaning, crying, moving with me so we collided again and again.

There were no words. No thoughts. No plans. Just Ryleigh.

Her cries pitched higher as the pleasure at the base of my spine threatened to crack, to consume me, to end the perfection of this moment.

“I need you to come again, baby.” I kissed her sweat-damp neck, pulling her back so we were connected from hip to shoulder.

“Caz,” she groaned.

“Look. At. Us.” I punctuated each word with a thrust. “Look at the way you’re taking me. So fucking sexy.”

She looked, our eyes locking as I thrust again and again, nearing the breaking point.

I slid my hand from her hip to her pussy, lightly strumming her hypersensitive little clit as I thrust harder. Deeper. Faster.

She came in a violent shudder, clamping down on my cock as the pleasure took her and dragging me right over the edge with her.

I saw the damned stars as I emptied into her, the motion kicking her orgasm into another wave before we both drifted down.

My fucking knees were weak as I struggled for breath, plastered against her back.

“You. Weren’t. Kidding,” she said, leaning over the chair and resting her head on her hands. “You made that happen three times.”

I met her eyes in the mirror and grinned. “You made that happen three times. I just got to facilitate it.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” I kissed her back and slipped from her tight warmth. “And if you give me five minutes to clean us up, I’ll do it again.”

Her lips parted and a spark of desire lit up in her eyes.

“Maybe less time than that,” I muttered as my cock started to swell again.

I cleaned us both up and tucked her into bed. “Let me grab you something to drink,” I said with a kiss. “Hydration is key, you know.”

“Hurry back,” she whispered, deepening the kiss.

I tore myself away and headed for the kitchen buck naked, pouring a couple of glasses of water. I wasn’t lying. My plans were to keep her in that bed all night. Or maybe the shower…

It was the best sex of my life.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a folder perched on the counter that I hadn’t seen earlier that night with the name of a local builder sprawled across it.

Her house. Her plans. Her life.

I didn’t fit into any of it.

I was just the distraction. The rebound. The fling.

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I pushed every thought away but the woman down the hall. Maybe we weren’t meant for forevers, but we had tonight.

And I planned to make the most of every second.

10

Ryleigh

“That came for you today,” my mom said from her position in front of the sink. She jerked her head over her shoulder, arching a brow at the thick manila envelope on the kitchen table.

I’d just come to the kitchen to grab a water, but headed to the table since she was using her serious tone. I fingered the envelope, immediately sighing when I saw who it was from. “You could’ve just tossed it,” I said, dismissing the packet and walking to the fridge. I’d spent the entire day fielding last-minute wedding details for London, and I was exhausted. Plus, I hadn’t seen or heard from Caspian since we’d had sex—we’d been that busy with wedding duty.

No, wait. Having sex wasn’t the right term to use. More like, having my world shook. Having my mind blown. Finding a new addiction that I had no idea how to manage. He’d successfully ruined me in the most delicious way in the span of one night. One night, three rounds, endless bliss. God, I’d had no idea sex could be that…explosive.

Caspian. It’s Caspian whose explosive.

“Ryleigh Dunham,” my mom chided me as I closed the fridge and took a seat at the kitchen table. When was the last time I sat down? It felt like it’d been hours. “You did not just say that to me.” She turned off the faucet and dried her hands with a cup towel.

I twisted open the cap on my bottle of water, taking a decent chug while eying the envelope on the table like it might bite me. My chest tightened as a I continued to stare at it.

Mom pulled out the chair opposite me, scooping up the thick envelope and ripping it open. The sound may as well have flayed me open too as she dumped the contents in front of me.

“They’re still taking applications,” she said, pushing the college of art and design in Minneapolis course catalog in front of me. A few other brochures—housing options, local highlights, and campus events—spilled out next to the thick magazine. “You can easily get late acceptance into the master’s program.”

Tags: Samantha Whiskey Carolina Reapers Romance
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