We both exhale—in pleasure, in relief. I’ve been waiting my entire life to want someone this much. To feel safe enough to drop my defenses. He pulls out partway and drives in again, and I’m along for the ride, letting him take the wheel. My heart is swelling and warming, like it’s too big for my chest. He’s locked in, thrusting slowly and watching me, changing his angle or his pressure, and each roll of his hips is better than the last.

“I take back everything I said about your books”—I gasp with another thrust—“if they taught you tricks like this.”

“Tricks?” A vein on his forehead is popping; he’s working hard to stay in control.

I wave in the direction of our hips. “This. You’re good at this.”

He thrusts again and I groan. “No tricks.”

“So you’re naturally gifted?”

“Nope. Just paying attention.”

And god, if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

“For example…” He bends my knee up against him, lifts my hips off the bed an inch, and presses inside me again, a new angle that makes me whimper. “You seem to like that.” He leans down and puts his teeth on my earlobe; I shiver. “And that.” Then his hand moves up to my hair and makes a fist; my eyes roll back in my head. “And that, too.”

“Do you like it?” I feel like I’m not contributing much, but it’s difficult to participate when I’m melting into the bed.

“I like everything about this. Fantasy girl, remember?”

He closes his eyes and rolls into me again. Over and over, slow and steady—until it’s not. He quickens his pace, pressing his forehead against mine. Every muscle in his body is tense and taut. I run my fingernails down his back and bite his shoulder and kiss his neck until finally his rhythm falters and he tenses and shudders, holding on as long as he can to this moment before collapsing on me.

“Oof,” I say.

He springs up, rolling off me. “I’m sorry, did I—”

I tug him back over me. “Crush me, please.”

Shaking his head, he pulls me on top of him and I sprawl out, my cheek on his chest, listening to his heart rate slowly coming down. Every speck of tension in my body dissolves until I’m rag-doll limp and drifting toward sleep.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks.

My eyes pop open. The thought of leaving hadn’t even occurred to me. “I might as well. Don’t want anyone to swoop in and take my place at breakfast with you tomorrow. By the way—where the hell did that lipstick on your cheek come from?”

I sound like a jealous harpy, but Ryan chuckles and wraps his arms around me. It’s like being in a straitjacket; I love it.