OhGodOhGodOhGod…I had no idea what to say. The only time I’d had sex, it was missionary, and I honestly didn’t know how this would work with the height difference or—

“You’re thinking, Syd. Did you change your mind?”

Was that what he wanted? Or did he just expect that of me, because he’d heard what Nate had said? I was frigid, and frigid girls sure as hell didn’t do this. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Like this.”

A muttered curse came out of him, and my eyes flew open. Was that the wrong thing to say? But then his hands fisted my sweater and before I could say “orgasm,” he had tugged my sweater right over my head and off me.

And then I was standing there in my jeans and bra. Not the grossly padded bra—thank God—but a bra. Holy crap, we were going to do this—he was going to do me. We were going to fuck. A little bit of unease wiggled its way through me. There was nothing romantic about that, nothing sweet and affectionate. Fucking was just that—fucking. And he didn’t sound particularly happy about any of this.

This was all wrong.

Kyler’s large hands landed on the bare skin of my sides, and I jerked at the contact. “Put your hands on the glass, Syd.”

All thoughts fled my mind as the heat expanded deep within me. My body responded shamelessly to his order and the deep timbre of his voice. The windowpane was cool under my palms.

“Good.” One hand drifted over my skin, moving to just below my belly button and over the band of my jeans. His hand flattened. “Keep your hands on the window.”

He pulled me toward him as he seemed to lean over me, so that I was slightly bowed and nestled against him, but still touching the window. I could feel him hot and hard pressing into my back, and sensation trilled through my veins.

“You should’ve said something earlier—that this was all you wanted.” There was a tightness to his words, a hard edge I didn’t understand. He was definitely ticked off, but he was doing this.

Confusion and lust swirled inside me, and I didn’t know which way I was going. His other hand started to move, skimming up along my ribs, sending shivers through me. “I would’ve…helped you out a long time ago,” he said.

I couldn’t think, not when his hand drifted over my upper stomach and then over the cup of my bra. A moan escaped me as my back arched. “Kyler…”

“Shit.” His hand stilled as his hips pushed forward. With his other hand still holding me in place there was no escaping the slow, torturous pump or what it meant. Not that I wanted to. I pushed back against him and he groaned deep in his throat.