He pulled back and ripped the foil package. Feeling bold, I caught the condom from him—he arched a brow at me—and I rolled it over him, drawing a sharp inhale from him.

His lips tugged up and he lay over me again, his eyes never leaving mine. Slowly, he slid inside me and I gasped, shocked and amazed at how much he filled me, how good it was. And he hadn’t even started moving yet.

Ryan lowering his head to my neck, and then buried himself deep inside me before he stopped. With a grunt, he nipped my neck. This stillness, this fullness, this heat, all of it was killing me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I rolled my hips. With another grunt, Ryan took the hint and started moving.

He dragged his lips up my neck and jaw, until they were back to my mouth. He kissed me as slowly and deeply as he moved, and it felt like hell and heaven rolled into one. Torture and pleasure, and a sense that I would explode and die at any second.

But I wanted more. I wanted so much more. I wanted everything from him.

I bit his lower lip and dug my nails into his hard ass, pushing him against me.

He pulled back and raised an eyebrow at me, a wicked glint in his hazel eyes. “What do you want?” he rasped, his voice heavy.

To tease me, he slowed even more. I groaned.

“Say it,” he commanded.

Then he stopped moving all together.

“What the hell?” I cried.

He chuckled. “Tell me what you want.”

Oh, I wouldn’t tell him; I would show him.

With a wicked grin, I pushed him back and flipped us around. His back hit the mattress and I straddled him, lowering myself to take him in as deep as humanly possible.

He hissed, his eyes traveling up my body. “I think I like this view.”

“This is what I want,” I whispered.

Then I started moving, up and down, up and down, as hard and fast as I could. His hands clutched my waist and he held on to me, cursing under his breath. After a few moments, he lifted his hips, joining me in this sweet torture.

I leaned over him, changing the friction a little, and Ryan reached up, cupping my breasts. He squeezed, pinched, and teased. Too many feelings and emotions swirled in my chest, in my stomach, in my legs … everywhere. My blood was boiling, and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. By the way Ryan clutched me, his concentration at every stroke and touch, I knew it wouldn’t be long for him too.

God, this was something else. Our first time had been awkward, at least for me. And a little painful. I remembered feeling sore the next morning, knowing it would pass when Ryan and I had sex again. But that never happened.

After him, I had two one-night stands, then Gavin—but it wasn’t the same. The feeling wasn’t there. I didn’t really like them. I had just been looking for a quick release and nothing else.

This—here with Ryan, in his bed, with his hands all over me and his eyes filled with desire—was different. This was perfect. This was too much.

I was about to let go when Ryan withdrew his hands from my body and knotted them behind his head. “Time to admire the view again,” he said.

I wanted to enjoy the view too. My eyes traveled his taut arms, the muscles even more prominent in this position—damn, he was so, so hot—until I spotted a tattoo on the underside of his triceps. My mouth fell open and I stopped moving.

It was a “J” surrounded by roses forming a stylized heart.

Could it—? Was it—?

Before I could process what I saw and ask him about it, Ryan sat up, circled his arms around me, and rolled us over again.

He pressed his body to mine. “My turn again.”

This time, though, he didn’t go slowly. Oh no. He thrust into me even harder and faster than when I was on top, and to torture me more, he slid a hand between us and rolled my clit between his fingers.

This was it. Ryan was the one I always wanted, and the one I could—would—never have.

Yet, here we were.

Surrendering. Relishing. Possessing. Drowning in each other. One last time.

The perfect closure.

Stars burst behind my eyelids, and my body shook uncontrollably. Six seconds later, Ryan’s quavering body lay limp over mine.

As our aftershocks withered, he kissed me again. Slow and deep this time. And maybe it was just me, but I could feel it through his lips, through his tongue, and in his gentle touch. The caring. The longing. The satisfaction.

With a smile, Ryan broke the kiss. “Be right back,” he said.

He rolled off me and I instantly grew cold, missing the contact of his warm skin. He stood and marched to the bathroom. I couldn’t help but gawk at his exuberant form, my body instantly heating up again, even though my mind was on the verge of a freak out.

I tried compartmentalizing what had happened, but it was too much. My mind wanted to analyze it instead. It was as if my brain had downloaded too much information and couldn’t process it all at once. Although, instead of information, it was emotion. Pure emotion.

Satisfaction. Shock. Lust. Sadness. Happiness. Longing. Love.

Love.

My throat closed up and I fought back tears.

Rachel was right. I still loved him.

In less than thirty seconds, Ryan exited the bathroom, and I closed my eyes, pretending I was sleeping.

It was easier than facing him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ryan

Jessica’s scent enveloped me and I smiled, still half-asleep. I rolled to my side, reaching for her, but found her side of the bed empty.

“Jess?” I called, propping myself on my elbows and looking around my loft. She was nowhere to be seen. I glanced at the bathroom door; it was open. I sat up and looked around, where I remembered I tossed her shoes, her dress, and her panties. There was nothing of hers in my apartment. “Shit.”

I bolted from my bed and found my phone on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was already past noon, and there were no messages, no calls. Damn it.

I grabbed my T-shirt from the floor, intent on shoving it on and driving to her house, but I caught a whiff of cigar and alcohol from it. Even though I didn’t smoke and rarely drank, every time I went out, my clothes smelled as if I had slept in the gutter.

Shit. I undressed on the way to the bathroom and took a quick shower. I found a pair of clean jeans and a black T-shirt on my dresser, shoved on my boots, and ran out of the apartment. I knew about their Saturday family lunch, but I was hoping that at 1:15 p.m., most of them were already gone. Right.

As I suspected, Luke’s bike was in the driveway between his mother’s Honda and a rental car I had never seen before. I parked my Mustang in front of the driveway and raced to the front door.

I rang the bell and knocked.

A few seconds later, Jason opened the door. “Hey, man, where’s the fire?”

“Where’s your sister?” I asked.

Frowning, he stood in the doorway. “What happened?”

“J-man, you’re like a brother to me, but please, don’t fuck with me now. Where’s Jessica?”

“What’s going on?” Jessica asked, coming down the stairs.

Jason stepped aside. “Ryan is here.”

I fixed my eyes on hers. “We need to talk.”

Someone came down the stairs behind her. A man. A man I didn’t know. He halted beside Jessica, his shoulder touching hers. Her face paled.

“Everything okay, babe?” the guy asked.

Babe? Babe? I clenched my fists as anger seeped into me. “Who the hell is this guy?”

Jason stepped out of the house and placed a hand on my arm, probably noticing the rage in me.

“His name is Gavin. He’s a friend from Cleveland.”

“I’m her boyfriend,” he said, smiling.

Shit, I would break his teeth.

Jessica snapped her head to him. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

The guy’s face fell. “But—”

“What’s with the commotion?” Luke emerged from the kitchen. He looked from me to Gavin and back to me. “Oh shit.”