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“Yeah? So is your arse, sweetheart.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, but then I rolled my hips and all that came out of his mouth was the sweetest, neediest moan I’d ever heard. I smirked as I did it again, slowly picking up the pace until I was fucking him deep and hard. “How’s that?” I asked. “Feel good?”

“D-Do you even have to ask?” Jace asked breathlessly. “Fuck!”

“Yeah, I do.” I adjusted my position slightly, wanting my cock to hit his sweet spot with every thrust. And I wasn’t convinced I’d hit it yet. Until I moved again and Jace cried out. “Want to make sure I’m getting it right. You deserve to feel good.”

“Don’t stop! Please… just like that. Oh God!”

That was exactly what I wanted to hear, and I wasn’t planning on changing a damn thing. I wanted to make him come and memorise the look on his face so I could relive it again and again.

Need rushed through me as I fucked him, pleasure filling every inch of me as I thrust into his tight arse again and again, nailing his prostate with every stroke. I could feel my orgasm already rushing towards me, my balls tightening and my cock hardening inside him. I shifted my weight so I could lift one hand off Jace’s thigh and wrap my fingers around his shaft. He let go of his leg to put his hand on top of mine, showing me exactly how to stroke his cock as I fucked him.

“Oh fuck, Riley. Just like that… don’t fucking stop. Fuck… I… shit, like that…” His face was a gorgeous picture of pleasure and it pushed me even closer to the edge. “I… yes! I’m gonna come!”

He gasped out a moan as his cock pulsed in my hand, cum painting my fingers and splattering across his stomach as his arse tightened around me, squeezing and milking my dick. And fuck, I couldn’t last any longer. Pleasure coursed through me, with an intensity that made stars burst behind my eyes as I filled the condom.

My chest heaved as I slowly let go of Jace and lowered his legs around me before leaning down to kiss him softly. My cock was still buried inside him but I was in no rush to move.

“Was that what you wanted?” I asked, my lips virtually pressed against his.

“Mmm, yes. And so much more.” He sighed and kissed me. “I can’t wait to do it again.”

I chuckled. “Well, I don’t need to go to bed for another six hours.”

“Good, but I need some food first.” He grinned. “How do you feel about some cookies? Then maybe some lunch? I happen to have some very good bread.”

“And it happen to have it on good authority it makes great sandwiches. And really good toast.”

“Ooh, cheese toasties? And some soup.”

I kissed him again. “Sounds good. But maybe we should…” I went to pull back but Jace hooked his leg around me, looking up at me with a soft, pleading expression.

“One more kiss first. Please?”

And when he looked at me like that, how could I resist?

ChapterSix

Jace

“Do you want to go out for lunch on Sunday?” Riley asked, one Wednesday morning when we were stood in my kitchen making bacon sandwiches and hash browns, because potato in any form was always worth including no matter what traditionalists said. “There’s a nice pub down near the river—The Unicorn—and they do a good roast.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said as the air fryer beeped and I opened the basket to examine the hash browns. I was still getting used to cooking with it, having been resistant to getting one, but twelve-minute hash browns without needing to pre-heat the oven had been a good selling point. “Do you have any other plans for your days off?”

“Not really,” he said, smiling at me fondly. “I should probably do some washing.”

“Want to come here then? On Sunday. And you could stay.”

“Sounds good.” He leant over to kiss me quickly and then went back to the bacon sizzling on the hob, and I smiled giddily because I couldn’t remember the last time anything in my life had felt thisgood. Over the past few weeks, we seemed to have wordlessly slipped into a relationship, and it almost felt like putting on the world’s cosiest pair of slippers. We fitted into each other’s lives in a way I’d never experienced before, and a couple of times I found myself doing a double-take because surely none of this was actually real?

Surely I hadn’t actually fallen for a baker with broad hands and a soft smile, who got up at two to make bread and didn’t care when I came to bed because it turned out he could sleep through anything? A man who brought me pastries and fresh bread when he turned up at my door after his shift, and who’d listen to me talk about the books I was translating while I made us lunch. Who fucked me so perfectly that I almost cried and looked so goddamn sexy on my cock that the first time I’d topped him, I’d nearly come in thirty-seconds flat from how amazing he looked.

A man who didn’t care about my fucked-up sleep schedule, who put blankets across me when I fell asleep on the sofa, or let me lie next to him, tucked in his arms while he slept. He never complained about my insomnia, never insisted I sleep when he did, and never tried to insinuate that being in a relationship would magically fix it.

A man who saw me for who I was and chose me for it.

But I had fallen for him. And it was so close to perfect that I had no other words to describe it.