Page 53 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

I gasp, back arching in an involuntary bow. My hands scrabble at the rumpled sheets as he drives home to the hilt.

“Fuck, Ryder, that feels so fucking good.”

That’s all he needs. He pulls back slowly, then slams forward. Hard, relentless. Each thrust jerks the breath from my lungs; every slam against my velvet walls presses new, filthy sounds from my throat.

He pivots my hips higher, angling himself so he hits that sweet, trembling spot. My head falls back, lips parted in a silent plea as pleasure floods me.

The headboard thuds against the wall in time with his rhythm. Our bodies slide and slither in the tangled sheets, sweat-slicked skin rubbing.

I’m on fire, trembling with need that’s at once too much and not enough.

“Touch yourself,” he pants roughly. “Let me see you lose it again.”

I reach up, slick fingers seeking the swollen peak of my clit, drawing tight, circular strokes as he plunges into me. He pauses, watching, eyes dark with possessiveness.

“Good girl,” he groans. “Just like that. Show me how you fall apart.”

I don’t last long. A sharp, glorious fracture of pleasure rips through me, hips bucking, breath catching in stuttered gasps as I bottom out in that delirious moment. My legs clamp around him, arching my back off the mattress, and he shatters, too.

“Fuck, Sunny…” he hisses, thrusts, stammering in triumph. With one final, seismic push, he spills into me, growling my name against my throat.

As we do our best to catch our breath, I cling to him, wondering when I’ll be forced to let him go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ryder

December 8th

I waketo the muted light of morning seeping through the curtains. But it’s not the light that drags me out of sleep. It’s the quiet.

The absence of the noise I’m used to, and the strange calm that comes from being here, in this room.

Her room.

For a moment, I lie there, still, trying to ignore the way my thoughts keep drifting back to last night.

To the way she felt against me, the way she looked at me, the way her laughter, honest, unguarded, echoed in my head long after we’d said goodbye to the ice rink and all that ridiculous holiday cheer.

I wasn’t supposed to get caught up in it. I wasn’t supposed to get caught up in her.

But here I am.

She’s asleep beside me, her body half-tangled in the sheets, her curls spilling over her face. She looks so damn peaceful, so effortless in the way she lets go.

It’s… almost maddening. I haven’t had peace in years. Not in this way.

Tinsel is curled in a ball at the foot of the bed, paws twitching in some dream I can’t share, which brings a small smile to my face.

I should leave. I should get up, get dressed, and walk out. No goodbyes. No promises. I don’t need this.

But then I see her, see how soft she is, how vulnerable, how completely unaware of the turmoil she’s caused inside me, and I’m paralyzed for a second.

It’s as if I’ve slipped into someone else’s life, someone else’s skin, and for a moment, it’s… nice.

But then the phone rings. It’s sharp, sudden, cutting through the quiet.

I glance down at the screen, my chest tightening instinctively when I see Nolan’s name flash up. Nolan doesn’t call unless it’s urgent. And the last thing I need right now is another problem to fix.