Page 32 of Rookie’s Redemption (Iron Ridge Icehawks #5)

"Don't start, Mr. Jealousy. Bear is a professional contractor who's doing excellent work for very reasonable rates."

"I'm sure he is. And I'm sure his motivations are purely professional."

"You're ridiculous." I shift on my bed, and Ryder's eyes follow the movement.

"Maybe a little," he admits, and the honesty in his voice makes my chest warm. "I miss waking up next to you. This bed feels too big."

The longing in his voice echoes exactly what I've been feeling for three days.

"I miss it too. I've been sleeping in your hoodie, which is probably pathetic, but I don't care."

"Are you wearing it now?" His voice has dropped to that lower register that always makes my stomach flutter.

"Maybe."

"Show me."

I angle the laptop down so he can see that yes, I'm absolutely swimming in his green Icehawks hoodie.

"God, that's so fucking sexy," he groans, drawing in a breath through his teeth. "My girl wearing my clothes."

My girl. The possessive note in his voice sends heat spiraling through me.

"It still smells like you," I admit, pulling the fabric up to my nose.

"Mia." The way he says my name is practically a caress. "I wish I was there right now."

"Really? And what would you do if you were here?"

The question slips out before I can stop it, and the heat that flashes in his eyes tells me exactly where his mind has gone.

"Obviously I'd start by getting you out of that hoodie," he says cheekily. "Then I'd kiss every inch of skin I uncovered."

I feel my nipples tighten beneath the soft fabric. "Ryder..."

"Tell me… are you wearing anything under my hoodie?"

The question makes me flush, but I answer honestly. "Just underwear."

"Show me."

The command in his voice makes my core clench with want. I shouldn't do this—we're on a video call, for Christ's sake—but the way he's looking at me through the screen makes me feel bold.

I pull the hoodie over my head slowly, revealing the simple black bra and matching panties I put on without really thinking about it. Ryder's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me, and I hear him suck in a another sharp breath.

"Fuck, Mia. You're so beautiful."

The screen glitches for a moment, pixelating his image, and I frantically tap the touchpad to fix it.

"Don't you dare freeze on me now," I mutter, and his laugh comes through clear even as his image jumps around.

"Technology is not our friend right now," he agrees, and when the image stabilizes, I can see that he's moved closer to his camera. "But I can see you perfectly, and you're gorgeous."

"I wish you were here," I whisper, my hands drifting down to trace the edge of my bra. "I wish these were your hands."

"They will be in three days," he promises, and I watch as he reaches for something off-screen. When his hands return to view, he's pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing the perfect expanse of his chest and abs.

Even through a laptop screen hundreds of miles away, the sight of his naked torso makes my mouth water.

"Now we're even," he says with a grin.

"Not quite even," I point out, letting my eyes drift meaningfully down to where the laptop cuts off his image.

"You want to see more?"

Yes. God, yes.

Instead of answering with words, I let my hand drift down to the waistband of my panties, watching his eyes light up.

"Mia," he breathes, and I can see his hand moving just out of frame. "Are you...?"

"Are you ?" I counter, my fingers slipping beneath the lace to find myself already wet and ready.

"Well I fucking am now!"

The screen flickers again, and for a heart-stopping moment I think we've lost connection. But then his image stabilizes, and I can see his hand moving rhythmically, his head tilted back slightly as he watches me touch myself.

"I'm so wet," I whisper, and his groan is audible through the speakers. "I've been thinking about you all day."

"Tell me what you've been thinking about."

I bite my lip, my fingers moving over my clit as I watch him stroke himself just out of view. "I've been thinking about your mouth. About the way you kiss my neck when you're inside me."

"God, Mia. Keep talking."

"I've been thinking about your hands around my throat. How you hold me down when you make me come." My breathing is getting heavier, and I can see the effect my words are having on him. "I've been thinking about how you feel when you're deep inside me."

"I can't wait to be inside you again," he growls, his hand moving faster. "Three more days."

The promise in his voice combined with the sight of his muscles tensing as he pleasures himself pushes me closer to the edge. My fingers move faster, matching the rhythm I can see in his shoulders.

"Ryder, I'm close," I gasp.

"Come for me, baby. Let me see you fall apart."

His voice, rough with want and love, is all it takes.

I arch against my pillows, my free hand clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure wash over me. Through the haze of my orgasm, I hear him curse and see his body go rigid as he finds his own release with a deep, guttural grunt that sounds too close, but somehow still too far away.

For a moment, we just breathe together, staring at each other through our respective screens.

We talk for a few more minutes about nothing important—his plans for tomorrow, my schedule at the shelter, whether Gandalf has staged any more supply closet escapes.

Normal, everyday things that somehow feel precious when filtered through a laptop screen.

When we finally hang up, I'm left staring at my dark reflection in the laptop screen, feeling simultaneously satisfied and achingly empty.

Three more days.

I can do three more days.