Page 11

Chapter 11

RYLAN

I turn my head, tucking my face into the curve of his neck. The scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely Jamie fills my lungs, and something inside me snaps. All my careful walls and rigid control shatter into a million pieces.

Jamie tenses against me, probably sensing the shift. But before he can pull away, before I can talk myself out of this, I press my lips to the soft skin below his ear.

"Rylan?" His voice is barely a whisper, equal parts hopeful and uncertain. "What are you...?"

Instead of answering, I trail my lips along his jaw, feeling the slight scratch of stubble. My hands fist in his shirt, and I can feel his heart pounding. Or maybe that's my heart. Everything is hazy, like I'm moving through a dream.

"Tell me to stop," I breathe against his skin. "Tell me I'm reading this wrong."

Jamie's hands slide up my back, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. "Don't you dare stop," he says roughly. "God, Ry, I thought I was imagining it. The way you look at me sometimes, how you..."

I cut him off with a real kiss this time. It's desperate and messy and nothing like the controlled way I usually do things. Jamie makes this broken sound in the back of his throat like he's been waiting forever for this, and then he's kissing me back with everything he has.

His mouth is soft but demanding against mine, and when his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him without hesitation. The first slide of his tongue against mine sends electricity down my spine. My hands move on their own, one tangling in his curls while the other grips his shoulder like an anchor.

When we finally break apart to breathe, Jamie rests his forehead against mine. "Please tell me this isn't just because you're upset about your dad," he whispers. "Because I've wanted this—wanted you—for so long, Ry. But I don't want to pressure you… I mean, are you..?"

"I want this. I want you. It's not the thing with my dad. "My voice is rough. "I've been fighting this since the first time we met… Since we shook hands in Carson's office…"

His hands frame my face, his thumbs stroking over my cheekbones. "Yeah?" There's something vulnerable in his expression that makes my chest ache. "Because I've been going crazy trying not to want you. Trying to convince myself I was reading too much into every little moment between us."

"You weren't." I lean into his touch.

"Jesus, Rylan, I had no idea you were…"

"That's generally the idea behind being in the closet…"

He lets out a surprised chuckle, followed quickly by a smile that looks way too friendly for my liking right now. "Ry..." He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. "We don't have to—"

But I'm done holding back. Done pretending. Done fighting this pull between us. I surge forward to kiss him again, pouring everything I can't say into it. All the want, all the need, all the feelings I've been desperately trying to suppress.

Jamie responds immediately, like he's been waiting for this exact moment. His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss, and oh —this is what it's supposed to feel like. This consuming heat, this desperate need to get closer, this feeling like I might die if I don't keep touching him.

He makes a sound low in his throat that shoots straight through me. His tongue slides against mine and I taste coffee and mint and pure masculine heat. It's better than scoring a goal, better than winning a game, better than anything I've ever felt before.

I thread his fingers through his hair, softer than I imagined during all those times I wanted to touch it. His body is hard and strong against mine. Fuck, he feels good. The contrast of his physical power and emotional vulnerability makes me dizzy with want.

This isn't just attraction or lust - though there's plenty of both. This is something deeper, more profound. Every brush of his lips, every shared breath feels like pieces clicking into place, like finding something I didn't even know I was missing.

My breath catches in my throat as his lips brush against my neck, sending a jolt of electricity through my entire body. Every nerve-ending sparks to life. His breath is hot against my skin, tentative yet deliberate, and my heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it.

JAMIE

I slide my hands down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt. Rylan shivers, his grip on my shirt tightening. His mouth moves from mine to my jaw, then down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I tilt my head back, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

His hands roam over my body, exploring every inch of me. I can feel the heat of his touch through my clothes, and it’s driving me crazy. I need more. I need to feel his skin against mine.

I tug at the hem of his shirt, and he understands immediately, breaking away just long enough to pull it over his head. I do the same, and then we’re back together, chest to chest, skin to skin. The sensation is overwhelming. His body is a work of art, all hard muscle and smooth skin, and I can’t get enough of it.

Rylan’s hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of my shoulders, my arms, my back. I mirror his movements, learning the landscape of his body. Every touch, every caress, is a revelation. It’s like we’re speaking a language only we understand, communicating in a way that goes beyond words.

He presses me back onto the bed, his weight on top of me, and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. The friction of our bodies moving together is intoxicating. I can feel his arousal pressing against mine, and it sends a surge of heat through me.

Rylan’s mouth finds mine again, and this time the kiss is slower, deeper. It’s a promise, a question, and an answer all rolled into one. I pour everything I’m feeling into that kiss, all the longing and desire and hope. And he gives it all back to me, tenfold.

His hand slips between us, fingers wrapping around both of us. The sensation is almost too much, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. But I don’t want him to stop. I never want him to stop.

I match his rhythm, our hands moving together, creating friction that’s both exquisite and torturous. Every stroke, every touch, brings us closer to the edge. Our breaths come in short, sharp gasps, our bodies slick with sweat.

I can feel the tension building, the pressure growing. Rylan’s grip tightens, his movements becoming more urgent. I’m right there with him, teetering on the brink.

And then we’re falling, together. The world explodes in a burst of light and sensation. Pleasure courses through me, wave after wave, each one more intense than the last. Rylan’s body shudders against mine, his release mirroring my own.

We ride out the aftershocks together, our bodies still entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal. And in that moment, everything feels right. Everything feels perfect.