FORTY-TWO
DAKOTA
I wondered if I even knew what I was asking for with the way those gunmetal eyes both dimmed in possession and flashed in a lightning bolt of lust.
The only thing I knew was I needed to feel him.
Feel him everywhere.
Taking me.
Owning me.
I needed to be stripped bare, pared down to the place that was only Ryder and me. Desperate hands and frantic bodies. Where he’d strip me of the new weight that now rested on my shoulders.
I just needed…this.
A distraction.
A reprieve.
A moment to remind me that everything would be okay. We were going to make it through this. We had each other.
Only a surprised yelp got free when he suddenly leaned down and tossed me over his shoulder.
“Ryder,” I rasped, fingers scraping into his back, half terrified I was going to fall and the other mortified that he thought he could carry me like this. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Carrying my woman to my bed, where she belongs.”
“You’re going to drop me.”
“You keep forgetting these arms were made for you. Think it’s time we make sure you remember.” He had one arm wrapped around my waist, and he reached up with the other and smacked my bottom before he dug his fingers into my butt cheek, gripping a handful.
I choked around the shocked breath, and a rush of arousal flooded.
He started to walk before he snatched the jar of coconut oil I’d used for the new cookie recipe from the counter.
“Think we’re going to need this.” He gave it a small toss, catching it before he started through the kitchen and across the living room.
My insides tumbled in a wash of desire, and I felt half delirious as I clawed at his back, holding onto his shirt.
I bounced against his shoulder as he carried me.
Giddiness pulsed, for a moment overpowering the fear, giving me a reprieve from the dread that I’d stewed in all day. Light as he climbed the stairs, a thrill racing through me, need clattering through my senses.
A muddle of desire.
He didn’t carry me into my room that we’d been sharing for the last few nights. He turned left into the gauzy darkness of his, and I was instantly back to when I’d walked in on him. When I’d been so confused. Riddled with questions.
But his need no longer remained a mystery as he went directly to the side of his bed and dumped me onto the mattress.
Mischief glinted in his gaze as he watched me bounce on his bed, something sly cutting into the sharpened angles of his face.
He never looked away as he set the jar on the nightstand.
Midnight standing over me.
Darkness and gravity.
But it was a giggle that was skipping up my throat.
Joy and trust and need.
My hips followed it, arching toward him in their own plea.
“Always so eager,” he rumbled.
“I need it, I need you,” I rushed, unashamed to admit it.
“I’m going to take care of you, Cookie. Promise you.”
He reached in and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my sleep shorts and ripped them down my legs, taking my underwear with them.
Cool air hit my heated flesh.
“Now who’s eager?” I spouted the tease.
He rewarded me by shoving two fingers into my throbbing center.
A cry jutted free, and he stroked them in twice, so deep before he withdrew, climbed up to straddle me still wearing all his clothes, then pressed them into my mouth.
His fingers still tasted sweet, though they were coated with my arousal, and I groaned at the mix. At the man who hovered over me, knees on either side, a gorgeous silhouette that towered in the night.
“Are you mine, Cookie?” he asked as he dragged his fingers out, raking them over my bottom lip and down my chin.
“Yes. All of me. Everything. It’s yours.”
He inched back a fraction so he could gather the hem of my sweatshirt and ripped that off, too.
It left me a bare, writhing mess of desire below him.
Slowly, he eased off the bed, and I was shaking beneath his deliberation. The way his gaze went predatory.
Mad with hunger.
A frenzy that he barely kept in check.
“On your hands and knees.” The command scraped the dense air.
I didn’t hesitate. I scrambled to meet his demand.
“Good girl,” he said right before his hand cracked against my bottom. A second later he was smoothing his palm over the cheek.
I cried out in surprise, not because the sting really hurt but because I was shocked by how much I liked it. How my hips were rocking back in a bid to meet with him in any way I could get him.