Page 107 of Come Break My Heart Again

And then it’s crashing over me, my muscles trembling and shaking and twitching. A complete slave to the consuming sensations. I can feel each chaotic beat of my heart, the pounding gradually slowing as I sink into the mattress. The craze has settled into a steady, satisfied hum, my limbs loose and pliant.

He’s a really, really good kisser.

Ryder’s smile is deservedly smug. There are still a few stars twinkling behind my eyelids. His lips are shiny, and I try to memorize what that looks like. I want to remember what it feels like.

Mine.

“Wow.” My voice sounds normal again, but the tone is definitely awed.

“Yeah?” Ryder reaches for his cupcake again, this time breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. The only way the sight would be sexier is if his shirt was off.

“Yeah.”

He nods, then swallows. “Good.”

I sit up, too, but don’t reach for my underwear. I want him to know I’m still bare beneath my cheer skirt.

“Want a bite?” Ryder holds a piece of cupcake out.

“You didn’t even wash your hands.”

He smirks. “Didn’t need to. You were already so … wet.”

Cheeks burning, I take the bite. Chocolaty richness explodes in my mouth, followed by the faint aftertaste of marshmallow and graham cracker.

I swallow, then climb onto his lap. I’m still so sensitive that the brush of his mesh shorts between my legs feels incendiary.

“I want more. I want … you.”

Ryder closes the cupcake box, his expression turning serious. I’m sure he’s thinking about how our last conversation on this subject went.

“If you want to wait, that’s okay,” I say. “But …Idon’t want to wait.”

I’m greedy for another orgasm. Eager to experience sex again. And he’s the only one my body wants.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Let me grab a condom. They’re under the bed.”

I don’t allow myself to think about that convenience. I nod and swing my leg back off his lap, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. I should take it off. Or will he want to? My memory of the details from last time is fuzzy, faded by nerves and embarrassment and eventually anger.

Ryder reaches under the bed and returns with a box I’m ridiculously relieved to see is still sealed.

I use the tiny boost to confidently tug my shirt off, unclasping my bra and adding it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. I glance toward the window. All that’s visible is a green stretch of hedge. I can see the water clinging to the branches. It’s still raining out.

He’s pulling his shirt off, too, a foil packet visible in one hand as the rest of the box goes back under the bed.

I slip out of my skirt, then lie back down.

“Fuck,” Ryder comments, his eyes on my body.

“You’ve seen it all before,” I remind him.

He’s focused on me so closely that I’m torn between self-consciousness and satisfaction about the intense attention.

“Not for two years. Your boobs are bigger. And you’ve started shaving more.” He cups my hip bone, his thumb sweeping across the small section of hair no one else has seen.

Heat blazes in my cheeks. “I didn’t know I was supposed to …”

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Elle. Always have been. Always will be.”

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