he’d yet to touch her below the waist.
Flipping her sweater out, he put it down like a blanket, guiding her to her back on top of it.
Ryder lifted her skirt, grinning when Darcy lifted her hips so he could pull her panties down. He slipped them off.
God help them if the power came back on now.
He was slightly surprised when Darcy—who was clearly all in—tried to close her legs. He pressed them apart with his hands on her thighs.
“Let me look at you.”
She blushed even more, something he hadn’t thought possible.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, just before he lowered his head and ran his tongue along her slit.
It had been so long since he’d tasted a woman, felt the heat from a woman’s pussy. Darcy was soaking wet. He’d noticed that the second he’d pulled down her damp panties.
Ryder used to love sex, used to love being with women. He’d had a reputation in high school and college as being a player, a playboy. A past girlfriend had called him a bad boy, even though he’d rolled his eyes and dismissed the words out of hand. Her comment had been fueled by his sexual tastes, his desire for dominance, for rough sex.
His younger self had actually enjoyed the nicknames, considered them a badge of honor, and he’d cut a swath through cheerleaders and sorority girls. He was more than capable of giving Darcy everything she wanted from a man in the bedroom because he was experienced in all of it—bondage, spankings, control. It was as if her words had been pulled from the Ryder Hagen sex manual.
Or at least, the Ryder Hagen he’d been before marriage.
“Ryder. Oh God,” Darcy breathed, lifting her hips toward his mouth. He stroked her with his tongue once more, then turned his attention to her clit.
Darcy started to writhe beneath him, tossing her head from side to side, drawing his attention to her long, dark, oh-so-pullable hair.
He wasn’t sure how he’d failed to notice all of this before.
Darcy was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“More,” she demanded again. “Please.”
Ryder stroked her clit with his thumb, increasing the speed, the friction. She was close. And he knew exactly how to push her over the edge.
He pushed three fingers inside her, deep, hard.
“Ah!” Darcy gasped loudly, the sound a mix of pleasure and…pain? He lifted his gaze in time to see her slight wince, then her inner muscles clenched against his fingers, and she cried out again, her climax rumbling through her roughly.
One thrust.
God. She’d come with just one thrust of his fingers. He stilled inside her as she rode out her orgasm, trying not to think of how incredible it would be to feel her climax on his dick. She was so tight…so…
He pulled his fingers out slowly, listening to her shaky breath.
“Wow,” she said, her tone wholly Darcy. “That was…”
Suddenly, it wasn’t just Darcy he was noticing.
It was…more than that.
Way more.
He’d spent the last four years around this woman, never seeing what was now so blindingly bright, in focus, crystal clear.
“Darcy…are you a virgin?”
She bit her lower lip. “Not intentionally.”
The answer was so her that he barked out a brief laugh. Even as his chest tightened.
The sound took her by surprise, and even he could hear how rusty it was. He didn’t laugh much. “Maybe that was another secret you should have shared.”
She sat up gingerly, her gaze drifting lower, checking out what was beneath his belt. There was no way he could hide his erection from her, so he didn’t even bother to try.
“Do we have to stop?” she asked.
“Yes.” It was one word, the hardest one he’d ever spoken in his life. But he knew it was for the best, knew he didn’t have a choice. Because he couldn’t give Darcy what she wanted…and he didn’t mean sexually. “I’m not taking your virginity, Darcy. Not on the floor of an elevator. Not anywhere.”
“Ryder. I swear I’m not saving myself for marriage or anything like that. I’ve just never really been with a man I wanted to…”
Her words faded away before she revealed what she didn’t want him to know. What he suspected she’d been carefully concealing from him for years behind her breezy, easy, casual attitude.
It didn’t matter. Because that was the biggest reveal, the one thing he suddenly saw that he couldn’t deny or ignore.
Darcy Young was looking at him like he was her Westley.
And that was someone he wasn’t.
Chapter Four
Darcy was torn between throwing her sweater back on—she suddenly felt very