give way to her orgasm. He couldn’t. He thrust rapidly with all the strength he had. Over and over, he pounded into her body, taking everything she had to offer, unable to hold back a single thing. He wanted to give it all to her. All of him.
Her first orgasm gave way to a second, and he still rocked inside her, harder and harder. Darcy’s fingernails scored his back, the sting only driving him higher.
“Fuck, Darcy,” he groaned as his balls constricted. He was lost. Lost inside her, and he never, ever wanted to be found.
“Oh, oh, oh!” she panted, her third orgasm triggering his.
He clenched his eyes tightly as pleasure and pain mingled, became the same damn thing.
Ryder held himself over her for a full minute after his climax had passed, refusing to open his eyes, knowing he’d give too much away.
When he felt as if he could control his expression, he looked at her.
“You okay?” he asked, suddenly aware of just how roughly he’d taken her.
She nodded. “That was amazing. I think I’m starting to understand how people can become sex addicts.”
He chuckled, withdrawing and dropping next to her. Leave it to Darcy to find a way to make him laugh, even when he felt so raw inside.
Ryder slowly drew the plug out of her ass as she shuddered, still trying to come down from her orgasms.
He dropped the plug to the floor. He’d deal with that later. Right now, he was boneless, physically exhausted.
Darcy kissed his jaw sweetly.
“I want to take you out to dinner tomorrow night,” he said.
She lifted her head and smiled at him like he’d invited her to fly to Paris with him. “Okay. You still staying the night tonight?” she asked tentatively, clueing him in to the fact that he had a bad habit of pulling away after sex.
“Unless you want me to leave.”
“Hell no.” She wrapped herself around him, her arm around his waist, his chest serving as her pillow.
He closed his eyes, soaking up how good it felt to hold her in his arms like this. He lay there for a long time, relaxed, at peace, as Darcy slept.
He was just about to fall asleep himself when he heard her whisper, “I love you.”
Ryder didn’t move, didn’t respond. Hell, he wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
She’d obviously waited until she’d thought he was sleeping to say those three words.
Sleep deserted him.
She loved him.
And he loved her.
What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
Chapter Fifteen
“Hey, Darc. Over here.”
Darcy glanced across the pub and saw Oliver waving to her.
“Come meet some buddies of mine from work,” he said as she approached. She and Ryder were meeting here for a drink and then going to dinner later.
As far as she was concerned, their trial run had been over for weeks, and she planned to tell him that tonight. She wanted to say she was his girlfriend, and she wanted to scream it to the world.
Equal parts anxious and excited, she’d gotten ready early and decided to wait for him in the pub instead of upstairs.
Gavin wolf-whistled at her. “Somebody must have a hot date. You look awesome, Darcy.”
She hip-checked him appreciatively. “Thanks.”
She’d known Gavin nearly a decade, the man as much a cousin to her as her real cousins. Her uncles Sean and Chad and her aunt Lauren had taken in quite a few foster kids over the years, some remaining weeks, others months. Gavin had moved in when he was fifteen and stayed.
“So what are you guys up to?” she asked.
“We finished a big project today and we felt like celebrating,” Oliver explained. He and Gavin did construction for Uncle Killian and Uncle Justin, as well as Oliver’s dad, Sean. Darcy suspected that one day it would be Oliver and Gavin taking over the reins of J and K Construction when all of her uncles were ready to retire. “Let me introduce you.” Oliver pointed to the other three men standing at the bar with him. “This is Roger. And Deke. And that big guy next to you is Ron.”
Darcy shook hands with Roger and Deke, turning to smile at Ron. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Ron said. “Ollie says you’re an artist or something?”
“Graphic art,” she explained. “I let a computer do all the hard work for me. If I had to feed myself with my paintings or sketches, I’d starve.”
“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. I’m shit with computers,” Ron said affably. “I swear to God, machines hate me. I’ve gotten