The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,80

anywhere.”

His body covers mine in the next instant, his hand immediately cupping my mound. When his finger finds my slick folds, his growl echoes off the ceiling. “That’s my duchess. So fucking wet just from watching me. How many times have you had to pet this pretty pussy ever since that night at your place?”

My hips arch upward. “More times than I can count. I broke my favorite vibrator.”

“Sexiest fucking woman,” he mutters against my fevered skin.

“Ryder, please.” I grab for him, the urgency for fulfillment uncontrollable. “In me. Now.”

His dripping tip briefly touches my clit before he pulls back. “Shit. Condom.”

I stop him from reaching for his pants. “It’s okay. I don’t want it.”

His pupils dilate when they lock on mine. “Seriously? Are you sure?”

I nod, my hands skating over his compact torso. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.”

He shifts all of his weight onto his elbows. “Same. Christ, I’ve been dying to have you bareback. I can’t guarantee this one’s gonna last long.”

I wiggle my hips to get him at the right angle. “As long as we get there together, I don’t care how long it lasts. We’ve got all night. I need to keep you primed.”

“Believe me, duchess, that never requires effort on your part.”

He thrusts inside in one smooth movement. Our mouths fall open as we both gasp for air. I might have been wet and ready, but it’s still a tight fit with Ryder’s size. And it feels fucking sublime.

“Oh, God.”

He nuzzles his nose against my chin. “Missed this.”

I nod in agreement because I can’t find words. Especially when he starts to move. He hips piston back and forth, pushing in, pulling out. When I clamp my legs around his waist, he drives harder until he’s pounding me into the mattress. My hands mold to his ass, keeping him right where I need him as he pumps…pumps…pumps.

We roll from one side of the bed to the other.

We get tangled in the sheets.

We hold each other close as we surrender to bliss.

He just keeps getting better.

I figured after the night of three rounds at my place, such a thing would be impossible. Yet here I am. Stunned speechless at the realization that I can’t imagine any man affecting me more deeply—physically and emotionally—than this man does.

“Somehow, I’m going to find a way to make you mine,” he whispers.

You know the phrase stricken blind?

Well, that statement has me stricken mute.

What the hell does mine even mean? And how the hell do I know that Ryder is what’s good for me? How can anybody be sure that they’ve found the “right” person? That it’s for real?

He doesn’t seem bothered by my silence. Instead, he lays a soft kiss on my lips, as if telling me it’s okay that I say nothing. I can hear his voice in my head. I only said that to give you a fair warning, duchess. So that you’re not surprised when I do end up making you mine. Forever.

With nothing to dispose of after he pulls out, Ryder rolls me over and wraps his body around mine like a sexy burrito, kissing me sweetly until we’re drifting off to sleep together. But before I succumb to slumber, something niggles at the back of my mind. Something that won’t go away.

Something…feels curiously familiar about the sex we just had.

Déjà vu swarms my mind as my eyes grow heavy, but I can’t pinpoint its origin. Sure, we’ve had sex a few times before, but there’s something specific about tonight that stands out.

Somehow, I’m going to find a way to make you mine.

I’ve heard him say that before.

But when? Where?

I fall asleep still sifting through memories but come up with nothing.

This time, when I wake up after a full night of sweaty sex with Ryder, I’m still in bed with him, watching him sleep. He looks more peaceful than I’ve ever seen him. The stress lines around his mouth are relaxed, the creases in his forehead caused by tension are smoothed out. I run my finger over the stubble smattering his cheeks, unable to resist the urge any longer.

I’m still working through what I was trying to untangle last night, but I’ve decided to table it until we’re back in Charleston. No serious discussions yet, no major decisions. An ominous sense of foreboding has been settling like a lead weight in my stomach as we approach our flight tomorrow, and I’m not ready to burst this bubble yet.

Like Ryder said last night, everything will remain