Page 134 of The Most Perfect Wrong

I happen to be one of those things.

And damn, I’m lucky.

My hand flattens against his stomach, fingers moving with intent as the thought settles in. He doesn’t just show up—he cares. About me. About us. About making this work.

His fingers dip beneath the edge of my panties, and I grin, biting softly on my bottom lip as excitement flutters in my stomach. I shift, straddling him. My hands roam over his chest, savoring every inch of this beautiful, impossibly perfect man who somehow chose me. He shifts beneath me, his abs flexing as he scoots up on the lounger, half lying, half sitting, his gaze locked on mine.

Smiling softly, I brush a piece of hair off his forehead, letting my fingers linger for a moment.

“What are you smiling at?” he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just… you.”

There’s something in his eyes that holds me captive as my focus shifts to the sensation of his touch. Ryan’s hands glide up my legs, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His fingers linger just above my knees, sending chills through me as they move higher. When he reaches the inside of my thighs, his grip tightens slightly, making my breath hitch.

He holds my gaze as his thumbs brush back and forth in maddening strokes, hovering just shy of where I crave him most. Each movement is agonizingly slow, every pass stoking the fire until it’s nearly unbearable.

I keep my eyes on his as I lower my lips, inch by inch. It’s torturously slow, the anticipation crackling between us like electricity. When my lips finally brush against his, he moves to kiss me, but I pull back just enough to keep him out of reach. His grunt of frustration makes me grin, and I lower to his ear,flicking my tongue along the edge before taking his lobe into my mouth, sucking gently. He groans, his fingers digging into my thighs.

I trail kisses down his neck, grinding my pelvis against him in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The hard press of him beneath me sends a rush of heat coursing through me, and I gasp. His hands slide to my waist, gripping me firmly, guiding me, pressing me downward and shifting me back and forth.

“God,” I moan, tipping my head back as the sensation builds, the friction intoxicating. When I meet his gaze again, his eyes are blazing, and one hand slides up my body, rough and urgent, until it grips the back of my neck. He pulls me down to him, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s raw and all-consuming.

My hips move faster, the movement so perfect I can’t hold back the sounds spilling from my lips as shivers ripple through me. I never thought I could come from something so simple—not since high school, when the world was simpler, and pleasure felt new. But this is different. It’s deeper. It’s him. It’s us. And it feels so damn good that I don’t care.

He toys with my tongue, teasing and tasting, then captures my bottom lip with just enough pressure to leave me trembling. My hips move faster, desperate and instinctive, as if my body knows what it needs and refuses to stop until it gets it. The pressure swells inside me, relentless and consuming, building to an unbearable peak that has me teetering on the edge of control.

My hands slide over his chest, desperate to feel him, to ground myself in the solid reality of him. I’m tempted to pull back, to just look at him—admire the strength in his arms, the sharp definition of his abs—but this feels too good. And I don’t need to see him when feeling him is enough.

I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment as Ryan’s touch fills every part of me, pushing out the lingering shadows of my past. My heart swells with gratitude as the weight of the painloosens—Brad’s lies, the manipulation, the hollow intimacy, the loneliness even when I wasn’t alone. And not just Brad—the others too. The men who used me, who left me feeling small and powerless, as if I needed them to matter. As if I were worthless.

I shut the door on them—on all of it.

For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m trying to measure up to some impossible standard. With Ryan, there’s no shame, no fear of not being enough. There’s only this—a man who sees me, touches me, and cares for me exactly as I am.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I bite my lip, overwhelmed by the enormity of what I’m feeling. Because this man beneath me—holding me like I’m something precious—has changed me. His words echo in my mind, telling me I’m beautiful, that I’m strong, that I’m more than enough. I cling to those words, holding them close, and in that moment, I let go—of the guilt, the shame, and the blame I’ve carried for so long.

And for the first time, I let myself believe I am enough. That I deserve this. That I can be happy.

A tear slips down my cheek, and Ryan stills beneath me. I feel his eyes on me, his quiet concern.

But I keep my eyes closed.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, my voice shaky but certain, as I pick up my pace. His grip tightens around my waist, his breath uneven. The distant crash of waves blends with the pounding of my heartbeat. I feel his steady pulse beneath my fingertips, the warmth of his skin—the connection between us so vivid it blurs the line between where I end and he begins.

The rise of my climax sweeps through me, lifting me higher and higher until it explodes. I fall—hard. My body arches, my head whipping back toward the sky as a guttural moan tears from my throat. It’s more than just pleasure. It’s a release. Years of hurt, doubt, and the weight of everything I was never meant to carry burst free all at once.

The intensity consumes me, my body trembling as tears stream freely down my cheeks, unbidden and unstoppable. It feels so good—so raw and overwhelming—that a cry escapes my lips, equal parts ecstasy and catharsis. It’s almost too much—so powerful it leaves me slightly embarrassed by the sheer effect it has on me.

Slowly, the overwhelming sensation ebbs, and I come back down to earth, breathless, my chest rising and falling in time with the lingering waves of pleasure and relief.

I exhale and open my eyes, meeting Ryan’s gaze. His understanding and quiet devotion dissolve the last remnants of my vulnerability.

His lips curve into a devastatingly sexy smirk, his eyebrow cocking as his hand traces soft circles on my thigh. “That good, huh?” His voice is low, teasing, but his eyes search mine with sincerity. “Are you okay?”

A laugh escapes me, blended with the last remnants of my tears. I nod, smiling through the lingering emotion. “Yes. I’m more than okay. I’m great.”

He grins, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I don’t know what that was, babe, but it was sexy as hell to watch.” He pulls me into a kiss. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

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