Page 100 of One Spicy Summer

He curses, voice breaking and reaches around to rub tight circles over my clit. That’s it, I shatter around him, crying out his name like a prayer. He follows me a second later, hips stuttering, groaning my name into my skin as he comes hard, deep inside me.

For a while, we just stand there, pressed together, sweaty and trembling, trying to breathe.

Finally, he kisses my shoulder and whispers, "You’re mine, Presley. You hear me?"

"Always," I whisper back, not even thinking, justknowing.

Rygaard stays inside me for a moment longer, like he can’t bear to let go. Then, with a soft groan, he pulls out and catches me before I can collapse against the door. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you.” His voice is low, wrecked and tender.

He scoops me up like I weigh nothing, carrying me through the house.Every step jostles me, sore and overstimulated, but tucked against his chest, I feel... protected. Cherished.

He nudges open his bedroom door with his foot and lays me down on the bed like I am something breakable.The loss of his warmth makes me whimper.

Rygaard brushes sweaty hair off my forehead, pressing a kiss there. “I’m gonna clean you up, okay, baby?” I nod, too blissed out to speak.

He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the sink running. A minute later, he comes back with a warm, damp towel.

The gentleness he handles me with makes my chest ache.

He cleans between my thighs with slow, careful strokes, murmuring soft apologies when I flinch.

“You’re perfect," he whispers. "So fucking perfect."

When he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and climbs into bed beside me, pulling me into his arms.

I curl into him without thinking, tucking my face against his throat.His skin is still damp with sweat, his heartbeat a hard, steady thump under my palm.

He kisses the top of my head, his hand running up and down my spine in slow, soothing strokes.

We stay like that, tangled together, skin on skin, hearts still racing.

“You okay?” he asks after a while, voice rough.

I lift my head just enough to meet his eyes. The raw tenderness there nearly undoes me all over again. “I’m better than okay,” I whisper, smiling sleepily. “I’m yours.”

His whole body shudders like I’d just tore him apart in the best way.He drags me closer, his forehead pressing to mine.

“Mine,” he echoes. “Always.”

Chapter Forty

Presley

Ry’s words echo inside my head like he’s standing right here. He seemed to think it was only a matter of time before Keifer fucks up.

"Fucked up? He fucked up the day he tried to kill me, and didn’t." I mutter under my breath, kneading the dough like it's my own personal punching bag. "I’ll never be that helpless again."

Why?

Because I signed up for defense classes.

Because my therapist and substance abuse counselor said it would help.

Because I swore I'd never let anyone do to me what Keifer did.Because I deserve better.

"Yeah, well, fuck that, because it won’t happen again!" I shout, punching the dough harder, smiling as it deflates under my fists.

"Excuse me, what did that poor dough ever do to you?" Rygaard’s voice cuts through my haze, warm and teasing. I don't turn around, I just keep punching, picturing Keifer's face under my fists.

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