Chapter 13

He didn’t wait. He scooped me up, my legs locking around his waist instinctively, and carried me down the hallway toward the bedroom. His steps were heavy, purposeful. He kicked the bedroom door open and dropped me onto the mattress, but he didn’t let go—he followed me down, his massive body pinning mine into the sheets.

“You have no idea what you’ve started, Haven,” he growled against my lips, his hands already working at my sweater, pulling it up and over my head in one fluid motion.

When his skin finally met mine, I nearly lost my mind. He was all heat and hard muscle. His hands roamed over me like he was memorizing every curve, every inch of my skin, before his mouth found my breasts, his teeth grazing my nipples until I was arching off the bed, sobbing his name.

“Ryder, please,”

“Please what, Haven?” he murmured against my skin, his voice a dark rumble that made my insides melt. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

I couldn’t even find the words. My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, my hips already tilting upward as if searching for him. He knew. He always knew. His hand slid down my stomach, his fingers brushing the waistband of my jeans before he gripped the denim and tugged them down my legs with a rough impatience.

“You’re so beautiful,” he rasped, his eyes roaming over me like he was seeing me for the first time and the thousandth time all at once. “My beautiful mate.”

He stripped out of his own clothes with a frantic speed that left me breathless, and when he pressed back down onto me, skin to skin, I felt like I was going to combust.

His weight was staggering, a solid mass of heat that seemed to press the very air from my lungs, but I didn’t want him to move. I wanted more. I wanted all of him. My legs hooked around his waist, pulling him flush against me until there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between us.

“Ryder,” I whimpered, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back, feeling the ridge of his spine beneath my palms. “Now. Please.”

He let out a low, feral sound—something between a growl and a plea—and positioned himself between my thighs. His hands slid under my hips, lifting me just enough, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made me feel completely exposed.

“I’m going to be gentle,” he promised, though his voice sounded anything but gentle. “But I’m not stopping.”

He entered me in one slow, deliberate push. I gasped, my back arching off the mattress as a sharp, searing fullness bloomed deep inside me. It was too much—too big, too hot—and for a second, my breath hitched in my throat.

“Look at me, Haven,” he commanded, his voice thick and strained. He stayed still, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back, his eyes searching mine. “Stay with me.”

“It hurts a little,” I confessed, my fingers clutching his forearms so hard my knuckles turned white.

“I know,” he rasped, leaning down to press his forehead against mine. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

He waited until my breathing evened out, until the sharp sting faded into a heavy, pulsing ache. Then, he began to move. Slow at first, testing me, each thrust drawing a ragged sound from my throat.

The rhythm built steadily, his hips driving into mine with a deliberate pace that made my head toss back against the pillow. Each time he pushed deeper, a new wave of heat rolled through my gut, turning that initial ache into something much more demanding.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and low. He leaned down, kissing the hollow of my throat right above my mark, his stubble scraping deliciously against my skin. “So tight for me, Haven. God.”

I couldn’t help it—a small, broken sound escaped my lips as the friction intensified. My hips began to move with him, meeting his thrusts instinctively. The more we moved, the more the control he’d been promising slipped away. His breathing became ragged, his movements turning heavier, more urgent.

“Ryder,”