You know, we did a pretty poor job cleaning you up.

You know, we did a pretty poor job cleaning you up.

Amara's POV

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Go clean up, sweetheart.... We'll explain everything when you come back," Ryder said, his jaw tense.

Caden pulled me to my feet, and then Ryder was lifting me into his arms, carrying me into the bathroom.

"Ryder, please tell me what's going on," I said.

"Not right now, sweetheart," he murmured, setting me on the counter.

"Are they okay?" I asked.

His fingers found the nape of my neck, his forehead resting against mine. "It's not about us."

"What is it?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "Later, sweetheart. I promise."

I took a slow breath, trying to quell the fear.

"It's okay," he whispered, his hand sliding down my back.

I leaned into him, his touch calming, comforting.

"What's wrong with me?" I whispered.

His grip tightened. "There's nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. Trust me."

"It feels like there is."

"That's the bond," he murmured, his hand drifting up my spine. "It's getting stronger, and it's messing with your emotions.”

"You said the bond was a myth," I reminded him.

"I thought it was," he said softly. "I've never heard of anyone with a real connection like this."

I exhaled shakily, and his arms slipped around me, his embrace gentle, soothing.

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" he murmured.

“Okay," I whispered.

He hummed, his fingers trailing over my hip, dipping between my thighs.

I shivered.

"Easy, sweetheart," he murmured, his hands gentle, his touch teasing.

"Ryder," I breathed, my legs parting, giving him better access.

He groaned. "Damn, you're a mess.”

I flushed.

He laughed. "I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart."

"Sure," I mumbled, my cheeks heating.

"You know, we did a pretty poor job cleaning you up," he murmured.

"Huh?"

"Let me help."

I gasped, his words making my skin prickle, heat flooding through me.

"Shit, sweetheart. You're not going to last long, are you?"

I whimpered.

His thumb pressed against the most sensitive part of me, and the whimper turned into a gasp.
"You're lucky, sweetheart. I think you can handle it."

"Ryder," I groaned.

His hand slipped between my thighs, and then his mouth found mine, his tongue tracing over the seam of my lips, coaxing me to open for him.

His fingers curled inside me, and I gasped.
"Shhh, sweetheart," he whispered, his lips brushing over my jaw. "If you make too much noise, they'll hear you."

"Shit," I gasped, his words making my whole body ache.

"You like that," he murmured, his teeth grazing over my neck.

"Ryder, please," I whimpered, his hand working me, his touch driving me crazy.

"Fuck, Amara. Don't say things like that."

"Please, Ryder," I begged.

His fingers slid out, and then his mouth was on me, his tongue slipping between my folds, finding the most sensitive parts of me, driving me wild.

My legs fell open, and his hand gripped my thigh, pulling me closer.

"Fucking hell," he growled, his teeth grazing over the tender flesh.

"Please, please, please," I whispered.

He laughed.

"Stop torturing me," I pleaded.

"Oh, I don't think so, sweetheart," he said, his mouth returning to me.

"Ryder," I cried.

His thumb slid over me, and the pressure inside me built, hot and aching.

"Ryder, please," I whispered.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he murmured.

"You know what," I managed.

He chuckled. "Oh, I think you'll have to be more specific."

"I need you," I breathed.

"Where, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Inside me," I whispered.

He groaned. "Shit, Amara."

He didn't make me wait. His hands found my waist, and then he was pulling me toward him, his grip tightening.

I whimpered.

"Come here, sweetheart," he growled, his voice rough.

He lifted me, and my legs wrapped around him, and then he was pushing into me, filling me, stretching me, until I couldn't take anymore.
He exhaled heavily, his head dropping back, his eyes screwed shut.

"Ryder," I whimpered.

His eyes opened, his gaze finding mine.
He took a deep breath, his arms tightening around me.

And then he started moving, slow at first, his eyes holding mine, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

I gripped his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin.

"Fuck," he growled.

My head fell back, and he buried his face in my neck, his hips picking up the pace, his hands sliding down my back, cupping my ass, lifting me up.

"Shit," he groaned.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I gasped, my nails biting into his skin.

He laughed, the sound low and husky.

"You're not going to last," he murmured.

I whimpered.

"Amara," he growled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips, lifting me, pushing me back down, his pace frantic, desperate.

I cried out, the pressure building, hot and sharp, and then I was falling, trembling, shaking.

"Jesus Christ, Amara," he whispered, his voice rough.

His eyes held mine, his hips bucking, his grip tightening, and then his jaw clenched, his teeth scraping over my collarbone, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his body stiffening, his head dropping forward.

"Fuck," he managed, his arms tightening around me.

The pressure faded, leaving me limp and shaking.

"Damn, sweetheart," he said, his lips brushing over my forehead.

"Shit," I mumbled.

He chuckled, his arms curling around me, holding me close.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, his voice soft.

"Again?" I asked.

"We'll save the shower for tomorrow," he said, his lips finding mine
.
He reached behind me, and water splashed over us, rinsing away the mess we'd made.

"You're a mess, sweetheart," he murmured, his eyes twinkling.

I blushed.

"No need to be embarrassed, Amara. We've spent hours working you up. This is what happens," he said, his voice low.

I bit my lip.

He smiled, his hands drifting over my shoulders.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered.

He shut off the water, and then his arms were around me again, and he was lifting me, wrapping a towel around me.

"You're going to need a new shirt," he said, his lips curving.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

He laughed, his gaze raking over me.

"Don't be," he said, his lips brushing over my cheek.

I sighed, leaning into him.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he murmured, lifting me into his arms.

He carried me back into the bedroom, and Caden and Jaxon were still there, waiting for us.

Caden's eyes drifted over me, his gaze lingering, dark and intense.

Jaxon grinned, his eyes flashing with mischief.

"Told you," Ryder murmured.

Caden laughed.

Ryder's lips brushed over my cheek, and then he was setting me down.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

"Clothes," I said.

"You can wear mine," he said, reaching for a bag near the bed.

I took it, and they waited, their eyes on me.

I flushed, turning away, pulling on the clothes he'd brought.

"You're beautiful," Jaxon said.

"Even better than before," Caden said.

"I can't take any credit for that," Ryder said.

Jaxon smiled.

Caden didn't.