Chapter 55

The moment our lips touch feels like the first rainfall on the parched desert. Electricity crackles between us and every atom in my body vibrates with intensity as his kisses turn heated, his lips licking and sucking mine like he's desperate for me just as I am for him. He groans and hauls me closer, one hand clutching the nape of my neck, his fingers digging into my skin just the way I like it, the other hand curling around my waist.

"Ryland," I moan as we part for air, our breaths mingling in the tiny slither of space between us.

"Fuck, I've missed you. So fucking much."

He swoops down for another soul-shattering kiss. I lean closer so I'm flush against him, all hard muscles and restrained power.

He growls when I move my body over his, grinding against the erection tenting his pants. He dips out his tongue, teasing the seam of my lips before thrusting in.

The world swirls around me, my skin heating like I'm in the throes of a fever. Every inch of me is sensitive, craving his touch, and there are far too many clothes between us.

Ryland deepens his kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth as mine duels with his, every inch his equal. My teeth make an appearance as I bite down on his bottom lip and he lets out a hiss of pleasure.

"Not enough," he rasps, "not enough."

Without another word, he swoops me up in his arms and stomps toward the entrance, taking us inside.

I vaguely notice the towering glass ceilings letting in rays of light, the kaleidoscope of warm reds, oranges, and pinks of the sunset streaming indoors, bathing the lush foliage in an otherworldly glow.

Tearing my lips away briefly, my mouth drops open at the rows and rows of carefully curated plants on various planters, trellises—there are trees of all sizes, ropes of vines arranged in artful, yet natural displays.

And the flowers, oh my God, the flowers—I see a room to the side dedicated to orchids, areas where the ethereal lavender-colored wisteria hangs from the ceiling, a scene straight out of a fairytale. Then, there are the unique orange and reds of the birds of paradise, roses, peonies, and so many more blooms I can't wait to examine and name.

My eyes well with moisture as I behold the breathtaking beauty around me and I turn back to the man who has barged into my heart like a whirlwind and has made a permanent home there.

His dark eyes glitter, and he whispers, "Nothing here is as beautiful and as precious as you."

My heart soars to the skies, and my heart burgeons in size.

I hurl myself at him and kiss him until I can't tell where he ends and where I begin. His breathing turns harried, and he carries me somewhere, but it can be anywhere for all I care. He sheds his clothing on the floor and we're a mad tangle of limbs and passion as we come together, needing each other more than anything else in the world.

Soon, I find myself naked, my arms twining over his shoulders as pleasure shoots down to my core when he rakes his teeth down the tender column of my neck. Every pinch from his bites is followed by a heated suction and a tortuous lick. Wetness seeps out between my thighs and I curl my legs tighter around his ass, angling my clit to rub against every hard ridge of his cock.

"Fuuuck," he grunts.

Setting me down on a settee, his mouth travels down to my breasts and takes one beaded nipple between his lips, suckling it, laving it, making love to it.

I moan and I arch my back. My eyes snag on the familiar yellow daffodils and the beautiful purple pasque flowers in the surrounding displays, and I realize he's making love to me amongst the things I hold dearly in my heart.

"Ryland, I need you."

I grip his hair and pull him up, but he growls and moves his attention to the other nipple, his hands traveling between our bodies and palming my wet pussy.

My cries of pleasure echo in the glass halls. "Please, please fuck me, Ryland. Please. I need you so much."

"No," he grunts before thrusting two fingers inside my tight channel and I nearly careen off the seat. "Fuck, you're so wet for me. I've missed this so fucking much."

He doubles down and rubs my clit with his thumb—light flickers and firm circles—and the shards of pleasure gather in my core at the speed of light.

It's been too long and I'm too primed for him. I can't hold on.

My legs shake under him as he moves his fingers harder, angling them just right, so they hit my G-spot with every pass.

"Please," I beg, "I want you inside me. I want you to fuck the living daylights out of me."

His cock hardens even more, and he lets out an animalistic growl. "My dirty girl, my little lark."

He takes his fingers out and slides them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them like he's tasting the most delicious delicacy in the world. More slickness seeps out of me, and I feel my pussy throbbing, my body needing the barest friction to topple over the cliff.

Ryland leans down, his eyes so dark they're almost black, and he rasps, "I'm not fucking you today. I'm making love to you, my sweet little lark, because I love you so fucking much."

With that, he slides his cock inside me to the hilt and I let out a long mewl.

He intertwines his fingers with mine and stares at me while he moves, his thrusts alternating between deep, slow gyrations to quick parries. My eyes fall shut as the pleasure builds to an unbearable point.

"Keep them open. Keep your eyes on me. I want to see you come apart in my arms."

Ryland's breathing is heavy in the air and the wet sounds of our bodies coming together are lurid, but I don't care.

My lips part as I meet him thrust after thrust, the smacking sounds inflaming my senses. I tremble underneath him, my body so desperate for release I can practically scream.

"Yes, your pussy is squeezing me so tightly. Ah fuuuck, this is so good." He pumps faster, his fingers clutching mine harder.

It's a merging of souls, our hearts beating and soaring in unison.

"I love you, Millie Callahan. I love you so much." He angles his hard cock so it rubs against my clit. The pressure breaks, and I tumble into oblivion.

"Ryland!" I scream, my legs uncurling from his ass, my body shaking as my body breaks apart into a thousand pieces while he moves harder, his cock grinding against my G-spot, prolonging my orgasm into endless waves.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. "Yes, fuck yes. I'm going to come so hard into your tight pussy."

A few seconds later, a guttural roar rips out from his mouth and a burst of warmth floods my insides. His cock unloads streams of cum in rapid spurts, the hot liquid unleashing another surprise orgasm from me as I fall into the abyss of pleasure once more.

"I love you, Ryland," I sob, my body fluttering against him, our movements softening, our hearts slowing, and we come down from our high.

Sweat glistens on our skin. My pussy is sore in the most delicious way. He settles himself on top of me but props his weight up on his arms so he's not too heavy.

Ryland gazes at me, his skin flushed from exertion.

But his eyes, his brilliant slate-gray eyes, are spilling with love and warmth. He looks at me with such reverence, I can get lost in his gaze forever.

"You're my love, Millie, my forever. I've been yours since the moment our hearts collided."

With that, he presses his lips on mine once more, sealing his vows with each kiss, each touch, and each breath.

He holds me tightly in his arms after we make love three more times, once in the hallway when we return to his apartment at The Orchid, another time in the shower, where he teaches me how useful the jets can be, and in his bed, when he twists me like a pretzel and has his way with me.

After taking care of business in the bathroom and donning one of his oversized shirts, I take out a pad of paper and a pen from his nightstand. Perhaps it's a habit or a way for me to document my feelings at the end of each day, but I climb onto the bed and uncap the pen to prepare to scribble another letter.

"May I?" Ryland asks from my side, a teasing grin on his lips.

My heart skips a beat at his genuine smile, one no longer holding the bittersweet sentiments I saw when he was standing in the rain two years ago outside the classroom, staring into the stormy skies.

I hand him the paper and the pen.

His brows furrow in concentration as he angles the notepad away from my line of sight and begins writing. The pen scrapes against the paper in a soothing rhythm. He pauses and gnaws his bottom lip, his eyes darting to my face for a beat before he smiles and resumes scribbling.

A few minutes later, he hands me the notepad, and I read.

Dear Mrs. Callahan,

My name is Ryland Anderson, and I'm the man who loves your daughter very, very much. I believe she has told you about me before. Thank you for giving birth to such a wonderful woman with a beautiful, pure heart. Thank you for setting her in my path and allowing us to meet.

She told me how you once described true love as a whirlwind.

Perhaps that's true.

But I believe my love for her far exceeds the transient wind. My love for her is an ocean—bottomless and deep, strong and enduring.

If you are looking down from above, please don't worry about her anymore, because I will be by her side and I will look after her.

I love her, now and forever.

Eternally grateful, Ryland

A lone tear slips from my eye and I set down the letter, wishing Mom were here and could meet this wonderful man by my side.

He shares a bittersweet smile, no doubt thinking of his own mother, and I curl myself into the crook of his shoulder and close my eyes, listening to the reassuring thumps of his heart.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Strong and enduring.