CHAPTER 17: CHAPTER 17 UNEXPECTED SURRENDER

Serena’s POV

I jolted awake at the distinct sensation of being watched.

There he was—Ryan—looming over my bed, his hand suspended inches from my face.

"What the hell are you doing?"I hissed, clutching the thin sheet to my chest.

He didn’t answer.

But then I really looked at him—his dilated pupils, the fine sheen of sweat glistening on his bare chest, the unmistakable bulge straining against his boxers.

Recognition hit me instantly.

"Shit," I muttered. "She drugged you."

Evelyn’s innocent "fertility tonic" suddenly made perfect sense. The old witch hadn’t given up on getting her great-grandchildren after all. She’d resorted to pharmaceutical intervention.

"You need to go back to the study," I said firmly, keeping the sheet between us as a barrier. "Right now, Ryan."

Instead of retreating, he sank onto the edge of my bed, his weight creating a dip that rolled me slightly toward him. The proximity sent an unwelcome jolt of awareness through my body.

"I can’t think straight," he admitted, his gaze dropping to my lips. "Everything’s burning."

"That’s because your grandmother slipped you an aphrodisiac, you idiot."

Despite the danger of the situation, I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice. "Three years of marriage, and she has to drug you to get you into my bed. Ironic, isn’t it?"

Ryan’s hand found my ankle beneath the sheet, and even that innocent touch sent electricity racing up my leg. "I need you, Serena."

"No, you need someone," I corrected him, trying to ignore the heat building in my core. "It’s the drug talking, not you."

His fingers traced a slow path up my calf, and when his fingers found the damp evidence of my arousal, he groaned triumphantly."You still want to pretend you don’t want this?"

"Yes," I warned, though my voice lacked conviction. "You made your choice every single night for three years when you turned your back to me."

"Liar," he accused, voice rough with desire.

"This is wrong," I whispered, even as my treacherous body arched toward him. "We’re divorced. This isn’t real."

His lips brushed against my neck, and I couldn’t suppress the small gasp that escaped me.

"This feels real," he murmured against my skin. "You still respond to me, Serena. Your body remembers mine."

I should have said it. Should have pushed him away. But three years of rejection and longing made me hesitate just long enough for him to lower his head and brush his lips against mine.

The contact was electric. My hands flew to his chest, intending to push him away, but instead curled against the hard planes of muscle there.

"Stop," I whispered unconvincingly as his mouth traveled down my neck.

"Your mouth says stop," he murmured against my skin, "but your body is begging me for more."

The possessive declaration should have infuriated me. Instead, it sent another wave of heat through my body.

"I hate you," I whispered as he lowered his head to my breast.

"I know," he acknowledged, his palm hot against my thigh. "Hate me tomorrow. Need me tonight."

"This doesn’t change anything,"I should have stopped him.

Should have remembered all the nights I’d cried myself to sleep, desperate for the very attention he was now lavishing on me.

But my resistance crumbled beneath his touch as he cupped my breasts, thumbs circling my hardened nipples with practiced precision.

"I won’t be Sophie’s replacement," I warned, the words puncturing the heated moment.

His response was to lower his head, taking one sensitive peak into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue sent shockwaves through me, and I couldn’t contain the moan that escaped my lips.

"Not another word about the past," Ryan commanded, his voice rough with desire as he shifted between my thighs. "Tonight, you’re mine again."

"I’m not yours," I protested weakly, gasping as his fingers found the dampness between my legs. "I’ll never be yours again."

The smirk that curved his lips was dangerous, predatory. "Your body disagrees."

I wanted to argue, to maintain some semblance of dignity, but when his thumb circled my most sensitive spot, all coherent thought fled.

My hips bucked involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure only he could provide.

"That’s it, baby," he encouraged, sliding one finger inside me, then another. "Let me make you feel good."

The endearment - something he’d never used during our marriage - struck a chord somewhere deep inside me.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotional pain mingling with physical pleasure in a confusing, overwhelming cocktail.

"Don’t cry," Ryan murmured, his free hand brushing a tear from my cheek. "I’ll take care of you."

Without warning, he moved down my body, replacing his fingers with his mouth in one swift motion.

The sensation of his tongue against my core tore a strangled cry from my throat.

This, too, was something he’d rarely done during our marriage. Now he devoured me like a man starved, his hands gripping my thighs to keep them spread wide for his assault.

"Ryan," I gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as pleasure built to unbearable heights. "Please..."

He looked up the length of my body, his eyes dark with possession. "Say it again. My name."

"Ryan," I repeated, past caring about pride or pretense. "Don’t stop."

His answering smile was triumphant as he returned to his task, tongue and fingers working in tandem until I shattered, back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over me.

Before I could recover, he was positioning himself above me, the hard length of him pressing insistently against my entrance. For one brief moment, sanity returned.

"Wait," I gasped. "Protection."

Ryan paused, the muscles in his arms trembling with restraint. "Do you have anything?"

I shook my head. "No, but we can’t risk—"

"I’m clean," he cut me off. "And you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then let me feel you," he demanded, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that always sent shivers down my spine. "Just this once. No barriers between us."

The recklessness of it appealed to some primal part of me. One night of foolishness couldn’t undo all the caution of the past years, could it?

Before I could overthink it, I nodded once, and Ryan needed no further invitation. He pushed forward in one powerful thrust, filling me completely.

"Fuck," he growled, forehead pressed against mine as he remained perfectly still. "So tight. So perfect."

The familiar fullness coupled with the unfamiliar intensity of his desire overwhelmed me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

"Move," I commanded, and for once, Ryan Blackwood obeyed without question.

His hips established a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving me further into the mattress.

This wasn’t the mechanical fulfillment of marital duty I remembered. This was primal, desperate - a claiming.

"Mine," he growled against my ear, his pace increasing. "Always mine."

I should have corrected him, should have maintained the boundaries between us. Instead, I surrendered to the moment, nails scratching down his back as pleasure built once more.

"Ryan," I cried out as my second climax approached, stronger than the first. "God, yes!"

His rhythm faltered, becoming erratic as he neared his own release. "Come with me, Serena," he demanded, one hand slipping between our joined bodies to circle my sensitive bud. "Let me feel you."

The dual stimulation pushed me over the edge. I came with his name on my lips, inner muscles clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed through me.

With a guttural groan, Ryan followed, burying himself deep inside me as his release claimed him. I felt the hot pulse of him, marking me from within in the most primitive way possible.

For several long moments, we remained locked together, bodies trembling with aftershocks, breath mingling in the small space between us.

Reality hovered just beyond the edges of this stolen moment, waiting to rush back in.

As the fog of desire began to lift from Ryan’s eyes, I braced myself—for regret, for awkwardness, for anything that might come next.

But before any of it arrived, fatigue crashed over me, the emotional and physical toll of the night dragging me toward unconsciousness.

The last thing I remembered was Ryan pulling me gently against his chest, his steady heartbeat thrumming beneath my cheek as the darkness closed in.

Tomorrow’s regrets could wait.

Tonight, I would allow myself this one weakness.