This started as just something convenient between the two of you, but now some annoying, squirming part of Ryder wants more. He always wants more— it ruins more things than he’d like.

“You smell,” He grins against the back of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your chest as the two of you lay beneath the stiff hotel blankets. “Like me.” His voice rasps softly from overuse, and his lips brush against your shoulder softly.

Ryder’s addicted. So addicted, something he’s never felt before with another person, but you somehow make him feel different.

“Can we talk?”