Chapter 8. Come

Freya’s POV

Even with the years etched into him—fine lines at the corners of his eyes, silver at his temples—he looked younger than forty-three. Strong and vital. The body of a man who’d lived hard and stayed disciplined. Broad shoulders, thick arms corded with muscle, abs carved deep enough to cast shadows in the low light. That dangerous V dipping low toward his hips. His cock—still half-hard from the bathroom, thick and heavy—hung between his powerful thighs.

He was nothing like Dylan.

Dylan had been boyish. Pretty in a shallow way. Small and forgettable.

But Ryder?

Ryder looked like he could break me in half and make me thank him for it.

And I wanted him to.

He stepped closer. Pushed me gently backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. I fell onto the bed on my back, legs parting instinctively.

He crawled over me—slow, and predatory. The mattress dipped under his weight. Moonlight caught the silver in his hair, t