I stand in front of the door with my hand over my chest and my mouth dropped open.
Ryder.
This has to be a fantasy, right?
It's definitely not real, it's a dream.
He lets out an impatient sigh that lets me know that he is very much real.
The man of my wetdream is standing in my hallway, dark eyes locked on mine like he already owns me.
And he does.
My look becomes a worry to me as I look down at myself, my nightgown is thin and clinging to my damp skin.
My n*****s hard and pushing against the fabric, my thighs are still slick from what I was just doing.
The air between us feels thick, charged, like one spark is waiting to set the whole apartment on fire.
He doesn't smile, he just looks at me.
His eyes assess me, moving slow, deliberately taking in my appearance, from my flushed
