His gaze is so intense that it nearly takes my breath away. "What do you need?"

Rocking myself against him, I can't restrain my whimper. "I need this. You."

His fingers roughly shove down the waistband of my pants, setting me on my feet before he kneels down to remove them from around my ankles, baring me. Still crouched before me, his eyes slowly take me in, moving up, up, up, and stopping right there. At the apex of my thighs, the part of me that yearns for him the most.

Reaching up slowly, he moves to trace the crease of my entrance with his index finger, top to bottom, achingly slow, before suddenly sliding inside me. I gasp loudly, my head falling back against the wall. He works his finger in and out before adding another, and I note how easily they move, gliding through my wetness.

"I need you inside me." I don't care how needy I sound right now. If I don't have him pushing his hard cock inside me, if I don't feel him stretching me with his size, then I'm pretty certain I'll go insane.

His hazel eyes rise, holding my own while he slides his fingers out of me. Bringing them to his mouth, he slides them between his lips. His eyes fall closed at that moment, appearing to savor my taste on his fingers by sucking my essence off them. When his eyes find mine once again, he slowly rises, thumbs slipping beneath the waist of his pajama pants and shoving them down to kick them off to the side. He quickly rids himself of his plain cotton T-shirt, standing there before me in his full, naked glory. His cock is breathtaking, so thick and hard, jutting outward as if waiting for me to- "Have you always used a condom?" The words are out before I even think it through.

His eyes are watchful. "Always, Mags. I've never been with anyone unprotected."

That's the answer I wanted-needed. Dropping to my knees, I grasp him in my hand before my tongue darts out to lick the tip, tasting the drop of fluid there, reveling in the salty taste before sliding my lips over him. Using my hand, mouth, and tongue, I suck and slide over his length, feeling him grow harder inside my mouth. When his fingers tangle in my hair, I glance up to see him watching me, lids low, eyes hazy with heat, lips parted, breathing ragged. And it's then that I feel pride-an empowering pride-that I made him this way.

Even though it's the last time this will ever happen.

That thought elbows its way into my thoughts, but I try not to let it derail my intent. I feel as though his gaze locks with mine in a way that's compelling me not to look away. The connection we have right now, while I'm pleasuring him with my mouth, is so intense that every part of my body is tingling with awareness.

The moment his fingers tighten their grip on my hair, I know he's close. The instant he pulls away from me, away from my mouth, I feel a sense of loss. Before I can voice this, he scoops me up in his arms, and we hurriedly make our way down the hall to his bedroom. Setting me on the mattress, he joins me, his body hovering over mine, all the curves and sharp indentations of muscles flexing above me.

I'm operating on feeling alone, not necessarily thinking like I normally do but going along a more visceral route. Grasping his firm length in my hand, I brush his tip against my opening, coating him in my wetness. Watching him as I do this, the way he clenches his jaw tight and swallows hard, his eyes maintaining a laser-like focus on mine, encourages me.

The moment I press upward while guiding him to me, he tenses, stopping me.

"Mags."

There's a brief moment of silence as I wait for him to finish, watching him carefully.

"I have to get a c-"

He breaks off the moment I arch upward, pressing him into me. "No. Not this time." My eyes plead with his. "I'm on the Pill. Please. Just this once."

Don't ask me why I'm doing this, why I'm asking this of him when I've never done this before in my entire life. Not even Shane, who'd always insisted on wearing a condom because he'd wanted to "wait to take chances on starting a family." Who knew what a godsend that would be?

I've never been with a guy unprotected-never truly trusted anyone this much. But I trust Ry.

I don't want to admit why or delve into anything pertaining to it. All I know is that I need him inside me without any barriers.

I need to feel him.

One last time.

Chapter Forty-Two.

Ry Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-fuuuuuuck...

My attempt at counting by fives to try to keep myself under control is failing. Miserably. Being with Maggie like this, sliding inside her without a condom, is unbelievable. And it's making it so hard to maintain control and not come inside her wet heat within one and a quarter thrusts like a completely inexperienced prepubescent boy.

Sinking inside her, I hope-hell, I pray-that her request means something. Anything. It has to. As I slowly, gradually work myself deeper inside her, my eyes stay on hers, watching them nearly glow with heat. Finally sliding in as far as I can, I still.

"Mags," I whisper against her lips. With that one word, my thumb grazes the side of her face along her cheekbone, and I will her to see in my eyes what I'm silently professing.

I love you.

You're the one for me.

Please forgive me for lying to you.

Please love me back.

When she shifts beneath me slightly, making us both inhale sharply, it breaks the moment. Her hands glide over my shoulders, my chest, and down my stomach, my muscles contracting at her touch. One soft hand slides over my hip while the other traces lower, closer to where our bodies join. Lifting up to allow her more room to roam, I feel her finger trace down below my belly button, down to the base of my shaft that's slick from her. Carefully, achingly slow, I move out barely an inch before sliding back inside her as we both watch the movement.

My eyes dart up to see her face before returning; my eyes tracking my slow thrusts, noting the shiny slickness of my cock and the knowledge that it's her-it's my Maggie who's making my cock that wet-makes me grow even more impossibly hard.

"Faster, Ry," she whispers, her eyes rising to meet mine. At that moment, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her if she asked me.

Bracing myself, my hands on either side of her, I begin to thrust as deep as possible while simultaneously praying I won't come too early in the game because ... hell. The intensity of sensations, being inside her like this, feeling everything-the heat, tightness, the wetness-is nearly overwhelming. And I have to tell her.

"Mags, I-" My words cut off because, at that moment, she clenches around my cock, so impossibly tight, before the spasms begin and her inner muscles clench and release, clench and release. Her body arches, rosy nipples puckered, eyes closed as her head tips back on the pillow, lips parting.

It's right then and there that I know without a doubt I've never before witnessed anything in my entire life as decadently beautiful as this. As her.

Giving more powerful, deeper thrusts as she rides out her release, I feel the telltale tingling.

"Mags." My breathing is ragged, labored, and in the next second, I pull out of her, coming all over her stomach in strong spurts. I collapse beside her, my chest rising and falling.

"Promise I'll clean you off. As soon as my legs start working again."

She gives a huff of a laugh, turning her head to look at me. Shifting to face her, she's watching me with an odd expression.

"You didn't ..." She trails off before finishing with, "... come inside me."

My eyes flicker to her stomach, and instead of answering, I jump up, quickly heading to my bathroom for a damp washcloth. Returning to my bedroom, I carefully clean her stomach, speaking softly, my eyes focused on the task.

"I've never done this with anyone. And since it's the last time"-I break off with a slight shrug, still avoiding her gaze-"I didn't think it was smart to play with fire even more than we already were."

Tossing the damp cloth into my empty laundry bin, I climb into bed with Maggie, lying on my side and propping my head in my hand. My other hand traces along a random path, circling her breasts, her nipples, and down over her stomach, which she sucks in the moment I veer down over it.

My eyes dart up to hers, looking at her quizzically. She looks away, muttering, "My stomach isn't super awesome. I don't have abs like yours."

I give her a look. "Mags. If you had abs like mine, that would be weird."

"I have a one liter."

A laugh bursts free. "You do not have a one liter." Leaning closer, I press a soft kiss to the smooth skin of her stomach. "It's perfect." Raising my eyes to hers, I press another kiss. "Just like you."

She stares at me. "Well, doesn't Jack have pretty hard core abs?"

Shit. My eyes fall closed on a slight wince because, well, yeah, he does. Not that I've ever touched his abs. That's just disgusting.

Damn it, I need to come clean. This can't go on.

"I need to talk to you about Jack. I-"

She presses an index finger to my lips, stopping me. "No. You don't owe me any explanation, Ry." Her finger traces over my lips. "I know you'll likely get back together with him, and I understand that."

"But Mags-"

"Ry." The tenderness in both her eyes and tone has me faltering. "Please. Let it be just about us."

Knowing I'm unable to deny her anything, when she reaches for me, pressing her lips to mine in what has to be the sweetest kiss, I make it a point to give this my all.

Go big or go home, right? Well, I'm going to go big-go all out-and give this everything I have. Even though I can see it in her eyes; I can tell that this is it. This is all she's going to give me.

I love her throughout the day and into the night until we're both too exhausted to move, curling up beneath the covers. I watch her sleep, knowing this is the last time I'll get to witness her in my bed like this, before finally giving in to the tiredness and falling asleep with her in my arms.

And in the early morning light of dawn, when I feel the quiet, discreet shifting movement, I force myself to keep my eyes closed. I can't bear to see her tiptoe out of my bedroom like I was some sketchy one-night stand she's already regretting. I can't bear to watch her leave me.

Taking my damn heart right along with her.

Chapter Forty-Three.

Maggie "You're a horrible person. Don't even look in the mirror because it'll crack."

If you think that's an awful thing to say to someone, I'd agree with you ... at any other time. Right now? Not so much.

Because I'm the person saying it. To myself.

Have you ever done something where you're like, Wow. I actually did that. That was so unlike me. And then you get this huge smile on your face that feels like it stretches for miles and miles, it's so wide. While at the same time you're like, Whoa, you dirty girl, you! What the hell were you thinking?

That's what I'm feeling. Because let's face it. We've all been in that situation where we do something we aren't super proud of. Like the one time in college, I went down on this super-hot guy just because I was feeling insecure and desperately wanted him to like me.

Yeah, I know. Stupid doesn't cover that, let alone degrading. Don't judge. We all do crap that's sketchy at some point in our lives. Alllll of us.

Except that right now, I'm fully judging myself. Because I had sex with my roommate-again-and with no protection. I mean, sure, he pulled out and everything-every single time-but ...

Okay, so here's the thing. Each time he did that, I felt kind of deflated. Like he was holding back from me. Which is ridiculous since I'm the one who told him it was the last time that it could happen between us.

And now, while I stare at the steamed-up mirror, standing on my plush bathroom mat with my towel wrapped around me, I know the second I move or shift in any way, I'll feel that soreness between my legs. From him. Because last night was ...

My forehead thunks against the mirror. "Phenomenal." Thunk. "Hot as hell." Thunk. "Heartbreaking." Thunk.

Wait, what? Heartbreaking? My eyes fly open as I straighten, frantically scrubbing at the steam in the mirror until I can make out my face. The truth is there in my eyes. Heck, it's written all over my face.

It's a good thing I said that last night was it. The last hurrah. Because I know what it would lead to. Me ending up madly in love with Ry. Ry leaving me to be with Jack again. God, it's like some cheesy soap opera.

Staring back at my reflection, I inhale a deep breath, holding it for a second before letting it out slowly in an attempt to calm myself. To assuage the panic pulsing through my veins.

"You will move on from this. Store it in the recesses of your memories. But you have to move on and find someone right. Someone who will love you and give you what you need." I say this so confidently to my own reflection that it's almost believable.

Almost.

You know that acronym FML? People toss that around online, and I always felt put off by it. I mean, really. Your life can't possibly be that bad, right? To the point where you actually say, Fuck my life?

All the scoffing I've done at people who have posted that? I take it back. Alllllll of it. I take it all back. Why? Oh, I'll tell you why.

Right now. Right here. That's why.

"So tell me more about how you place your bets, Simon," Ry gushes, leaning closer to the guy I was talking with not but five minutes ago.

And, no, I'm not exaggerating. He's gushing. It's a puke fest. I know, I know. Cue the My heart bleeds for you violins, right? But seriously. He's clam jamming me.

Again.

For the third time this week. The third!

First, I met Tucker when I was riding the elevator to work on Monday. He had been dropping off some files to the offices on a different floor. He was a super-cute guy who worked in marketing and had the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen on a guy.

Of course, when we made plans to meet up on Tuesday, Ry miraculously decided to pop in to the same bar after work and began chatting up Tucker. I excused myself to use the restroom, trying to give myself a pep talk, regroup, and figure out how to bring things back my way, but when I came back out, I found the two of them missing. Two seconds later, I got a text message from Ry.

Ry: Hey, Mags. Sorry, but Tucker insisted I see him home. Be careful getting home. I shouldn't be gone too long. Love you.

Seems sweet, right? He had just met Tucker and was helping his new friend home because he'd had too much to drink.

Except for one problem: Tucker hadn't been drinking alcohol. He had told me initially that he wasn't drinking and was doing some sort of cleanse where he abstained from alcohol and caffeine.

Yep. So that could only mean one thing. Tucker was interested in Ry and vice versa.

Sure didn't take long for Ry to jump back in the saddle after our little- Crap! Don't go there, Maggie.

Moving on ... Then, there was guy number two. Max. I've always liked that name. There's just something sexy about it. I ran into him-literally-at the coffee shop when I was leaving after one of my and Sarah's coffee dates. I was talking to her over my shoulder, exiting the shop, and totally not looking where I was going and bam! into a brick wall.

Of manliness.