What I felt for Rye was wild and free, intense and crazy.

I heard the sound of a vehicle pulling in, and set my book aside to rise and go to the window. Over the last year I’d moved out of my father’s house, gotten my own little place, and continued to see Rye. I won’t say my father was exactly accepting right from the beginning, giving us his blessing as soon as we told him, but he knew I was happy. He knew I didn’t make rash decisions. He also knew Rye, the type of man he was, and he trusted him.

Things had definitely changed over the last year in my relationship with Rye. We were closer than I ever thought possible, and that was saying something, seeing as our relationship was far from conventional. He still ran guns illegally, was still that dangerous “criminal” that everyone feared. But he was honest and caring, genuine, and showed me love. He gave me affection, protected me, and made sure I was happy.

He didn’t hurt people, didn’t do things that purposefully put others in harm’s way, and at the end of the day we were just two people in a relationship. He might have been called an animal on the best of days, this feral creature that didn’t conform to society or follow rules. But he was my animal.

I grew wet and needy, my body wanting the things only Rye could give me. I watched as he left his SUV, the sun starting to set, the dusk causing him to be partially covered by light and darkness.

He came toward the house, and I stepped away from the window. My heart was thundering, my palms sweating. I wanted him, needed him, and all I’d seen was him getting out of the vehicle.

I was starting college again, another semester that would help me get my degree in business management. And although I was thick into my schoolwork, having Rye come over every night and making time to see me every day made all the stress worthwhile.

The moment I saw him standing there staring at me, the heat in his expression as he watched me told me he wanted me. This wasn’t just what our relationship was about. He didn’t just fuck me, make me come, scream out for more, and then take care of me afterward. He lavished me in affection, helped me with my studies, cooked for me, held me … loved me.

I lowered my gaze and saw how hard he was for me. He made this deep sound in his throat, and God, did that turn me on. Every erogenous zone in me heightened and screamed out to give in.

He came closer then, his eyes focused on me. I backed away, and when the wall stopped me, he leaned his face in close to me. I liked playing hard to get. I knew he liked it too.

“You see what you do to me?” He pressed his erection into my belly, and I moaned at the feeling. I shifted, trying to get closer.

He dragged his lips along my cheek. Not able to hold my eyes open, I let my head fall back against the door. Rye ground his dick into me again, over and over, until I found myself reaching up and holding on to his biceps for support. He was rock-hard and tense beneath my palms.

“Take me here, right now.”

“Fuck.” He groaned and pressed his entire length against me, making me see and feel that he was ready for me.

He moved his tongue along the shell of my ear, and I moaned. He pulled away only enough that he had his mouth close to mine once more.

Then his mouth was on mine, and he was running his tongue along my bottom lip. I heard his nails dig into the door. I opened my mouth, took his tongue between my lips, and sucked on it.

“I don’t want slow,” I moaned, not caring how needy I sounded.

“Good, because I wasn’t going to give it to you that way, baby.”

“I love you, Rye.”

He growled low. “I love you.”

The passion was real between us, and would never die. God, this was exactly what living was really like.