His eyes darken immediately, that heat instantly sparking between us. "Fuck, Mia. I like this idea already."
"Good." I stand up, tugging him with me. "Because I have a surprise for you."
"Mia—"
"Trust me." I press a quick kiss to his lips, tasting beer and those peanuts I watched him toss into his mouth. "You're going to love this."
Fifteen minutes and several creative excuses for a quick escape later, we're standing outside the Iron Ridge Spa & Hotel. It's thefanciest place in town, all stone and timber architecture with warm light spilling from every window.
"Mia," Ryder says slowly, staring up at the building. "What are we doing here?"
"Well," I pull out my phone, showing him the confirmation email I booked while he was saying goodbye to the team. "I thought it was my turn to do something special. Something for you."
His eyes widen as he reads the screen. "You booked us a room? Here?!"
"Thehoneymoonsuite, actually." I grin at his shocked expression. "Because apparently I have champagne-fueled decision-making skills tonight."
"Thehoneymoon suite?" His voice cracks just like it used to back in the day, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
"Yeah,babe.Complete with jacuzzi, fireplace, and chocolate-covered strawberries." I step closer, letting my breasts brush against his chest. "Consider it my way of saying thank you. For tonight. For everything."
Ryder's hands find my waist, pulling me closer as snow falls around us. "Mia, you don't have to thank me for—"
"I know I don't have to." I reach up to trace the line of his jaw, loving the way his eyes flutter closed at the contact. "I just… wantyou."
I trail my fingers down his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath my touch. My hand drifts lower, slowly, deliberately, until I'm cupping his crotch through his jeans.
He's already hard, straining against the fabric, wanting me as much as I want him.
"Mmmm… Are you ready?"
"Jesus," he breathes. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Oh, I'm just getting started." I lean up to whisper in his ear, letting my lips brush the sensitive skin just below, giving his cockanother squeeze. "I might even wear those little black panties you used to love so much."
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a grimace, and when he looks at me again, his eyes are darker than they were the other night.
"Those panties," he says, his voice rough with desire. "The lacy ones with the—"
"Yep." I pop my lips. "The golden heart. Those are the ones."
"Christ, Mia." His hands tighten on my waist. "How are you even more perfect than I remembered?"
I laugh, pulling back to look at him. This gorgeous, wonderful man who's somehow mine again.
"Come on, let's go check in before—"
"Wait." He stops me with a grin that's pure mischief. "Those panties. The black lacy ones you're talking about. How old are those exactly?"
I freeze. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," his grin widens, "we're talking about lingerie from eight years ago, babe. That's like... vintage underwear at this point."
Heat floods my cheeks. "Oh my God. Shut up."
"I'm just saying," he continues, clearly enjoying my embarrassment, "if you still have underwear from high school, maybe we should discuss your questionable shopping habits along with your champagne-induced decision-making skills."
"Ryder Scott," I narrow my eyes at him, "do you want to get lucky tonight or not?"
