Freya's POV

Ryder was still buried deep inside me, thick and hot, still pulsing with the last of his release. My legs were locked around his waist, thighs shaking, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Sweat slicked our skin together.

The only sounds were our ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city below.

And then the door swung open.

My eyes snapped open.

Dylan?

What the fuck is he doing here?

He stood in the doorway frozen, staring at the scenario before him, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and glassy.

He was still in his wedding clothes, the crisp white shirt now untucked, his tie hanging...