I JUST FINISHED my last exam.
I have one semester left, I have one semester left, I repeat the words to myself as I trudge toward my apartment door. I’m physically exhausted and mentally drained. The last three months have kicked my ass. I’ve barely slept, I’ve barely eaten, and I’ve barely seen Ryan over the past week. And now that finals are over, I’m going to go inside and crash.
Ryan and I took full advantage of Alex’s jet offer after he exposed us, flying off to Italy and spending a week on the Amalfi Coast. For seven glorious days, I was the only person Ryan took his clothes off for. Mmm.
My father has yet to meet Ryan face-to-face, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way for a little while longer. Until he can’t make me choose between my love for Ryan or my love for the law. It’s still a dicey situation, but Ryan and I are so close to getting everything we want, I know the sacrifice will be worth it in the end. I put the key into the lock and hear Pitbull blasting from my apartment. I swing the door open to find Ryan having way too much fun doing laundry to “I Know You Want Me.” He has several piles of clothes separated on the couch, and he’s bopping to the music as he folds. I can’t help but stand there and be amused. The last two and a half years have been an education. I’ve learned so much about Ryan. All the little things I didn’t get a chance to the first time around. Like how he eats ice cream out of the container at 2 a.m., or that he’s a neat freak of the obsessive-compulsive kind, which he says is a result of the environment he grew up in. Apparently, his mother and brother liked to pull all-nighters with a carton of cigarettes, a twelve-pack of beer, and a fifth of vodka, leaving him to clean up the mess in their wake. It’s a tragic thought, and always makes me sad.
He also whimpers quietly in his sleep. Which is adorable.
It’s made me realize that we’d only scratched the surface all those years ago. Yet, even with the short time we were together, we knew we were right for each other. I roll my eyes at myself. We are frighteningly compatible, and irrevocably in love.
I don’t know how long I watch before Ryan notices me behind him. He shoots me a cocky smile, tosses the shirt he’s folding down, and slides across the room keeping beat with the music.
I smile at him stupidly.
After doing the logo for my uncle’s law firm, Ryan has been taking on freelance jobs for graphic design. Usually, when I’m studying he’s working on a project. It’s beefing up his resume, but it by no means has given him the incentive to quit Culture or give up Jack the Stripper.
Once he reaches me he mouths the words, counting in my face with his fingers, before grabbing my hand and smashing me into his body. He moves his hips, doing a little circle motion as he grinds against me.
“Showing me your best Johnny Castle impression?” I toy with him.
“None other, it’s where I learned all my dance moves.” He starts dancing me sinfully all around the room, singing the lyrics and rrrrrolling the R’s seductively into my ear. I laugh, because it’s so goddamn sexy and because I can’t picture him watching Dirty Dancing. He then pushes me down on the couch and really starts to move. Pulling off his t-shirt as he rolls his body, pops his chest, and surges his hips, enjoying every second of his little strip tease.
I’m enjoying it, too. I think a little too much, because suddenly my cheeks are on fire and a flash flood of heat is soaking me between my thighs as I watch the hottest man in Manhattan move seductively in front of me.
Ryan creeps down onto his knees, pulls me forward so I’m half lying on my back and positions himself right between my legs. He slams his pelvis hard against my mine, then pumps three times to the rhythm of the music, causing me to cover my face instinctively with my hands, part-embarrassed part-hysterical. When the song ends Ryan pulls my hands away, but I can’t stop laughing. One, because I don’t think I’ve relaxed in the last three months, and two, because I’m totally turned on.
“Did I do something funny?” he asks with all seriousness.
“Funny and totally hot.”
“Now that’s what I want to hear.” He leans down and kisses me, the wet sloppy embrace sending sensations shooting straight to the starved desire spiraling inside me. I moan, compulsively grabbing for the button of his jeans. I’m dying for the release, dying for him. And Ryan totally knows it.
He smooths his hands over my hair, kissing me sweetly and urgently all at the same time.
“I like you like this,” he groans eagerly.
“Half-naked?” I answer, as he yanks the pants from my body.
“Stress-free,” he responds, running his hands down my hips, drinking my body in.
My phone rings, but we both ignore it, too caught up in the moment.
Still on his knees, Ryan lifts one of my legs onto his shoulder then leans forward slightly, bracing himself on the edge of the couch. He circles one fingertip around my clit, before sinking his index finger, then middle finger deep inside me. I jolt from the unhinging pressure. God, I can’t even remember the last time we did this. Never taking his eyes off mine, he pushes my legs farther apart, heightening the sensation of his touch. I become nothing but ripples of need and liquid want under the strokes and lashes of his commanding hand.
“What do you want, Alana?” Ryan demands in a husky voice, flicking my spot.
I can’t even reply, his touch feels so good. It’s drowning me. I close my eyes, throw my head back, and buck my hips, but he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Tell me what you want,” he orders, his blue eyes feral, wanton, rapturous.
“You,” I choke out, as he inches me closer to the edge.
“Me, where?”
“Inside me,” I pant.
“Deep baby?”
“Yes.” I’m unraveling from the ravenous hunger building in my core, and Ryan is the only one who can satisfy it.
He drops my leg and pulls me farther down the couch to where my butt is barely on the cushion. He lifts my arms up, pinning them over my head, and then kisses me hard, his hips stalling an inch away from mine, tormenting me. I struggle to move, the anticipation of what’s to come exasperating.
“Say my name.” He licks up my neck, a hot, tantalizing caress. “I need to hear you say it.” He always needs to hear me say it, especially when we’re like this.
My heart is beating out control, and the lower half of my body feels like it’s about to detonate.
“Ryan,” I implore, and just before I don’t think I can bear another second of his teetering torture, he slips deep inside me. The friction catapults me, and I let out a cry. Fuck. I fling my head back onto the couch as Ryan goes to work. Coaxing me with his hips, sliding his cock in and out, long and deep, over and over, scrambling my brain, feeding the fire raging inside me.
“Ryyaann,” I moan uncontrollably as he pumps into me harder, his grip on my hands so firm it’s almost painful.
“Deep enough for you?”
“No.” I antagonize him, and he slams into me mercilessly causing me to scream.
“I love hearing you, baby,” he breathes rugged and harsh. It’s so fucking hot it tips me right over the edge. All at once I’m clinging to him, digging my plum-polished fingernails into his knuckles as a blast of ecstasy shoots through me, shattering all of my senses.
When I blink my eyes open, and remember where I am, Ryan is tensing on top of me, caught in the middle of his orgasm. It’s beautiful to watch. It’s beautiful to feel. And it makes me all warm and wanted and not so disconnected from the world.
He drops down when he’s done, panting wildly. “Fuck, I missed you,” he murmurs as he encases my body in his arms.
I giggle satisfied, running my hands through his messy hair. “Missed me how exactly?”
Ryan groans lazily. “I missed kissing you here.” He plants his lips between my breasts. “And here.” He sucks on my neck. “And here.” He nips my earlobe with his teeth. “But most of all here.” He swipes his thumb between my thighs where I’m all sticky and wet.
“I missed you kissing me there, too.” I quiver as he sends shockwaves straight to my tailbone.
Ryan falls back onto the floor, dragging my loose, languid body with him, positioning me on his lap. His pants are still around his ankles and his hair is a fluffed-up mess. He encircles his arms around me, as I drop my head back onto his shoulder. We just sit there quietly and bask, Ryan petting me all over. Mmmmmm.
“I love it when you’re on break from school.” Ryan licks my neck like a lazy lion—one long, hot stroke after the other.
“Me, too. I can’t believe it’s my last one. One more semester then it’s off to the real world.”
Ryan freezes mid lick. “The real world,” he repeats.
“Is there something wrong with the real world?” I ask.
“No,” he answers and then goes back to brushing his tongue against my skin.
“Ryan, what’s wrong?” I roll my eyes in pure bliss. That feels so effing good.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Ryan lifts his head and looks at me with big, blue vigilant eyes. I know he has something to tell me. I can see it on his face and feel it in his taut muscles enclosed around me.
“I just don’t know if I’m ready to share you with the real world.”
“You don’t have to share me, I’m all yours.”
He drops his forehead to mine. “And I’m all yours.”
“Ryan, are you sure nothing’s wrong?” I ask again, instinctively worried.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’d tell you if there was.” He shifts me off him, lowering me down onto my back. He runs his hands all over my naked body, kissing all the places he said he missed.
“Ah!” I tense when he drops his head between my knees. And just like that, words cease to exist.
After I get out of the shower I look to see who called, while Ryan re-folds all the crinkled clothes. He snaps my ass with one of his shirts as I walk by him, and I jump.
“That wasn’t very nice,” I pout as I hit Emily’s name on my phone.
“I’ll kiss it and make it all better if you want,” he promises with a salacious smile.
“You stay right where you are,” I instruct playfully. There could be a fun evening ahead of us, but it’s Friday, and Ryan has to work.
Movie and take-out for me tonight.
“Alana!” Emily answers enthusiastically.
“Hey, you didn’t leave a message when you called.” I haven’t talked to Emily in weeks, and when I hear her voice it makes me realize how much I miss her.
“I wanted to see what you were doing tonight. It’s Jill’s bachelorette party. I want you to come.”
I could definitely use a night out after this semester.
“Okay, where are you guys going?”
“Where else? Culture.”
I immediately reconsider.
“I don’t know, Em,” I glance up at Ryan who’s folding cluelessly.
“Come on, I have an extra ticket to the Male Revue.”
“Emily, are you serious? I can’t sit through that.”
“Sit through what?” Ryan asks.
I pause. “Let me call you right back, Em.” I hang up.
“Jill’s bachelorette party is tonight,” I share.
“Oh, yeah? Emily wants you to go?”
“Yes, but the thing is . . .” I bite my lip. “They’re going to Culture. And the Male Revue.”
Ryan holds my gaze like he’s playing a hand of poker. “And?”
“And . . . would that be weird?”
“For me or you?” he questions.
“Both?”
Ryan measures me with a contemplative expression. “I don’t have to dance tonight.”
“You’re going to blow off work?”
“No, not exactly, I just won’t do the Male Revue. Actually,” a light bulb goes off in his head, “I can belong to you tonight.”
“Excuse me? I thought you belonged to me every night?”
“Yes, I do. Every night, every day, every moment,” he reassures me. “But can you just go with it for now?”
“Owning you?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I shrug, wondering what the hell he has up his sleeve.
Ryan grabs his phone off the end table by the couch and punches a button, a few moments later he’s talking to Divan. “Hey, man, change of plans tonight.” He turns and walks toward my bedroom. “No Male Revue, and I need . . .” He disappears behind the door before I can hear anything else.
A few hours later I’m looking at myself in the mirror. Ryan has already left for work, and my Uber should be here any minute. I glance at the clock, 9:30 p.m. I decided to still skip the Male Revue even though Ryan opted out. I can have a male strip show anytime I want, just look at what happened this afternoon.
I run my fingers through my blonde hair. I blew it out so it’s pin straight, the ends touching just below the middle of my back. My bangs are styled to the side, my eyes smoked out with a black sparkly shadow, and my lips are a glossy, magenta pink.
Dressed in a sheer, peach-colored tunic top pleated all the way around, the front hem shorter than the back with a black tank top underneath, skinny jeans and black knee-high boots I’m ready to take on the night.
I stuff my ID, some money, and lip gloss into my black Coach wristlet, before grabbing my coat and heading downstairs to wait for my car. Twenty minutes later the white Ford is dropping me off on the doorstep of Culture. I step out into the chilly night air and immediately spot a familiar face. Lorenzo, manning his station behind the red velvet rope checking IDs. There’s already a line two city blocks long of women and a few men waiting to get in to one of NYC’s hottest social scenes.
“Chica!” Lorenzo’s voice vibrates when he sees me and, like usual, I hear the chords to “Still Not a Player” in my head. Lorenzo’s dressed in his typical threads—black leather jacket, black shirt, black pants and derby hat. “It’s been too long, mommy. Where you been?”
“Trapped under law books,” I impart dryly as he unhooks the rope, allowing me to bypass the line.
“Ryan got the hookup for you and your girlies tonight.” He smiles widely.
“Oh, really? What does that mean exactly?”
“You’ll see.” He grins. “Have a smoke for old times before you go inside?”
I sigh, “I quit.”
“Good for you.” Lorenzo nudges me and then opens the door.
I curl my lip. “I’m not so sure.”
“Star! Alana’s here,” he yells just before I walk through the doorway. Lorenzo winks at me. “She’ll take care of you. Have fun, mama . . .” he teases.
“Thanks,” I murmur. He has seriously piqued my curiosity. I recall the last time I was here, and my thoughts immediately dart to the semi-private room in the back of the club. The cluster of alcoves is called the dance quarter, which I later came to find out. And I can’t stop myself from wondering if Ryan and I are going to end up there again.
I walk in and find Star sitting behind a little table with a cash register on it. She’s African American with a huge afro and beautiful almond eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Alana.” She’s sweet, pulling up one side of the black curtain. “Everything is ready for you and your guests.”
Guests?
I follow Star into the club, a remix of “Troublemaker” by Olly Murs and Flo Rida is pumping through the sound system. It looks mostly the same, except now there are pedestals with stripper poles sprinkled around the floor, and half-naked men dancing systematically to the music. There’s also a new Cirque du Soleil attraction on the ceiling. Huge rings hung by ribbon, it’s a spectacle, to say the least.
“This way.” Star leads me left.
“Where are we going?”
“The VIP area.” We start to climb up steps in a dark corridor lit with tiny twinkle lights. There’s a long hallway at the top with several large doors on the right hand side. She opens the second one and motions for me to step through. As I enter the room, I realize it isn’t a room at all, it’s a huge balcony with a bird’s-eye view of the entire club. There’s a U-shaped, white leather couch with purple spotlights shining over it. A large, shiny, white square table with several bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets, and a small wet bar in the left corner.
Wow.
“The rest of your party is on their way up, and Ryan should be here shortly. Would you like a glass of champagne?”
Um, hell, yeah.
“Yes, please.” Without hesitation, Star pulls out a bottle of Cristal and pops it open.
Ryan didn’t skimp, I think to myself, as I take the glass from her.
“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll let you get comfortable.”
“No, thank you.” I smile and she closes the door. I amble over to the railing and look out over the club. The acrobats are eye level, and I can see the entire dance floor below. People’s hot, sweaty bodies are mashed together as the lights under the DJ’s booth flicker, the colors of the strobes changing from orange to yellow to purple to red. I hear some energetic screaming coming from the balcony next door, I can’t see what’s causing the commotion, but I can definitely imagine what it could be.
A few seconds later, the door behind me busts open and Emily, Jill, and the rest of her party come stumbling in. Jill throws her arms around me as soon as she sees me. “Ryan hooked it up!” she yells, reeking of some kind of fruity alcohol.
“You had a good time at the Male Revue, I take it?”
“Amazing!” she screams excitedly, grabbing the champagne bottle off the table, taking a huge swig.
Oh, this is going to be an interesting night.
“Not only did I have the hottest dancer in the club, besides Ryan, of course.” Of course. “But, he got all the girls in my party private dances and a bunch of guys to hang out with us all night.” She downs more champagne. “Do you know the rumors that swirl around about Culture’s VIP rooms? Only rock stars and celebrities hang out up here. This is the best bachelorette party ever!” she shrieks in my ear.
“I’m glad.” I hold her up as she hangs on me. “How much did she have to drink?” I ask Emily.
“Not as much as you think. Jill was hyperventilating earlier about walking down the aisle. We needed to calm her down, so one of the girls gave her a Xanax.”
“You sure that was a good idea?”
“Probably not,” she shrugs, “but at least she’s having fun now.”
“Clearly. The question is for how long.”
I prop Jill up on the couch with her bottle of champagne, her eyes are glazing over and her head is bobbing all over the place. She’s going to have one wicked hangover in the morning.
The room quickly fills up with men in those tiny metallic blue briefs, each choosing a girl to entertain. Everyone is drinking and partying, stirring up a mix of testosterone and estrogen so potent you can almost smell sex in the air. Emily and I just stand in the corner taking it all in.
I can’t lie, this is all highly entertaining.
The music changes to Far East Movement’s “Like a G6” and the energy in the club explodes.
As Emily and I succumb to the let-loose beat and start to dance, I feel someone slide their hands down my sides and push their body up against mine. “Hey, beautiful,” a familiar voice rasps. I smile, dancing another second before I turn around and jerk my head back. “Sean?”
He smiles wickedly at me.
“What are you doing here?” I step back.
“I came to see Ryan.”
“Here?”
“Yeah, here. I come and hang out all the time.”
“You do? Why?” I can’t fathom it.
“Um, a room full of hot, horny women. Why wouldn’t I hang out here?”
Okay, he’s got me there.
“How did you get up here?” I ask.
“I snuck up. I saw you from the dance floor. Where’s Ryan?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him yet.” I glance at my watch, it’s been over an hour.
“Well, I can keep you company until he gets here.” Sean leans into me. I put my hand on his chest and glare into his eyes. God, he really is the spitting image of Ryan, it’s uncanny. “You can hang out, but keep your distance.” I’m nice, but firm. Sean steps back, taking the hint. He’s wearing an over-sized black t-shirt and baggy jeans. No hat, which is unusual. His hair is much shorter than Ryan’s, but it’s still wavy like his on top. I’ve only seen Sean a handful of times since Ryan and I started dating again. That first meeting at the café, and then here and there when he would show up, unannounced, in the city. Other than that, Ryan pretty much keeps me segregated from his family. Which I don’t hold against him at all. We have a mutual understanding, each of us is dealing with our own plateful of family problems. How do we deal? The way we always have. We concentrate on each other instead of dwelling on the drama. And Sean is most definitely drama. I pour myself another glass of champagne and one for Sean. I hand him the flute and he grimaces, “You rich folk actually drink this shit?”
“Have you ever had it?”
“No.”
“Then don’t call it shit unless you know what it tastes like.”
He looks at the glass tentatively, then shrugs and takes a gulp.
I watch as he downs half the glass. The number tattooed on his neck catching my eye. “Not shit, I guess.” He swirls the liquid causing the bubbles to fizz. “But I’d rather have some Henny.”
“Henny?”
Sean laughs. “Hennessy. I’m surprised a little rich girl like you hasn’t heard of it.”
“I have heard of it. I’ve just never heard someone call it that. And is money all you see when you look at me?” I become annoyed.
“No, I see a girl who’s probably going to break my brother’s heart once she’s done with law school.”
“Why would you say a thing like that?” I snap. “I love Ryan.”
“I’m sure you do, today. But the pauper never ends up with the princess, he ends up on his ass.”
Sean is beginning to piss me off.
“Are you trying to start a fight?”
“I’m always trying to start a fight.” Sean finishes the rest of his champagne arrogantly.
“I’m not going to walk into your trap.” I stalk away from him and lean on the railing on the other side of the balcony. I look down into the crowd below and spot Ryan on a pedestal, snake-charming a bunch of women. He’s shirtless and wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that are hanging off his hips, the entire waistband of his white Calvin Klein’s exposed. And for a hot minute, I wish it was my name stitched onto the elastic so every single woman in this freakin’ club would know exactly whom he belongs to.
M.E.
Ryan spins and twirls effortlessly around the pole like they’re old friends, the strobe lights beating off his body as he moves. I stare mesmerized, realizing he can hypnotize me just as easily as those strangers on the floor. Watching him in his element is a duality for me; it kills my spirit just as much as it makes it soar.
“Show pony, isn’t he?” Sean leans on the railing next to me, snapping me out of my daze.
“Jealous your brother gets all the attention?”
“I’m not jealous, I’m worried.”
“You don’t strike me as the worrying type.”
“About him I do.”
“And what is it that you worry about, Sean?”
“That he’s going to end up just like me.”
“Only if he steals your identity.” I snort.
Sean cocks an eyebrow at me.
I stand up straight and get right in his face. Brother or not, I’m not going to let him get in my head, or Ryan’s, for that matter. “I’m going to be blunt with you. Ryan and I may come from different socioeconomic backgrounds, you know what that is, right? Tell me if the little rich girl uses too many big words,” I bite and Sean just nods mutely. “Ryan and I are more alike than you will ever know. So, don’t come at me like you know me. Because you don’t know jack shit. I don’t buy for one second that you’re concerned about him, because if you were, he wouldn’t have spent three years in jail for something you did.”
Sean clenches his jaw like I just slapped him across the face; an inferno of emotion blazing in his blue eyes.
“It doesn’t bother you that Ryan goes Full Monty for a living?”
Of course, it does. I hate it, but I love him.
“If it did, would I be standing here wasting my time with you?”
Sean glares at me like he’s ready to brawl. If he wants to go, bring it. I’ll show him just how tough this little rich girl can be.
“Maybe Ryan does have a fighting chance with you, after all.”
“Maybe,” I respond snidely.
“Maybe, what?” Ryan’s voice carries over the music, and Sean and I both look over at him.
“Maybe nothing, Sean just needed some reassurance about something,” I share pseudo-sweetly.
“Anything I should know about?” Ryan pins Sean with an accusing look.
“Nope, nothing, bro. Your girl was just putting me in my place,” Sean says derisively.
“Right where you should be.” Ryan smiles scathingly. “Do you need a drink?” He slips a possessive arm around my waist.
“Like the desert needs rain.” I hand him my glass.
“So, are you ready to own me?” Ryan asks after several glasses of champagne. He has me pinned against the wall, his half-naked body pressed against mine, moving subtly to the music.
“I guess as I’ll ever be,” I murmur, completely spun up in the mix of Ryan’s hot and steamy alter ego and the heady effects of the alcohol. I understand why he’s so successful as Jack the Stripper, he exudes sexuality. He’s a seductive, beguiling, temptation that just fucking derails you.
Ryan takes my hand and leads me away from our little crowd. I give a small wave to Emily as I walk out the door. We head back downstairs and through the main room of the club, cutting across the dance floor. As we walk, a multitude of lustful eyes size Ryan up, some even go so far as to touch him, caressing his arms and chest, like a devout harem.
It’s odd to experience, and just before we break away from the mass of dancers I hear someone hiss, “Lucky bitch.”
Suddenly a wave of possessiveness comes over me—lucky is right, he’s mine.
I squeeze his hand tighter as we slip through the hanging beads at the back of the club. We walk past the dozens of tiny alcoves where just like before, silhouettes of bodies are doing sinful and illicit things. And as the scent of lavender incense hits me, I’m transported back to the night Ryan and I spent here doing our own sinful and illicit things. My flesh heats, curious as to which room he’ll choose, but he just keeps going until we get to the end of the hall.
“Aren’t we going in one of those?” I point to the hanging beads behind us.
“Not tonight.” He glances back at me, and there is a mischievous look in his beautiful blue eyes.
He pulls a silver chain out of his pocket that has a gold key dangling on the end. Then he unlocks the door.
“What’s in there?” My curiosity is provoked.
“Take a look.” Ryan pushes the door open, and I poke my head inside.
I gasp at the opulence. It’s a bedroom. A beautifully decorated bedroom. I step in and spin around, inspecting each and every aspect of the space. It’s done in all pale colors—whites, creams and the softest of pinks. The walls are draped with sheer white fabric and illuminated with tiny twinkle lights.
“Why is there a bedroom in the back of a nightclub?” I ask astounded, while candlelight flickers all around us.
“We call it the B and B.” Ryan steps closer to me.
“And what does B and B stand for?”
“Boyfriend bedroom,” he answers, gauging my reaction. “It’s for the boyfriend experience.”
“Do I dare ask what the boyfriend experience is?”
“It’s the most private and personal service we offer.”
Service?
“And how many boyfriend experiences have you done?” I look around and have a feeling this goes above and beyond anything that happens behind those dangling crystals.
“Two,” he offers up seriously, “and they were both before you.”
“What about during me?” I small wave of nausea hits.
Ryan shakes his head strictly, his eyes boring into mine. “None, I couldn’t be close like that to anyone but you.”
“How close are we talking?”
“As close as one or the other allows.”
I gulp hard, trying to push the image of Ryan seducing another woman out of my head.
“If this makes you uncomfortable, we can leave.”
I stare at Ryan, trying to decipher my feelings.
“Women actually pay you for sex?”
“No, sex is implied, that would be prostitution,” Ryan clarifies, “but this is a lonely city and people crave intimacy. And that’s exactly what the boyfriend experience is about, catering to emotional needs.”
“But it’s not real.”
“It doesn’t have to be. It’s escapism. Like a ride at Disneyland.”
“You’re comparing it to the happiest place on Earth?”
“I’m only trying to make a point that there are all types of amusement park rides in life.”
“I just can’t grasp the concept.”
“You don’t have to. You’re one of the lucky ones, you’re loved.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.
I bat my eyelashes at Ryan. Despite the fact I’m standing in a beautifully decorated room of ill repute, I do feel lucky, and loved.
“Why exactly did you bring me here?” I glance at the huge, striking bed beside us that I absolutely adore. Its frame is white metal, the headboard and footboard shaped in a swirling, abstract design.
“I wanted to loosen you up a little. You’ve been so stressed lately.” His voice is genuinely sincere.
“What did you have in mind exactly?” I indulge him.
Ryan’s mouth spreads into a tempting smile. “Get undressed and I’ll show you.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’m just supposed to strip down?”
“I don’t care how you get naked.” He pulls back the shiny cream comforter. “Just take your damn clothes off and lie on the bed.”
I glance hesitantly down at the sheets.
Ryan rolls his eyes. “Relax, it’s sanitary. You sleep on hotel mattresses, don’t you?”
“Not after tonight,” I snort.
“Just strip, already,” he orders.
“Bossy, bossy, I thought I was supposed to own you tonight?”
Ryan’s eyes absolutely glow with excitement. “Baby, you not only own me, you possess me.”
“I didn’t realize I had so much power.” I seductively pull my top over my head.
Ryan saunters over to me and slips his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans, then smashes my body into his. “You have power, you have force, and you irreversibly own my heart.” He claims my mouth, plunging his tongue straight between my lips. I melt into his body, but the kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough because as soon as I try to wrap my arms around his neck, he swiftly wiggles away.
Hey.
Ryan unfastens my jeans before pushing me down, speedily removing my boots and then my pants. He’s a pro. I’m left sitting in nothing but a black lacy bra and matching panties, my hair cascading down over my naked shoulders.
“On your stomach, woman,” Ryan orders, but I don’t comply immediately.
“I said . . .” He grabs my thighs and flips me over. “On. Your. Stomach.”
I let out a playful scream as I hit the mattress face down.
As soon as I hear Ryan undo the zipper of his jeans my stomach muscles clench. I will never, ever get enough of this man.
He begins to plant gentle kisses on the small of my back, working his way up until he reaches my bra. Unhooking the clasp effortlessly, he rips it out from underneath me, like a magic trick. Then there’s nothing, not a touch, or a stroke or a caress. I crane my head around to see Ryan digging in one of the nightstand drawers. It’s a pure white piece of rustic furniture, with soft edges and decorative handles. He pulls out a small bottle and tosses it on the bed.
“What the hell is that?”
“Massage oil. I hope you like the smell of peppermint because I’m giving you a rub down.” Sweet. The stress in my back is killer. “What did you think it was? Lube?”
“With you, I never know,” I tease.
He smirks as he crawls on top of me. “It can serve a dual purpose,” he divulges devilishly.
I pull my hair away from my neck and coil it on top of my head, the strands falling flaccidly onto the mattress. Ryan drips the liquid all over my skin, and I jerk from its cold feel. He then starts rubbing. Dear God, the small of my back warms with the oil, causing me to moan as he chases all the tension away. With increasing pressure he works his way up my spine and over my shoulders, using his thumbs to work out my knots. We could be mistaken for having sex with all the auditory responses he’s forcing out of me.
I close my eyes, inhale the thick scent of the peppermint, and listen to the dreamy music—“Stay” by Rihanna is playing softly in the background. I let my thoughts drift as Ryan manipulates my muscles. No one’s touch compares to his.
He slides his hands firmly up and down my back, then kneads over my butt, sneaking one finger inside me.
“Ryan!” I pop my head up from the ‘surprise’ slip.
“Oops.” He plays dumb, but there is a hint of seduction in his voice.
“Oops, my ass,” I respond cynically.
“And what a nice ass it is.” He rubs his hand underneath the lace of my cheeky panties.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I like everything about you.” He sucks and kisses the middle of my back.
“I like everything about you, too,” I reply, but a small part of me knows that isn’t true.
I try to push the thought out of my head, and before I have a chance to dwell, Ryan says my name. “Alana?”
“Umm-hmm?” I answer, focusing on his hands.
“There’s another reason I brought you here.”
I pop my eyes open. “What’s the reason?”
He’s quiet for a few moments before he speaks. “I got a five-thousand-dollar tip tonight.”
My eyes widen. “Holy shit, from whom?”
Ryan has come home with extra-large tips in the past, but never one as big as that.
“I can’t tell you her name, but I can tell you she’s a huge pop star.”
I recall the screaming coming through the wall in the VIP area, and now I’m positive Ryan was the cause of the piercing cries.
“That’s huge.” I press my cheek into the mattress not knowing what else to say.
Ryan sighs, “Alana, I need to know where your head is at.”
“In terms of what?” I immediately respond.
“Of us, our future.”
Future? I stare silently at one of the large crystal candelabras sprinkled around the room, glimmering in the candlelight.
“You’re going to be done with school soon—”
“I don’t have a job lined up yet, Ryan.”
“I know, that’s why I need to know,” he pauses, pressing harder against my muscles causing me to groan. “The owners approached me a few days ago, they’re expanding. Opening a Culture in Las Vegas, and they want me to headline it.”
“What?” I push myself up and Ryan rolls off me. I sit up, covering my bare breasts with my arm, my hair falling like a golden veil around my body. “Is that what you want? To go to Vegas?”
“Yes.” He’s blunt, and it stops my heart.
“Is this what you were trying to tell me right before you licked me senseless all afternoon?”
“Sort of.” Ryan’s mouth spreads into a wide, salacious smile. “But just so we’re clear. I only licked you senseless because that’s how I wanted to spend my afternoon. Not because I was keeping it from you. I just didn’t know how to ask.”
“Ask what?”
“If you’ll come with me.”
“What?” I nearly fall off the bed. “To Las Vegas?”
“Alana, just listen.” He scoots onto his knees. “This would be major money for me, a chance to set us up for a good long while. And maybe you can find a job in Vegas? Your uncle might know someone. And it wouldn’t be permanent. We’ll come back, because I know New York is where you want to be,” he rattles.
“New York is where I want to be. But what about your graphic design business? You’ve been doing so well.”
“It’s been good,” he agrees, “and I’ll still do it, but it’s going to take me a long time to build a reputable platform. This opportunity will be a chance for me to put some real money in the bank. And it will let me support you so you can get out from under your dad.”
“Is that what this is really about? My father?” I retort.
“No, not him, us.” Ryan looks anxious. “And moving forward.”
“Forward?”
“Yes,” he hesitates. “I need to know . . . what I mean is . . . I want to know if . . .” Ryan is fumbling all over himself, and I have no idea what he’s trying to say, until it dawns on me like the sun. My heart flutters.
I try not to concentrate on the future too much. My main focus is the present. Finishing law school, getting a stellar job, and living independently, but there have been times I let my mind wander past all that. And, yes, it’s Ryan I see standing next to me when I imagine it. But now? It feels so soon. And yet, indisputably right.
“Ryan,” I interrupt his nervous rambling, “do you want to know if I’ll marry you?”
He nods his head, his eyes as big as blue porcelain saucers.
I smile sweetly. “You’re going to have to ask me to find out.”
His face falls. “That’s your answer?”
I shrug my shoulders, that’s all I’m giving away.
“What about Vegas?” He pushes tentatively.
I mull over my decision, knowing wholeheartedly I want to be wherever Ryan is.
“I guess I can take the Bar in both New York and Nevada.” I consider.
“Really? You’ll come?” I think he’s as shocked at my split decision as I am.
“I’ll go, but, Ryan,” I pause. “I don’t know how much longer I can live with you doing this. Especially if . . .” I trail off.
“I know, baby, I know it’s hard to deal with sometimes.” He slides forward onto his stomach and wraps his arms around my waist, forcing me down with him. “Just a little while longer, for our future.”
“It’s already been two years.” I expel a restless breath.
“Please, don’t get your head wrapped around it, this is supposed to be a stress-free night.” He runs his fingers down my side.
“Wrapped around it?” I laugh loudly. “I’m lying right in the middle of it.” I stare up at the white decorative molding on the ceiling that looks as if it’s made out of delicate filigree.
“I never finished your back rub.” Ryan attempts to distract me from my uncertainties. It will work on the surface, but deep down my uncertainties will always be there.
With a gentle nudge, he urges me to roll over, and I do it without hesitation, because right now, distraction is exactly what I need.
I don’t want to think. I don’t want to worry. I don’t want to be reminded that when we leave this room, it won’t be Ryan walking next to me.
It’ll be Jack the Stripper.
Ryan straddles my legs, and brushes his hands all over my back, his touch light as a feather. Running his fingers through my hair, he leans down and kisses my neck. Softly at first, then with increasing pressure.
“Do you remember when you wanted a tattoo,” he reminisces, “but wouldn’t get it because of your father?”
“Yes, so you drew one on me in permanent marker.” I giggle. “It took a week to wash off.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get it.” He traces an infinity symbol with the tip of his finger at the base of my neck.
“Why? I thought body art was your favorite type of expression,” I tease, recalling a conversation we had a lifetime ago.
“It is, but your skin is just too beautiful to mark up.” He kisses my shoulder and the heat from his mouth electrifies down my body. He grabs both of my wrists and pulls them up over my head, his full weight now on top of me. I can’t move as he restrains me, my heart racing at 110 mph. With one hand holding my wrists, he slides the other underneath my chest and cups one of my breasts.
“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” Ryan digs his erection into my ass.
Arching underneath him, I lift myself up to see just how crazy I can make him. He moans loudly as he dry humps me from behind. The sound does wild things to me. Letting go of my wrists, he sits up and slides his boxers off, the mattress dipping underneath his knees. Then sweetly and softly, Ryan kisses my back as he slides my panties over and inserts one finger inside me, bringing my whole being to life.
With one arm he holds me down as he coaxes and coerces my body with the other, pushing it to the limit. And after a few long, hard, heat-inducing minutes he withdraws from my soaked center, seconds before he flips me right over the edge.
With my arms still stretched over my head and my breathing labored, Ryan crawls on top of me. “I want to love you, baby.” He spreads my legs open with his, before surging into me without any warning, the rush causing me to gasp as I clutch the sheets and press my forehead firmly against the mattress.
“God, you feel so fucking good, I can’t even stand it.” Ryan grinds out the words like pulverized salt.
I am completely full. Completely full of him in my body, and my heart. Ryan rests his forehead between my shoulder blades and just breathes. It’s a titillating sound. Lying here, unmoving, listening to dreamy music, being together is extraordinarily profound. When he said he wanted to love me, he meant in more ways than one. He wants a connection. The ultimate connection.
His erection pulses inside me while his breathing becomes strained.
“I need to move.” He nips at my neck. “I need to feel you.” He hooks one arm underneath me and slightly lifts my hips.
“You have me,” I whisper submissively. Ryan groans feverishly as he begins to move the same way he dances—passionately, keenly, instinctively. Feeding my body exactly what it needs. Exactly what it’s craving. Devouring me with each pull and every push.
As I listen to Ryan’s tortured sighs, feel his slick skin slide across mine, and consume the painstakingly slow rhythm of his hips as he slides in and out of me over and over, my mind goes blank, leaving nothing. Only Ryan. Inside me, on top of me, suffusing every part of me.
He tangles his hand in my hair and tugs, gently pulling my head back. “I want to be the only one who touches you like this,” he rasps in my ear, sending my body and my emotions spinning out of control. I’m nothing but a hot spring of yearning as my climax builds deep within my core. Aching and throbbing, I’m desperate for every inch of him.
“Do you like the way I touch you?” He slams into me.
“Yes,” I gasp, completely helpless to the constrictive hold he has on my body, not to mention my mind.
“Do you know how much I love you?” He slams into me again.
“Yes!” I cry out, every muscle in my belly coiling into a compressed spring. I can hardly stand it, I’m going to shatter. “Ryan, please.”
“I know, baby.” He sucks on my shoulder, my muscles expanding and contracting around him. “Let go. I want to feel you let go.”
With one last, hard thrust he snaps me like a rubber band, and I choke out my orgasm as he pulls harder on my hair.
“Alana.” My name rips from his throat in almost an agonizing plea as he finds his own release right alongside mine, his arm tightening around my waist, rendering me still. Then he collapses on top of me, his breath hot and heavy against my back. Both of us panting and physically depleted.
“You’re so fucking incredible.” He wraps his arms and legs around me and rolls us onto our sides.
“I think you’re the incredible one. You did all the work.”
Ryan chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back. “I like you submissive.”
“I like the way you make love to me.” I exhale languidly.
“I’ll make love to you the rest of your life if you’ll let me.” He hugs me tighter.
Hmmm . . . When you persuade a girl like that, who can say no?
“So, when is this Vegas thing supposed to happen?” I pump Ryan for details as I pull my shirt over my head.
“Not for a while. The end of next year, maybe.” He tries to lift it back up, but I slap his hand away. We’ve been playing this little game for the last half hour.
“How am I ever supposed to leave this room if you won’t let me get dressed?”
“Who says I want to leave?”
“We can’t stay in here all night.”
“Yes, we can.” Ryan grabs me, and throws me back onto the mattress. I squeal.
“Emily is going to be wondering what happened to us.”
“So?” He crawls on top of me and stares down.
“So—” I don’t have an answer for that.
“I want to know you’re really okay with this.”
“With what? Moving to Vegas so you can launch into superstar stripper stardom?”
“Superstar stripper stardom?” Ryan raises his eyebrows, then his expression morphs into something wicked. Oh, no. He dispatches a tickle assault on my ribcage before I can think.
“Ryan!” I shriek, writhing and kicking and gasping for air, powerless under his attack. Before long we’re both laughing so hard, neither of us can breathe. This is exactly why I love him so much. Why I couldn’t live without him. He sets me free.
“Yes, I’m okay with it.” I think. “We’ll be together, that’s all that matters. Just make sure you remember who you’re coming home to at night.”
“I already told you, I could never forget.” Ryan swipes his thumb across my cheek and kisses me chastely.
“Good, because my threat still stands.”
“I remember. You’ll make me understand the true definition of pain.”
“The acutely unpleasant physical discomfort experienced by somebody who is violently struck, injured, or ill,” I rattle off.
Ryan rolls his eyes, and I laugh.
“You’re such a geek.”
Ryan locks the door to the B and B and slips the key back into his jean pocket, just as Emily emerges from behind some hanging beads with a big, buff blond guy in tow. She freezes when she sees Ryan and me, the expression on her face classic. She was caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Don’t tell Alex,” she says automatically.
Ryan and I just glance at each other. “Hey, what happens in the dance quarter stays in the dance quarter,” Ryan assures her with a surrendering hand gesture.
“We were just having a bit of fun,” Mr. Hawaiian Tropic adds, a hot Australian accent flowing out of his mouth.
“Is that like your mantra or something?” I recall Ryan telling me the same thing when we were in one of those little rooms.
“Nah, just the truth.” He smiles, his green eyes twinkling.
I hook one of my arms with Emily’s and start walking down the hallway. “So, how was the Thunder from Down Under?” I ask highly amused.
“It’s Logan and,” she rolls her eyes back, “amazing.”
I laugh aloud, clutching her tightly.
“Where were you?” She turns the interrogation on me. She clearly saw us coming out of that room.
“The Chamber of Secrets.” I laugh.
“Excuse me?” Emily raises an eyebrow.
“It’s a conversation for another time,” I hint.
“Is it a one scoop or two scoop conversation?”
I sigh. “It’s like a four scoop conversation.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit, is right.”
Logan and Ryan mutter under their breaths as they walk behind us.
“I thought you didn’t go in there? And what happened to your girlfriend?” I catch Logan ask.
“She is my girlfriend,” Ryan responds, and I turn my head. Logan pins me with an amused expression.
“What?” I question under his pointed stare.
“So, you’re the one who tamed Jack the Stripper.”
“The definition of tame must be different in Australia,” I muse, “because the last thing I would call Ryan is tame.”
“Compared to what he used to be like, he is.”
Ryan punches Logan in the arm. “I don’t really think Alana needs to hear any more about it.”
“Nor does she want to,” I add dryly. The little bit I do know is enough.
“Hey, I’m just saying, you must be one hell of a woman.”
I glance at Ryan, he’s straight-faced, but there’s a gleam in his eye. “She is.”
When we get back to the VIP room, it’s close to 2 a.m. Jill is passed out cold on the couch and there are a few make-out sessions going on here and there. Sean is in the corner trying to hit on one of Jill’s friends, looking close to sealing the deal.
It’s a regular bordello in here.
“Does your brother hang out here often?” I ask Ryan.
“Occasionally.” He’s looking at the same thing I am. Sean in action. Now that he’s not heckling me, I notice he looks skinnier than the last time I saw him. His clothes are baggier, and his face is thin. He’s still beautiful, though, just like Ryan. “The best is when he gets mistaken for me.” Ryan’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “I’m not the only Pierce who’s donned a stripper pole.”
“No way.” I gape at Ryan.
“Swear to God.”
“Now, that’s a show I would pay to see.”
“I wouldn’t let you.” Ryan snakes his arm around me possessively and nuzzles his nose in my hair. The gesture gives me the most sensitizing kind of chills.
“Relax, I could never mistake Sean for you.” I kiss him tenderly, running my tongue along his bottom lip.
“Good. Because I would have to kill him if he tried anything stupid with you.” There’s a flash of warning in his eyes, and a threat in his tone.
“I don’t think he’d do that.” I pacify him, not liking his response one bit.
“With Sean, you never know.” He digs his fingers into my flesh and kisses me so hard it feels like he’s trying to brand his name onto my lips. “I’m going to go get my things and have a quick conversation with Daniel.”
“Daniel?” I ask, woozy, trying to recover from the overbearing kiss.
“The owner who approached me about Vegas. I want to tell him I’m in.”
A little stab of reality hits me when Ryan announces the word in. We’re really going to do this.
“Okay, go. I’ll be fine. Do what you have to.”
Ryan’s face lights up with a huge smile. “I am going to make you so happy.” He grabs my chin gently.
“You already make me happy,” I breathe, just before he brings his mouth to mine again.
“Don’t disappear,” he orders seductively.
“That’s not my MO,” I jest.
“Mine either. Not anymore.”
“Nope, not anymore,” I agree, rabidly love struck. Ryan is undoubtedly the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.
I watch Ryan walk out of the room, all hot bod and sexy confidence. Alone, I lean over the railing of the balcony near the wall, watching the club dance with life. It’s a show all on its own.
“Ryan left you all by your lonesome?” Sean asks from my right side. His voice sounds exactly like Ryan’s.
“He’s just getting his things. Where’s your mark?”
“My mark?” He looks right through me, his pupils are teeny tiny.
“Yeah, Jill’s friend who looked like she was begging you to bend her over in a bathroom stall.”
“Dirty mouth,” Sean jibes. “You should eat a piece of Orbitz.”
I roll my eyes, even though I sort of want to laugh.
“I only look prim and proper, people can have many sides.”
“Don’t I know it,” he scoffs.
“Then why do you keep treating me like you can’t see past the surface?”
Sean doesn’t answer. He just stares fixated, like his mind is wandering other places.
“Are you always so controlled?” he asks absurdly.
“What?”
“Uptight. You always seem so uptight.”
“I’m not that uptight, my boyfriend is a stripper,” I argue.
“Maybe.” Sean shrugs considering. “But I don’t think I buy that. I’ve watched you, you’ve been drinking all night, off doing God knows what with my brother, and yet here you are, completely composed, not one strand of hair out of place.”
“I’m poised, what can I say? It’s the way I was brought up.”
“Do you want to unwind?” Sean offers randomly.
“Unwind how?”
Sean holds his hand up and there’s a tiny pill between his thumb and index finger.
“What the hell is that?”
“X,” he answers, and my heart pounds. No way am I taking that.
Sean and I stare eye to eye, him egging me on.
“What does that number mean on your neck?” I have always wanted to know and this seems like a perfect time to ask.
“It’s the number of days Ryan spent in jail,” Sean informs me without blinking, still holding the little white pill up to my face.
“Why did you let him do it?” I am desperate for answers. For Sean’s side of the story.
Sean’s eyes glaze over with a detached glare.
“Because I’m weak.” He’s candid, and I’m floored by his honesty.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ryan snarls, causing Sean and I to both snap our heads in his direction.
“Nothing, bro. Just trying to chill your girl out.”
“She doesn’t need to be chilled out.” Ryan yanks me behind him. “And what are you doing with that junk?”
“It’s nothing.” Sean tries to play it off.
“It’s not nothing!” Ryan erupts and I flinch. He barely ever raises his voice. It’s uncharacteristic. “You get popped with that shit you go to jail. You’re on probation, dickhead.”
“For your information, jackoff, I was released last week.”
“And you’re right back to your old bullshit!” Ryan unloads.
“It’s one little pill, it’s harmless.”
“It’s not the one little pill I’m worried about, it’s the bag of little pills I’m sure you have stuffed in your pocket,” Ryan accuses. “And keep that crap away from Alana! What the fuck are you thinking?”
He’s not.
“She wasn’t going to take it, she’s too good for that.”
Oh, dig. I’m not offended.
“You’re goddamn right she’s too good, she’s too good for any of this,” Ryan fumes.
“Don’t you mean she’s too good for you?” Sean gets in Ryan’s face, provoking him. “Finally seeing the forest for the trees, brother?”
I hear the whack before I even realize Ryan’s fist is flying through the air. He clocks Sean right in the mouth, putting him on his ass, and then he goes down after him.
Holy shit!
Sean and Ryan brawl right there on the floor, throwing one vicious punch after the other, blood splattering all over the shiny square table, white leather couch, and poor comatose Jill. It looks like a crime scene. In one great rush every guy in the room swarms them, eventually pulling them apart. Sean’s lip is bleeding and so is Ryan’s eye.
“Get him out of here!” Ryan roars, and it doesn’t even sound like him. His voice is hoarse and hostile, and I finally get a glimpse of Ryan from the past, the one who had to fight for his life every day for three long years.
Ryan rips his arms free from the two dancers holding him back, as Sean is dragged out of the room. Everyone is staring with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Ryan snatches my hand under the scrutiny and hauls me outside, dragging me down the dark hallway until we reach two steps that lead to another camouflaged door. Geez, there are secret entrances all over this building. He tows me inside then slams the door behind us, squeezing the shit out of my hand the whole time.
“Ryan,” I call his name as he bangs the back of his head against the door. “Ryan, please, calm down.” I place my hands on his shoulders, but he ignores me, instead standing there with clenched fists and a tense body.
“I can’t, Alana,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “He just makes me so fucking angry!”
“I know, but he’s gone, and I’m here.” I grip his shoulders. It’s scary to see him like this, but I know the only way to calm him down is to be cool and collected myself.
“Alana, just talk to me,” Ryan squeezes his eyes shut. “I just need to hear the sound of your voice.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want,” I speak soothingly, as I rack my brain for something to say. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “I want that bed.”
Ryan opens his eyes confused. “What bed?”
“The bed in the B and B. I love it.”
Ryan gapes at me. “What?”
“Yes, I love it, and I want one.”
“Okay,” he blinks blankly. I think my distraction may be working. I think. I wipe some of the blood away from his eye then slip my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “Are you okay?”
“No.” He heaves a heavy sigh, then slides his hands around my waist. “Shit.” He drops his head into the crook of my neck morosely. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For losing my shit. I never wanted you to see that side of me.” His voice is a tad calmer now.
“The badass side? Why not?”
“For the same reason I didn’t want you knowing I was in jail.”
“You’re ashamed of it?”
He nods, his silence oppressive.
“Ryan, it’s okay,” I reassure him.
“It’s not okay.” He snaps his head up, his stare suddenly juiced with electricity.
“Why isn’t it okay? You got angry. It happens.”
Ryan turns his head, breathing through his nose heavily.
I stare blatantly at him, but he refuses to look me in the eye.
“Ryan . . . ?” What’s really bothering him? The fact he lost his shit or is it something more? “You don’t believe what Sean said, do you?” I probe.
He frowns. “Sometimes, I wonder.”
“Ryan.” I grab his face and force him to look at me. “You are good enough. Don’t let Sean get in your head.”
“I’m a stripper, Alana.”
“That’s not who you are, and we both know it,” I argue sternly. “Nothing’s changed, not the way I see you, and not the way I feel about you. And Sean deserved that punch in the face, he’s been playing mind games all night. With me and with you.”
“What? Why didn’t you say something, Alana?”
“Because I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Besides, you have enough shit to deal with when it comes to him. You don’t need to add me to the rotation.”
“Fucking Sean,” Ryan gripes, dropping his head against the door. Bang. Bang. Bang. Once again. He better stop that or he’s going to give himself a concussion.
Ryan doesn’t speak, or move, or rip his eyes away from the ceiling. By the looks of it, we could be standing here ’til sunrise.
“I’m sorry I ruined Jill’s party,” he finally mutters after some time has passed.
“You didn’t ruin it. She was unconscious. She’ll never be the wiser. And if I know Jill, she’s going to be pissed she missed the action. I’m pretty sure she would’ve been the first one taking bets if she had been awake.”
Ryan snickers and hugs me tighter. I love that feeling. I love being close. I love no boundaries.
“Alana?” Ryan murmurs.
“Mmm?” I rest my head on his shoulder, content.
“You didn’t give me a straight answer.”
“A straight answer to what, Ryan?”
“To marrying me.”
“You’re right, because I don’t recall you ever formally asking me to marry you.”