“Oh yeah? I love surprises,” I whisper justbefore he kisses me; and it’s that slow, torrid kiss that makes myknees weak and my scalp tingle and my temperature rise.
He grabs my hand and drags me towards thebedroom. Okay, surprise later I guess? He opens the door and my jawdrops. I walk into the room awestruck, because there it sits. Thebed from the B&B at Culture; all abstract lines and romanticfeel.
“Oh my God,” I glance at Ryan and he’sbeaming.
“You said you wanted one.”
“Yes, I did.”
“So you love it?”
“Yes,” I respond, “and I love you.”
“Good. Because I love you too.” He walks upbehind me and spins me around, urging my body onto the mattress.“And I plan on doing things to you on this bed that will make RyanPierce just as infamous as Jack the Stripper,” he says, as hecrawls on top of me like the sexual prowler he is. Ryan kisses meassertively, possessively, running his hands all over my body,causing my mind to reel; I’ll never get enough of this man, and Ihope, deep down, he’ll never get enough of me.
Ryan pecks his way down my cheek and my neck,between my breasts and along my stomach, pulling up my shirt as hereaches my navel. His lips are warm and soft as he sucks on myskin, lighting desire within me like a match touching kerosene.Then he suddenly slips onto the floor, pulling my body with him, soI land straddling his knees. He props me up against the mattressand looks intensely into my eyes. Too intense, almost profound.
I run my hand down his face; worried he’sthinking about Sean. “Are you alright?” I ask.
It took Ryan months to cope with Sean’sdeath. He’s still not over it and I don’t think he ever will be.The two months after his passing, Ryan would cry in his sleep,muttering Sean’s name. It was heart-wrenching watching him wake upnight after night, broken to pieces. I was so worried I urged himto get some help; to talk to someone about prison and Sean and hisissues with his mother. So he did, and little by little thenightmares went away. He still has one now and again, but we weretold by the therapist that’s nothing unusual. It’s been a longrecovery process and sometimes I catch him staring out into spaceand I know his mind is with his brother, somewhere in the past.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been better,” heanswers.
“That’s really good to know.” I kiss himtenderly; thankful his response is a positive one.
“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” hesays with his mouth an inch away from mine.
I wince playfully, “I think you’ve told me atime or two.”
“I would tell you for the rest of your lifeif you’d let me.”
“You’ll have to ask one very pertinentquestion first,” I tease.
“Maybe I am,” Ryan says seriously.
“What?”
Ryan reaches down under the bed and pulls outa small red box, causing my heart to start pulsating like a speedbag.
“Maybe,” he pops open the box, “this time thepauper doesn’t end up on his ass.” He pulls the ring out and slipsit onto my finger, stopping at my knuckle. “Just maybe, he ends upwith the princess.”
My hand is shaking at I stare down at thebeautiful ring, it’s a sparkling emerald cut diamond on acriss-cross pave band.
I look up into Ryan’s eyes; they’re glowingfrom the pink sunset shining through the windows.
“Not maybe,” I say, pushing my hand forward,“definitely.” The ring fits perfectly on my finger. I stifle a sobas I throw my arms around Ryan, but I can’t stop the tears fromstreaming down my face in an even flow. “You have never been apauper to me.”
Ryan holds onto me tightly, breathing heavilyinto my neck, almost as if he’s fighting not to cry.
I take Ryan’s head in my hands and anoverwhelming feeling of sanctity grabs hold. “Do you have to leavesoon?” I breathe urgently against his mouth.
“No,” Ryan responds just as needy, and thenhe kisses me, lifting my body as he props himself up onto hisknees. I cling to him as he moves us onto the mattress, our lipsnever breaking. There’s barely enough time to get my pants past mythighs before Ryan is staking his claim on me; the hunger trouncingus both.
“Tell me you’re mine.” I strain as he circleshis hips and thrusts deep inside me. I just want to hear him sayit.
Ryan freezes, my words taking him bysurprise. “I’m yours,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes. “Ihavealwaysbeen yours.” Then he kisses me and it’s a long,deep, suffocating embrace that penetrates all the way to my soul.Suddenly time becomes nothing more than a fog of grasping andclutching and clenching and love as Ryan mesmerizes me like only hecan do; playing my body like a symphony. Every touch, every tasteand every smell is magnified as our bodies react, and then combustas hot as a fever.
I clutch onto the comforter breathless withRyan collapsed on top of me; both of us coming down from the high.I feel the ring shifting on my finger and I can’t help but smile.Ryan has always been the one. The one who challenges me, the onewho dares me, the one who makes me feel alive.