“Do you need anything?” he looks down at me.Merrick Remington has never let me want for anything. And I’venever had a problem asking for anything.
Except maybe one thing.
His love.
“No, I’m good,” I try to smile.
He nods, “Well, I’ll let you get back tostudying.” He turns and leaves without a hug, without a kiss,without so much as a goodbye. The door clicks and I just standthere staring, left cold, like whenever I’m in my father’spresence.
I hear Ryan clear his throat behind thecloset door and I immediately snap out of my haze. I swing the dooropen, and find him standing there with his arms crossed and anannoyed expression on his face. He steps out and brushes past me,and I know I’m in trouble.
“You shoved me in the closet?”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I step closer to him,but he backs away. His rejection hurts. “I just didn’t want to haveto deal with my father.”
“Deal with him how exactly?”
“He’s a complicated man, you know that.”
“I do, but that still doesn’t explain why Ihad to hide in the closet.”
I scramble for the right words.
“Who was I supposed to tell him you are?” Ishout, surprising us both. “Do you want me to lie or tell him thetruth? Because I don’t know which is worse, Dad this is Ryan myfriend, or Dad, this is Ryan my stripper boyfriend who, if youdon’t remember, you convicted five years ago on a drug charge.”
Those were definitely not the right words.“Trust me when I tell you Ryan, that him not knowing about you atall is the best circumstance for all of us.”
Ryan doesn’t respond, he just huffs, and it’sthis half-hurt half-pissed off sound that rips my heart right intwo.
“I’m sorry,” I rush, but Ryan just stalksaround the apartment looking for his bag. Once he finds it, hegrabs it and then storms out the front door, slamming it behindhim.
I jump a little from the sound.
Shit.
I’m alone, left staring at the door with myarms wrapped around myself, written off by the two men I love themost.
I feel a nudge, and then, “Alana?”
I lift my head slowly off my arm; I must havefallen asleep studying, because I’m propped up on the couch withRyan sitting next to me. When I rub the sleep out of my eyeseverything comes rushing back to me. Before Ryan can say anythingelse I launch myself on top of him and spew, “Ryan, I’m so sorry,that was a shitty thing to say. It wasn’t directed at you. It was adig at my father. I just-” I stammer, “I just got scared. I gotscared of losing everything.”
Ryan stares up at me soundlessly, an array ofemotions churning in his eyes. It makes me want to erase everypainful moment of his life, this one especially. I didn’t mean tomake him feel small or slap the stripper stigma right in hisface.
With his head in my hands I kiss himemotively and contritely. “I’m sorry,” I whisper between gasps ofbreath. Ryan is stone cold; which only causes my regret to magnify.I try to spark some kind of reaction. I don’t care if he yells atme, screams or cries, I just need some kind of response. Suddenly,he shoves his hands into my hair. His tongue invading my mouth,drawing me into a deep controlling kiss, while pulling at mystrands so hard there’s a sharp sting on my scalp. His forcefulnesstakes me by surprise.Holy Fuck.This isn’t the Ryan I know.This isn’t the confident sex god who isn’t afraid of anything. Thisisn’t the man who touches me adoringly and affectionately, whoreveres me like a priceless piece of artwork. This Ryan is seekingaffirmation; who wants to know if I’ll ever see him as anythingmore than just a stripper. As anyone more than a man my father putaway.
This is Ryan, stripped bare.
In one swift, unexpected move, he rips myleggings in two. I gasp as he deftly undoes his fly and pusheshimself inside me. Holding me tight he begins to move, urgently,systematically. One deep thrust after the other.
With one arm snaked around his neck, I bracemyself against the driving force. It’s unfamiliar and stern andmakes my head spin.
And I utterly love it because it’s withRyan.
“Alana, say my name,” his voice is commandingand slightly uneasy. “I need to hear you say it.”
I can barely think - let alone speak - as hetortures me with slow steady need, but I do as he asks.
“Ryan,” I gasp in blissful distress and heslams harder. “Ryan!” I cry out as he hits my spot; my wholebody tensing and shuddering as my orgasm shreds me apart. Ryanfollows right after me; stilling beneath me with a ragged,tormented groan. Lightheaded and breathless, I drop my head intothe crook of his neck; the two of us clinging desperately to eachother.