Chasing Alys

by Morgana Bevan

  Ryan’s fingers smoothed along my bare skin, sending sweet electric heat coursing through my veins. His warm hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs playing with my nipples again and making me gasp.

  Things were still moving far too slowly for my liking. He’d tempted me for days and now he wanted to go slow? Not likely. I turned him until his back was to the bed. One light push and he fell onto the mattress with a laugh.

  “You’re impatient tonight, I see,” Ryan said, his voice raw with need.

  “I’m always impatient. I just have a strong will.” I lowered myself to his lap. Ryan’s hands gripped my hips, grinding my centre along his length. We both groaned at the first flutter of friction.

  “I’m aware, Red,” he muttered, the words hard with emotion I couldn’t read. Before I could really question it, he rolled us, using his body to pin me to the bed.

  Pressing my hands into the sheets, he dragged the tip of his erection along my slit, making my head swim. My hips restlessly lifted, urging him to move things along. With his face buried in my neck, he smiled, but when his eyes met mine, there wasn’t an ounce of laughter in those blue depths.

  “If tonight is all I get, we’re going at my pace and I’m going to savour every second.” The heat and passion evident in his tone stirred my already aching senses.

  Fingers danced over the curve of my hip, eliciting a shiver as they dragged down my leg. His hand slid up the inside of my thigh, grazing me. I jolted in ridiculous surprise then pushed into his touch, desperate for any release.

  Ryan’s knuckles stroked between my legs, and I arched my hips to give him better access. His hand stilled, and my groan was a mix of frustration and shameless begging. His face hovered above mine, watching with a smug smile softening his edges.

  “Stop teasing.”

  The bastard just chuckled and repeated the action. I growled.

  Mercifully, sweet fingers slid against my clit and my eyes drifted closed. Ryan’s lips met mine, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip in a kiss that bordered on feral. He thrust two fingers in and out of me, sparking electricity along my nerve endings as my body adjusted.

  My head fell back against the bed, breaking the kiss, too focused on the sensations riding me. His fingers stilled and I moaned in disappointment.

  The sound of a foil wrapper drew my head up. The heat of him covered me seconds later, and butterflies set flight in my stomach.

  The head of his cock nudged against me before sinking in an inch. Or at least that was the aim. My body had other ideas and tensed. And not because I was busy talking myself down from more serious feelings. Ryan froze, staring at me with concern. I bit my lip to contain any grumbles of pain and focused on relaxing.

  “Fuck, Red. You’re tight.”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “How long is ‘a while’? We should have talked about this.”

  The tightness eased a little, the bite receding. “Couple of months.” My legs wrapped around his hips, urging him on. He slid deeper, groaning before grinding to a halt.

  “Ryan!” I cried.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The concern in his eyes put another chip in my defences, but I couldn’t stop myself softening towards him.

  “This always happens. Just go slow for a minute.” I didn’t plead. Okay, so maybe I did a little.

  His brow still creased, Ryan rocked slowly against me, driving deeper each time until I’d taken him all. His eyes remained fixed on me, tension of a different kind taking over his features. I smoothed out the lines with my fingers.

  “Now who needs to relax,” I joked, smiling up at him.

  My hands drifted down his back to grip his butt. I urged him on, but his pace didn’t alter, and it was my turn to frown.

  “You’re sure I’m not hurting you?” he repeated.

  “It didn’t hurt to begin with.”

  “Red.”

  “It was just a bit of discomfort. It’s gone.”

  Ryan relaxed, my words seeming to soothe some of the concern away. He didn’t speed up.

  “Move. Faster,” I bit out.

  He grinned, and the speed increased, building the pressure low in my belly. Harder and faster, he drove into me. I clung to him, my face buried in his neck, completely surrendering to the waves of sensation sweeping through my body. The sound of our harsh breathing was all I could hear. Tingling raced up my spine just before the pressure cracked and I came. Ryan followed seconds later.

  He collapsed above me, burying his face in the pillow. We both struggled for breath, our pulses racing.

  I could have that every night if I gave in. It could all work out fine. With my eyes fixed on the ceiling, I didn’t even flinch at the wayward thought.

  Ryan shifted, lifting himself off me. He disposed of the condom and crawled back into bed, collapsing on the mattress at my side. His fingers drew lazy circles on my stomach, studying me without question.

  “You know, I was actually in Scotland this summer,” I said, my tone very mellow and my gaze fixed on the ceiling.

  His fingers stilled and fabric rustled. Ryan’s breath caressed my face. “Tell me it wasn’t Glasgow.” Disbelief dripped from his words, and I turned my head to catch a glimpse of his crestfallen face.

  I chucked, shaking my head. “Highlands. I’m surprised you didn’t know, seeing as you’re such good friends with Shaun Martin. Mona even went on that trip with me.”

  “I’m definitely regretting helping him pack up his flat,” Ryan muttered. “I knew he was in Glasgow briefly, but that was just to convince Mona to take him back. I didn’t think…”

  “Friends these days.”

  He grunted. It was a sound that would make the most serious person laugh.

  I patted him on the chest. “Aw, poor music man.”

  His crystal blue eyes focused on me. The annoyance faded, replaced with unchecked curiosity.

  “If I’d actually introduced myself on set that day, would you have looked me up when you were in Scotland?”

  My immediate instinct was to shrug it off with a flat “who knows,” but the hope in his eyes gave me pause. I bit my lip and considered it instead. “I guess it depends.”

  “On?”

  “On whether you did exactly what you just did, or if you were just a cocky rock star.”

  “Let’s say it would have been more or less the same. Would you have?”

  Admitting it scared me, but thinking about the thrill of the last few days, I couldn’t hide from the truth.

  “Yes.”

  Ryan’s smile was soft but triumphant. His kiss was gentle, too gentle for a fling that would end when the sun rose.

  Had he asked for more in that moment, I’m not sure I would have been able to say no.

  Chapter Twenty

  I woke to the sound of paper crinkling in my face.

  For a moment, I just lay there, allowing my brain to accept reality. Ryan had snuck out in the night without saying goodbye. Given that my head was buried in his freezing-cold pillow, I knew he was long gone.

  I felt curiously numb. I mean, I should have expected this, so there was little point in getting annoyed. We’d scratched the itch. Now it was time for life to resume as normal – without a musician popping up at unexpected moments.

  Forcing my eyes open, I tried to read the note beneath my nose. All I could see was a blurry white blob, unsurprisingly. Sitting up, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, hesitating to pick it up.

  What are you waiting for? It won’t bite!

  Taking a deep breath, I grabbed it and read the two-line explanation:

  Had to get home fast.

  Thanks for last night. Ryan x

  I flipped the sheet over, checking for more. I knew it was a pointless action, but I still checked the thing over a couple more times. Only scratching an itch.

  I balled the paper up in my clenched fist.

  An irritating burning sensation started behind my eyes. I blinked rapidly to put a sto
p to the developing moisture. I would not shed tears over him or the situation. I’d known what I was getting into. I refused to cry when I was the idiot who ignored her instincts.

  The tough love didn’t help, so I lay back down and buried my head in the pillow he’d used. I didn’t cry pathetically into it or try to memorise his scent.

  Without raising my head, I swiped my phone from the nightstand, only turning to check the time. I had an hour before my alarm went off. Part of me wanted to wrap myself in the duvet and wallow, but I categorically would not allow myself to give in to the thoughts that came with wallowing.

  Instead, I forced myself out of bed and threw on my running clothes. I considered texting him, even sat back down and stared at his last message for longer than I should have. Then I may have stripped the sheets in a bit of an aggressive fit and thrown them to the corner. Men.

  My swift run around Pontcanna Fields didn’t help erase the night either. I spent the entire hour reliving every touch and begrudging the lousy sixth sense I seemed to have about these things. I knew Ryan was going to leave, and still I’d let myself be swayed.

  No, that was wrong. I chose to give in to him. No one made me sleep with him. I knew the risks. I’d wanted him. If anything, I’d swayed him.

  I gave myself too much credit believing I was strong enough to not get attached. Too bad it took us sleeping together to realise I was already attached. I’d come to rely on the surprises and his smiles. Damn, that was a bad idea.

  I got home to find Emily making breakfast.

  “You’re making a habit of this running thing,” she muttered as she plucked bread from the toaster. “Tell me next time and I’ll come with.”

  Grunting, I set about making a smoothie.

  “Promise I won’t bitch about it that much.” She was chipper today. It was too much for me.

  I turned the blender on before she could make another comment. By the fifth pulse, Emily caught a whiff of my desperate need for silence. She turned towards me with a quirked brow and waited me out. Our blender was too good. It obliterated the frozen fruit within a minute. My time was up and I wasn’t ready to face her, or anyone for that matter. One glimpse of sympathy and I was liable to crack.

  “Jared texted. Marable’s support act dropped out,” she said, her tone careful. “The guys got called in to cover the German leg of the tour.”

  I poured my smoothie into a container and said nothing. Outwardly, I was the picture of nonchalance, or so I hoped. Inside, the pieces were slamming together, and it wasn’t a pleasant sensation. He spent two weeks chasing me and he couldn’t see fit to tell me any of that?

  The whole thing made my heart hurt and my blood pressure skyrocket. It had just been one night. I’d told him that. But then Emily was just messing around with Jared and he’d taken the time to explain his situation. Even if I’d woken up this morning convinced that was it, why would Ryan think skipping out in the middle of the night wouldn’t hurt me?

  Really, I’d been right to resist him. He was a rock star looking for one night and now he was on the road for god knew how long.

  I took my shake and locked myself in my bedroom before Emily could comment further. I wasn’t ready to explain any of it.

  All weekend, Emily tried to get me to talk, but each time I opened my door, I could see it – the pity. She wanted to help, to be my sounding board like always. Only this time felt different. I didn’t want to get drunk. I didn’t want to rant and rave about the actions of idiot men. I didn’t want to cry it out. I wanted my tear ducts to stop working, to stop threatening me every time a wayward thought about Ryan popped into my head and made me smile for a second.

  I needed to be alone without constant knocks on the door or pings from my phone. I couldn’t solve the concerned flatmate issue, but I could do something about the insistent notifications. I turned my phone off for the rest of the weekend – a dangerous move, considering I had a crew in France, but needs must.

  I sat at my desk nursing a cup of tea when Gemma walked in on Monday morning.

  “Geez, why are you here so early?” She collapsed into her chair and immediately clicked her monitor to life. “They’re on their own now. There’s not much you can do from here.”

  I smiled but continued plugging in flight details for the next leg of filming. I hadn’t spoken to anyone today, didn’t trust myself to keep it together if I had to produce words.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Gemma swivel towards me with her lips pursed. She studied me for almost a minute. “Why do you look like your cat got run over?”

  I smiled again and shook my head. Already, I could feel my eyes starting to prickle.

  She gasped. “Oh God. Tell me your cat didn’t get run over?”

  “No pets,” I whispered. It was a pitiful whisp of sound, but I’d spoken, so that was achievement number one for the day.

  Gemma’s horror transitioned straight to pissed. “What did your rock star do?”

  My head snapped up to meet her sharp gaze. I’d taken care with my appearance and hidden my blotchy skin beneath a layer of my best foundation, pulled my hair back into a mermaid plait, and I made sure to wear my nicest blouse and skinny jeans. I looked good. I knew I did. But clearly, my disguise wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped.

  Her face softened with sympathy. “You’ve got the haunted look in your eyes. I know it well.”

  I cleared my throat. “He didn’t do anything. We just crossed wires.”

  Gemma winced. “That sucks. I’m sorry, lovely. If you need to take a day, I’m sure I can cover you.”

  I was shaking my head before she’d finished her offer. “I’m good. I-I need to be here.” I stared at her, my eyes begging her to not ask again. She nodded, understanding clear on her face.

  We got to work. I could feel her studying me at various points throughout the day, but I ignored it. All I needed was work and the challenge of pulling off a three-episode European shoot in two weeks.

  Around lunchtime, I turned my phone back on. It exploded with a stream of unread messages. I had to silence it and bury it under a pile of papers until it finished loading. I left it there until the end of the day, comforted by the fact my team would call my desk phone if something urgent came up.

  I didn’t even look at it when I left the office for the night. Gut instinct told me I needed to be shut in my room before I went through them. Either there would be a load of messages from Ryan, or there would be zero. I wasn’t sure which would hurt more.

  Once at home, tucked into my bed, I allowed myself to look. The relief was palpable when I opened up the notifications and saw his name. And then I got angry at myself for feeling relieved. Just because he sent a text didn’t change the fact he’d snuck out, but the response it created told me far too much. I’d fallen further than I’d thought, and that wasn’t okay.

  I skimmed the updates from my team confirming they’d landed and the odd text from my father. Someone had introduced him to Pretty Little Liars, and despite his horror that a teenager could fake her own death and terrorise people, he was fascinated. Every couple of weeks I’d get random messages of appreciation from him. Apparently, I was an easy child in comparison.

  For a moment, it made me feel lighter, reminded me that no matter how much something hurt, there would always be a reason to laugh.

  “Ryan says stop ignoring his texts,” Emily announced the next morning over breakfast.

  We were trying to make a habit of eating together when we could. This was the first day, and if each meal was going to be accompanied by comments about Ryan, it would be the last.

  I schooled my features and ignored her sly glances. “Dad asked if you’re coming to Christmas dinner.”

  “That’s like asking if Santa Claus wears red.”

  “I told him as much.” I held my teacup to my face, enjoying the heat of it against my skin.

  She pouted. “I’m not allowed to be jealous of my parents travelling, right?”

  “I�
��m pretty sure your mother would say something about earning it with all the years she spent chasing you around the village.”

  Emily’s lips twitched. “Too right.”

  The upbeat tone didn’t last. I was just about to put my plate and mug in the dishwasher when she piped up again.

  “You know, Rhiannon’s Christmas gig in Glasgow is two weeks Saturday. You could come with me,” she said, her tone casual and not like she was suggesting I sit in a car with her for eight hours to spend one night with a man I really needed to forget.

  “I’m good,” was all I said before I got the hell out of the flat.

  By Thursday night, Emily’s daily reminders had pissed me off enough that we’d started snapping at each other. A combination of annoyance and suggestion had me opening Ryan’s texts.

  An endless stream of messages loaded, and I scrolled back to Saturday with my heart in my mouth. Some of them were snippets of lyrics – his, I assumed. The rest were blatant apologies and attempts to get my attention. Some of them made me smile and others had me burying my face in the pillow while I breathed deeply.

  Saturday.

  Ryan: Sorry I had to leave so fast. Meant to call earlier but haven’t stopped moving. Did you get my note? x

  Ryan: On tour so I might be hard to reach. x

  Ryan: Are you ignoring me, Red?

  Ryan: Please don’t.

  Ryan: Seriously. Talk to me.

  Ryan: I’m sorry. I should have stayed. Please talk to me.

  Ryan: If you tell me last night was enough, I won’t believe you. I swear I’m going to be dreaming about it until I can kiss you again.

  Ryan: Red!

  Sunday.

  Ryan: Jared’s driving us crazy. Really need a distraction here. Help.

  Ryan: Last night’s show was off the charts. Wish you were here to see.

  Ryan: I’ll be your friend if that gets me a reply. Promise, no trick.