Strip Me Bare

by M. Never

  “Columbia.”

  He perks up. “The city?”

  “Yes . . . you look happy about that.” I read his expression clearly.

  “I am. You’ll be close. Like, really close.” He beams.

  “And that’s something you want? For me to be close?” I fish.

  Ryan leans in close to face provocatively. I hold by breath. “Yes.”

  “You sound so sure,” I expel.

  “I am.” He’s overly confident, like he’s inflated with the stuff.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” I drop a bombshell of a question.

  “You don’t. Just like I don’t know if I can trust you. But I’m going on faith.”

  “Are you going to tell me where you’ve been the last five years?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to keep anything from you. It’s the first brick of me building back your trust.”

  “So, spill it.”

  “Will you sit on my lap?” he asks.

  “Excuse me?” My eyebrows shoot up.

  “Will you sit on my lap? I want to touch you.” He speaks slowly, deliberately, so I understand.

  “You can hold my hand.” I offer an alternative. No way am I climbing onto his lap. That’s a recipe for disaster just waiting to happen.

  “I want to hold your body.” His eyes flash and my insides stir. Oh, no.

  He hesitates for a beat before pulling me onto him, my legs dangling over one side of the chair. Decision made, apparently.

  Ryan slides his arms around my waist, locking me against him before drawing his eyes up to mine. It’s a vulnerable stare. My heart pinches.

  “Okay, so you got me where you want me, now talk.”

  “This is nowhere close to where I want you, but I’ll take it for now.” His velvety voice calls to me like a hypnotic melody. I remind myself to stay strong. I’m not a pushover, and I’m not going to let Ryan think some sweet words and a few public displays of affection are going to win me over. If he wants me, he’ll have to work for me. And work damn hard.

  Ryan inhales a deep breath before beginning. “Prison, Alana. I spent three and a half years in prison.”

  “What?” I try to shift on his lap, but he holds me tight. “Why were you in prison?”

  “Because of my brother.”

  “Sean? Why were you in prison because of Sean?” It doesn’t make any sense.

  “Because he’s a drug addict piece of shit.”

  “Ryan.”

  “It’s the truth.” He blows out some hot air, and the warmth skims across my collarbone, causing me to shiver. My reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. Ryan grips me tighter, forcing our contact to become more intimate. “He’s always getting in trouble. And sometimes he drags me down with him.”

  “So, what, you got popped with drugs or something?” I ask, dying a slow death his arms.

  “Not exactly.” His leg starts to shake. “You know I’m not from the best family. Mother’s an alcoholic, father skipped out when I was three. Drug addict sibling,” he recounts.

  “That never mattered to me.” I painfully remind him. Ryan’s background never once impacted my feelings toward him. If anything, it made me love him more. He was a fighter, never letting his shitty situation bring him down. He wanted a better future, and he wanted one with me.

  “I know. That’s why it’s so important you understand what I’m about to tell you.” He snatches my hands almost as if they’re his lifeline. “You know I would never lie to you.”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  “I mean it. I also told you I love my family, even though they’re a fucked-up bunch.”

  “Yeah, well, no one’s family is perfect.”

  Except maybe Emily’s.

  Without even thinking I wrap one arm around Ryan’s shoulders. He looks up at me with those indomitable blue eyes, the same flicker of hope resurfacing from before. I don’t want to lead him on. But God, he feels so right. We feel so damn right. “So, your family’s a fucked-up bunch . . . ?”

  “Well, that morning, you know after the cabana?” How could I ever forget? “I went to grab some coffee and breakfast for us. From that little café on the promenade you liked. It was early, and I was so amped up I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way back when I was pulled over. They said I was speeding. Maybe I was,” he rambles nervously. “I was anxious to get back to you. The cop ran my license, and before I knew it he was slapping handcuffs on me for an outstanding warrant.”

  “A warrant for what?”

  “Failure to appear in court.”

  “For what?” I shake my head.

  “A drug charge.”

  “But you don’t do drugs, or at least you didn’t?”

  “Nope, I didn’t and I don’t. But like I said, my brother does. And he’s been known to use my name on occasion.”

  “He impersonated you?” I gasp.

  “Yeah, scumbag. He’d only used it for little things before, misdemeanor bullshit, but that time he got busted for possession and used my information when he was arrested. He knows my social, my driver’s license number, not to mention he looks just like me. Remember, he’s my identical twin.”

  “So, why didn’t you tell them it was Sean who used your information?”

  “I couldn’t.” Ryan clenches his jaw.

  “Why?” I demand, outraged. “He stole your identity!”

  “Alana.” Ryan tenses, turning his head away from me. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then make me understand.” I trap his face and force him to look at me.

  Ryan feels so small now, not at all like the sexual powerhouse from last night or even the sexy, confident man who walked into Dean & DeLuca this morning.

  “Sean going to prison would have killed my mother. She begged me to help him.”

  “Help him how, Ryan?”

  “He would have died in jail, Alana,” Ryan expels hastily.

  The gears in my mind start grinding. “You did the time for your brother?”

  Ryan rests his head against my chest, and nods. “Sean’s been in and out of trouble his whole life. He’s emotionally unbalanced. He has anger management issues and is bi-polar. That environment would have killed him one way or another.”

  “So, you sacrificed yourself?”

  “What other choice did I have?” He shrugs.

  “You could have made Sean own up.” I offer one of many solutions.

  Ryan huffs, dropping his head back. “I was backed into a corner. I didn’t want my mom or Sean to suffer. I can’t change my decision. I can only regret it.”

  “Do you regret it?” I search his face.

  “Every goddamn day.” He looks me in the eyes a tortured man. His expression breaks my heart right in fucking two. Those years behind bars must have been agony.

  “You could have told me, Ryan. Sent me a letter, something.”

  “I couldn’t. I didn’t want you to find me. I couldn’t bear for you to see me like that. I’d rather have you think I was an asshole than some convicted felon.”

  “But you weren’t,” I point out.

  “I looked like one.”

  “Ryan, do you know what the last five years have been like for me? Wondering what happened to you?” My voice elevates, cracking with emotion.

  “I’m sorry I did that to you, Alana. It’s all I can say.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” I look away sadly, wondering if I will ever get over this gnawing pain. Ryan puts his finger under my chin to bring my face back to his, when something horrifying dawns on me. “Where was Sean’s warrant issued?”

  “Asbury Park.”

  Fuck.

  Asbury, which it’s also known as, has two sections. The eastern beach area with restaurants, shops, and a concert hall that is frequented by both tourists and locals alike. And the western side, away from the ocean, which is riddled with low-income housing, dilapidated buildings, gangs, and drugs.

  Asbury is also in my father’s court district.

 
; “Who . . . who convicted you?” I swallow the lump in my throat. There are several superior court judges who try criminal cases.

  Ryan clams up immediately.

  “Who?” I press.

  “Judge Remington.”

  I blanch. Of course, my father.

  This story just gets fucking better and better.

  My head starts to pound so loudly, it drowns out all the sounds in the park. “Is that part of the reason why you stayed away?” I rub my temples.

  Ryan nods.

  Holy hell, not even the creators of Law & Order could make this shit up.

  I’m confounded as I slowly sort out this overload of information. Ryan doing time for his brother, my father convicting him, me spending the last five years wondering what I did wrong, only to find out it wasn’t my fault at all. It was fate playing a cruel fucking joke.

  The world suddenly becomes a blur of delusion and reality.

  There’s an unexpected shift inside me. The ground shakes as the possibility of giving Ryan a second chance becomes suddenly real. Alarmingly real.

  I don’t know how to find the words. Expressing what I feel is challenging for me on so many levels, but I want him.

  I’ve always wanted him.

  I reach down and grab Ryan’s face, tilting it up to mine. He freezes under my stare. A blonde waterfall of my hair falls around us as I inch in slowly. Ryan petrifies under my fingertips. Without closing my eyes, I press my lips gently against his. He doesn’t move, not a muscle, as our mouths connect.

  He just lets me in. In his heart, in his head, and in his soul as he succumbs to my embrace.

  And I do the same. My feelings spiral out of control as he suddenly traps my head and kisses me harder, his tongue reclaiming what was once his. It’s the exact same kiss from the cabana . . . slow and torrid and full of love.

  “Can you stay?” Ryan asks out of breath and full of need.

  “Huh?” I answer starry-eyed. That was one sidewalk-singeing kiss.

  “Can you stay, in the city, with me tonight?” His sentence is choppy.

  “Um . . .” I blink out of my haze. “No.”

  “No?”

  I scurry off his lap. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why?” he demands.

  “Because.” I look down at my watch. It’s too soon. I don’t trust him, and after that little display I sure as hell don’t trust myself. “I have to go.”

  I have to flee!

  I turn and start walking away, fast. If I leave now I can catch the 5:07 home. Where it’s safe. Where I can find my fucking bearings. My fucking sanity.

  “Alana,” Ryan grabs my wrist and spins me around, “don’t walk away from me.”

  His stern tone irritates me. “You have no right to make any demands of me.” I yank my arm away, defeat on his face.

  “Why did you kiss me if you were just going to run?”

  “I didn’t plan on kissing you.”

  I didn’t plan any of this. I came to get an explanation, to put the past between us to rest and move on. I never expected to find myself forgiving him, which is frankly scaring the shit out of me.

  “I’m sorry for everything. Please, don’t walk away like this. Give me a second chance. I was just trying to protect you.” Ryan stands in my way.

  “From what? Protect me from what?” I’m at my wit’s end.

  “From me.”

  “What?” I burst, exasperated.

  “From the whole fucked-up situation.” He shoves his hands through his wavy brown hair and yanks it, hard. It looks like it hurts. “I didn’t want you to be involved, and I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

  “Maybe not, but it mattered to me.” He hits his chest. “It mattered to fucking me.”

  “You almost destroyed me.” My anguish bubbles over.

  “I almost destroyed myself!” he yells, gaining the full attention of everyone around us.

  “Calm down,” I hiss. The last thing we need is someone calling the cops about a domestic dispute. Not that that’s what this is. But Ryan doesn’t seem to have much luck in the law enforcement arena.

  “I’m trying.” Ryan sucks in deep breaths of air. “I won’t let you walk away from me.”

  My mouth drops open. “You won’t let me?”

  “I want to fix it. Fix us,” he stresses.

  Us? Good grief. What am I going to do with this man?

  “There is no us, Ryan. There hasn’t been an us for a very long time.” The words fillet me right open.

  “If you haven’t noticed,” Ryan grits his teeth, “I’m trying to remedy that.”

  “And how exactly do you think you’re going to do that? So much time has passed.”

  He lifts his hand to my face, but I can’t look directly at him. “By begging and pleading, and servicing you with mind-blowing sex.”

  My eyes dart straight to his.

  He’s serious. Fucking dead serious.

  I suppress an unwanted smile. Idiot hasn’t changed one bit.

  Ryan cups my face with both hands now, commanding me to look at him. “Alana, I’m going to take back what’s mine. No matter how long it takes. A day, a month, or a year, I won’t let you walk away from me.” He reiterates his words with an air of authority that pisses me off, turns me on, and gives me hope all at the same time.

  I’m so fucked.

  Ryan leans in to kiss me again, but I shut him down. “No. I need some time to think.” I pull my face out of his hands. “To sort things out.” I’m a fucking mess right now, my emotions are all over the damn place.

  Ryan pins me with an icy blue glare, a small frown playing on his gorgeous, sexy mouth. A mouth I now know I can have whenever I want.

  Dangerous.

  And I do want it. Even though it’s a hazard to not only my body, but my heart, and mind.

  I look at my watch. I really need to move it if I’m going to make my train. Not that I really want to leave Ryan. Ever again. But I need to hash out everything my brain is thinking and everything my body is feeling.

  “Will you walk me to Penn Station?” I ask.

  He nods, reluctantly.

  I start walking, but he grabs me mid-step and pulls me into his chest, clutching both of my wrists against him. My blood burns, traveling through my veins like lava. I can see exactly what he wants. His eyes give everything away. But I can’t stay.

  “I need you,” he pleads, insistently.

  I almost disintegrate right on the spot.

  “I need to think.” Overthink. Dissect. That’s what I do. I retreat into my own head until I get lost. Tonight, I’ll get lost in thoughts of Ryan. Righteous thoughts of what could possibly be. I’ll tip the scales until the thin chains in my mind can’t support the weight of day anymore.

  “Okay.” The word is shaky leaving his lips. He is really scared of losing me again.

  A few moments of a silence pass, an intense standoff, before Ryan finally releases my wrists. We head out of Bryant Park down Broadway toward the train, holding hands the whole way. As we walk, I can’t help but think about how surreal this day has been. One chance encounter has rearranged my entire world, and I don’t think anything is ever going to be the same again.

  I’m terrified, anxious, and apprehensive. Even with everything Ryan said, all the promises, and apologies, and declarations, I still fear he’ll pull another disappearing act.

  I believe everything he told me, but can I really place my full trust in him again? I’m not sure.

  Ryan and I make our way to Madison Square Garden with people coming and going in every direction. There’s an outside entrance to New Jersey Transit, which is where I need to go if I want to catch the train. I stand at the top of the steps, Ryan’s hands firmly around my waist.

  “When will I see you again?” he presses.

  “Wednesday,” I tell him. “I’ll be in the city looking at apartments in the morning, then I’ll have
the rest of the day free.” I pull a strand of blonde hair away from my face. Standing near the stairwell is like being in a wind tunnel.

  “Wednesday,” he sets the day in stone.

  “Wednesday.” I gather some courage and plant a soft peck on his cheek before I turn to leave. Ryan has other plans though. I barely take a step away as he grabs my arm and slams me into his chest. He kisses me, hard. Firm, possessively, resolutely. Right there in the middle of pedestrian traffic, and it’s the kind of kiss that slows time, increases heart rates, and brings a city block to its knees.

  Ryan exhales, breathing my name in rapturous torture, his eyes closed, his forehead planted against mine. Now I really need to leave, because my willpower is completely dissolving. One more second in his arms and I am spending the night in the city. Maybe the week. Possibly the month. Fuck it, my whole life.

  I glance at my watch. Time’s always hounding me. The train will be here in two minutes. “I have to go,” I whisper softly, wiping some of my lip gloss away from his mouth.

  “Wednesday,” he stipulates.

  “Wednesday,” I agree, finally turning to leave, mustering all the strength I have to walk away from the man who not once, but twice, shocked my world alive.

  “Alana!” Ryan calls and I turn on the stairs. “I’m not disappearing, not this time.”

  I look at him conspicuously.

  “Time will tell, Ryan. Time will tell.”

  “It will take an act of God to keep me away,” he professes in front of a thousand witnesses.

  I smirk, hopeful, as I disappear out of sight.

  I hop onto the train and walk the three stairs down to the lower level. I hand the conductor my ticket to punch then settle back in one of the light blue pleather seats. The tracks making a clicking sound as the train pulls away. I stare out the window daydreaming about Ryan. His hands, his face, his eyes, his lips. His voice . . . ‘I need you.’ Oh, I’m in such deep shit. He’s back in my life for one day, and I’m already hooked. I pull out my phone and text Emily. I need to see her.

  Me: Meet for dinner??? *praying hands emoji*

  Not a minute later she replies with a time and place. I know she’s salivating for details. And I’m salivating to give them to her.

  My phone dings again and five simple words taunt me on the screen: