"Yes, but I don't remember how old I was when I really understood that the books in the library were his. It was great growing up; he would tell us bedtime stories that he would make up as he told them. We realized later that it was his way of writing books and coming up with ideas for them. He would ask us questions as he told the story about what kind of adventure they should go on. He’d ask what the characters’ names should be, who the villain was, and how we thought the story should go. It was an interactive bedtime story. He always had a little recorder that he would carry around, and as he would tell us stories, he would record it. When he went to his office to write, he would listen to the recorder, typing it out like dictation," he says, with a sentimental look on his face as he remembers.
"That would be so cool to have a parent like that, a parent that was so involved with you. Then to see some of your ideas on paper! WOW! You are so lucky," I say enviously.
"Didn't your parents do anything with you growing up that you have fond memories of?" he questions.
"When I was real young, we would go to Seaside and walk on the beach collecting shells, and then when we finished, we would walk the promenade. Of course, we’d buy salt water taffy from one of the candy stores. They had a couple of venues there that we would go to. One had putt-putt golf and bumper cars, and the other had the video games or we would rent the surry bike, It was a lot of fun."
"When was the last time you were there?" he asks.
"Oh, at least six years ago," I tell him.
"You haven't gone since?"
"No, not since my mom died."
"Your dad never took you again?"
I start to stiffen. "No." I don't elaborate on the fact that that's when Hank started dictating where I went and who I saw.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you upset by bringing up your mom," he says, apologetically.
"It's okay. It’s been a long time; I just miss her," I say, trying to assure him. "Things just really changed after she died."
"How often do you go to see your dad?" he asks.
"I don't," I say curtly.
"Can I ask why? Isn't he the only family you have?"
"Yes, he is. My parents didn't have siblings, and my grandparents passed when I was real young. My f…f…father..." I couldn't finish, and tears start to pool in my eyes. I look away to wipe them off my cheeks before Ian sees them.
"Can I ask what happened? Every time we talk about your father you get... almost scared."
"I would prefer not talking about it... As I told you earlier, there are some issues that I have. I am trying to work them out. I would rather not ever talk about Hank again, okay?" I say abruptly.
"Yes, of course. I'm sorry Parker, I didn't mean to upset you." he says as he looks at me his eyes full of sincerity and rubs my hand again. I take a drink of my water to clear the lump in it. "Parker, I want you to know I am here for you. If you ever want to talk... well... I don't ever want you to be afraid to talk to me. I know we are just getting to know each other, but I want to. I will be there for anything you need."
"Thank you, Ian, that means a lot to me. I don't have anyone to talk to. Bridget, my best friend, is at WOU and we don't get to talk as much as we used to. "What do you do?" I inquire.
"I started out playing the stock market, day trader, I've studied the stock market for years. My parents helped me when I was younger. Taught me what I should look for and how to invest, and how to research a company before investing. Then with that money, I started to buy, sell, and reinvest in different businesses. It gives me the freedom to do what I want, when I want," he explains. "So when I am ready to start a family, I can stay at home like my parents did."
"Wow, that's incredible." I look at my watch, astonished at how fast the time has gone. "I should be going," I say, in an apologetic tone.
"Then let’s spend the day together tomorrow," he suggests.
I look at him in surprise. “Why? Why would you want to spend time with me?" I'm thinking, look at him, he could be with anyone he wants. All I am is just a small town country girl; I’m not sophisticated, educated, nor am I affluent. I have nothing to offer him. He could do so much better. I look up at him sadly.
“I don't know what you are thinking, but what drew me to you is what I see in you, you are sweet, shy, determined, and strong. You’re also hopelessly innocent, a little naive, and absurdly cute. You make me laugh. Then there is your laugh; you could light up a room! Your eyes sparkle; you are beautiful! Inside and out, but you also have a hint of sadness in you. That's what I have seen in the short amount of time I have known you. I want to know you more."
"I don't think I can. I really have enjoyed this evening, but there is so much... there are things in my past that I don't know if I can get over," I reply, in a voice that is almost a whisper, and look down.
"Please don't look down. I like to see your beautiful face." Taking his hand, he lifts my chin to look at him again.
I flinch at his touch. "What the fuck did he do to you?" he asks, his voice almost a demand.
I flinch again at his tone. "Who?" I quiver.
"I'm sorry I startled you. Whoever made you afraid," he states. "This isn't the first time I have touched you, and you have flinched! Are you afraid of me?" I look into his eyes, seeing a look of worry and anger.
"No, I'm not afraid of you. In fact, you make me feel safer than I have felt in a long time. I'm sorry," I say, as my eyes fill with tears. A single tear escapes, rolling down my cheek.
With his thumb, Ian wipes the tear away as he declares, "Don't apologize for having a reaction to what another person has done to hurt you, or made you feel insecure. I don't ever want you to be afraid of me; I'm sorry I frightened you. I would never hurt you, Parker. There is something about you that has me... mesmerized. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the first day we met. If I hadn't had an important meeting that evening, I would have run after you. I never thought I would find you again, Portland being as big as it is. However, we did meet again and again, and each time you ran from me. I meant what I said earlier about wanting to get to know you more. I know you feel it too; there is a connection between us." I look up at him and bite my lip. His thumb brushes my lower lip and pulls it from my teeth; I lick my lip and his breath hitches. He stares into my eyes. "I am going to take that lip and bite it myself... hard… the next time I see you bite it."
I gasp. Surprised, I raise my eyes to meet his. There is a ghost of a smile on his face, and his eyes are alight with humor. My heart slams into my chest. His mouth quirks up, as he stares appraisingly at me.
What is this? No man has ever affected me the way Ian has. I don't know why, but I want to find out what it is. I want something more in my life, something real. I want to know what it is like to be loved by someone. But can I risk it? I don't want to get hurt. Relationships are new for me. I don’t know what to expect.
"Ian, there is so much about me, about my past, that you don't know," I say as I play with my napkin looking down in my lap, "things that you wouldn't like." I look him in the eyes as I straighten my silverware on the table. "I've never been in a relationship before, and I don't know if I can risk getting hurt." I take another drink of water, "I feel like I am on an emotional tightrope as it is. I don't know if I can give you the kind of relationship you want and deserve." I look back down in my lap, "I’m afraid of not being what you want or need and you walking away, leaving me broken." Ian wipes his mouth with his napkin.
"I know someone has hurt you in the past. I see it on your face, and in your eyes," he leans over to me lifting my chin with his index finger. "but not all men hurt women. Trust me, Parker Dane, give me a chance to prove it to you." He is looking straight into my eyes like he can see my soul, my longings my dreams. "We can go slowly. I won't push you to do anything you don't want or aren't ready to do."
"Okay," I whisper, as I nod my head. It is against my better judgment, but I have never been in a relationship, and never had a boyfriend. I w
ant this. I long for this, for him. He is right; there is something about him. I feel it every time we touch. I can't be afraid of this; I need to start doing what I want. I know I have just met him, but I want to know what a real relationship feels like. I don't know why I feel this way about him, but I want to find out. Yes, I might get hurt, in fact. What am I talking about? I don’t even know him.
Ian takes my hands in his, pulling both of them to his mouth, kissing them. "Thank you." We should go," he says. We are the only ones left in the restaurant.
We stand up, saying our goodbyes to Beau, and leave.
Still holding one of my hands as we walk through the door, he stops and turns me to face him. He places his hand on either side of my face and looks deep into my eyes. "I'm going to kiss you now, Parker." My heart is pounding and I can hardly breathe, I'm not nervous, I want this, I never thought I would but I do, I smell the light scent of his cologne and feel his warm breath as he pulls my head forward, leans down, and brushes his warm moist lips over mine, sending a shiver down my spine. My first kiss! I think to myself. He pulls away, and my eyes are still closed. I slowly open them as I look up into his eyes and press my fingers to my lips. He looks at the expression on my face and his lip curls in a wry smile.
I repeat the words I had just said to myself, “My first kiss." And it was perfect.
He cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrow, looking at me with confusion.
"You have never been kissed before?"
Shaking my head, I whisper, "No, your kiss was my first."
"Well, then, I'm glad I am your first," he says. "Let me give you a real kiss you won't forget." With that, he leans over, this time wrapping his arm around my waist. Ian pulls me into his tall, hard, sculptured body, taking my mouth to his. He kisses me intently. Then with his tongue, he traces my lips as if asking for permission to enter. I open my mouth to him as he starts to caress my mouth with his tongue. I taste the sweet chocolate from our dessert on his tongue. His hands are in my hair, twisting and twining his fingers through my curls, pulling me closer to him. I wrap one hand around his neck, putting the other in his curly locks, pulling him closer to me, but feeling like I can't get close enough. I'm feeling light-headed; my heart is slamming against my chest. We pull away from each other, breathless. I raise my fingers to my lips, feeling them again; they're swollen, tingling from his day’s (I think) growth of beard. We look at each other, and I know I'm in trouble... I'm falling for him. It can't be; we just met. Besides, it's not like it will last long once he finds out my secret.
I feel my eyes stinging as a tear falls down my cheek. Ian looks at me, worry written on his face. "Shit... I'm sorry, Parker! I am so sorry!" He takes his finger and wipes the tear away. "I'm such a fucking idiot! I shouldn't have done that. I…I… just couldn't stop." I softly place both of my palms on his chest and look him in the eyes as he wipes away the last of my tears. "I just can't think when I am around you. You captivate me; I just can't... get enough of you."
I look into his saddened eyes, I move my hand to his cheek. "Don't be sorry! Did you feel me pulling away? Complaining?"
"No, but you're crying." The look of concern and worry still etched on his face.
"I'm not crying because I am upset, I'm crying because I never thought I would ever feel this way." As I stroke my thumb on his cheek. "I have always dreamed of feeling like this about someone, but I never believed it would happen." Pulling him to me, I lightly kiss him.
He breathes an enormous sigh of relief as he strums his thumb over my cheek and jaw, placing a kiss on my forehead. "I feel the same way."
"Parker Dane," he whispers, "what are you doing to me? You make me feel things I have never felt before, so whatever it is, don't stop."
"I could ask the same to you, Mr. Blake," I whisper back.
Ian holds my hand, threading his long fingers through mine as we begin to walk. "I'll walk you home," he says, in a low, quiet voice.
As we walk toward my apartment, his thumb unconsciously makes small circles over the back of my hand.
"My father is having a book signing at the bookstore in a couple weeks. Then afterwards, there is a party celebrating his new book. I would love for you to go with me. "
"Your father is Blake Jackson?" I ask, surprised.
"Yes, he uses Blake Jackson as his pseudonym. How do you know his name?"
“We just received several cases of his latest book for the signing."
"His publicist is making a big deal out of this book. If you aren't working, I would love to take you. My sisters should be there too."
"I would love to go with you, and no, I don't usually work on the weekends. What kind of party is it?" I ask. "I can't believe your dad is Blake Jackson! I've been reading his books for years."
"It's a simple cocktail party. It should be a lot of fun, good food, good music, and good company; especially if you accompany me."
"It sounds like a lot of fun. I would love to go."
When we get to my apartment, I almost laugh at the look on Ian's face when he sees where I live. "You live here?" he asks.
"Yes." I bump his shoulder with mine. "It's not that bad... I have to save where I can; it's just me, and I have to make it work. I don't have anyone to rely on, so if I have to go without or live in a dive for now, then that is a sacrifice I am willing to make. It's close to PSU, and it's cheap. Emphasis on cheap. I have no other place to go. Once I get out of school, I'll get a better paying job and will be able to get something nicer. But for now this works."
"Well, do you mind if I at least walk you up to your door to make sure you get inside your apartment safely?"
"No, I don't mind. That would be nice. Thank you."
We walk up to the security door, and I pull it open. "Your security door is broken?" Ian asks, shocked. When I turn to look at him, his hands are balled tight; he's livid.
"Yes, it’s been broken since I moved in. The property manager told me it would be fixed, but I guess it's not on the manager’s priorities list. That was one of the reasons that I moved here; most of the apartments downtown, in this price range, don't have security doors," I say. Ian walks me up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. I pull my key out, unlocking the door, and push it open.
Ian looks down at me. "Can I kiss you goodnight?"
I smile to myself as I think about our kiss outside the restaurant and how it almost went too far. I didn't want the first kiss to end but now he's asking for my permission? "Yes, you may."
He cups my cheeks, pulling my mouth to his as he slowly puts his moist lips on mine. I bite his lower lip, pulling it into my mouth, sucking it. I hear a low guttural moan from deep inside him, which makes all the butterflies in my stomach take flight. He grabs a handful of my hair, wrapping it around his hand, pulling my face up to his to get better access of my mouth. I can't believe how my body knows just what to do. I was so concerned about the first kiss, when there is a little temptress inside of me that comes out when needed. He's pressing me up against the wall with his hard body, his cologne permeates my senses I can feel his hard erection pressing into my abdomen. My panties are wet, and there's a throbbing between my legs that I have never experienced before. My arms are wrapped tightly around his neck as if I am hanging on for dear life, I hear another moan, higher this time, and I realize it's coming from me. He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up as I wrap my legs around his waist. He groans again, pushing me through the door, closing it behind him. He pulls his face from mine, searching my face, as if looking for an answer. I look back at him not wanting to break our bond.
He makes no move to pull me back to him; he just watches me, his breathing unsteady. "Should I apologize?"
Mutely, I shake my head. "You didn't just kiss me; I kissed you too."
"I know that, but it doesn't mean you’re not regretting it now."
"I'm not feeling regret. I'm feeling confused and off balance."
"You like being in control, don't you?" he asks.
<
br /> "Not of others, but of myself, yes, and this... I can't seem to control." I say.
"I can relate to that. So then... We'll go slowly, like I said earlier," he demands. "For now."
"For now? What does that mean?"
"It means until we speed it up."
"And when will that be?"
"When you’re ready." His knuckles brush my cheek. "Don't worry. I'll be able to tell. But nothing else will happen tonight. I told you slow, and I mean it."
I search his face. He is so different from boys in school, but he is confident. He cares about what I want and feel. "You're an unusual man, Ian Blake."
"Not really. I'm going crazy as hell to get inside you! But I have ulterior motives for my patience; I'm determined to make you trust me, and that's not going to happen overnight, especially if I rush you into bed."
Slipping my legs from around his waist, regaining my balance, I say, "Okay.” My God, I can't imagine that there is one single man that would just walk away from the possibility of sex.
He reaches out, placing a hand behind my head to caress the nape of my neck. With his thumbs tracing over my jaw, he gently pulls me to him as he places a soft kiss to my now kiss-swollen lips. "I will be here at nine tomorrow morning to pick you up."
I am still in a daze over his actions. "Okay."
He turns toward the door, reaching for the knob as my mind clears. "Thank you, Ian, for tonight. I had a lot of fun, and I enjoyed just sitting and talking to you."
"I did too," he says, as he turns to look at me. A magnificent smile appears across his face as his gorgeous dimple joins the smile. He winks at me, raising his eyebrows as he turns and walks out the door. "Lock your door," he says, over his shoulder. Then he's gone.
With a smile on my face, I get ready for bed. Snuggling down into my pillow I fall fast asleep.
Heart to Heart
Ian
As I walk home, I have time to think about tonight and try to put it in to perspective, she defiantly has an issue with her adoptive-father, the way she call him by his first name, it odd, it's a sign of disrespect. I would love to get the whole story on that but I have to be careful not to interrogate her; hopefully she will just tell me. I stick my proverbial foot in my mouth asking her if she does anything with adoptive-father. Obviously it is her adoptive-father that she doesn't want to talk about, but why? Then again, it doesn't take a psychologist to know there is a huge daddy issue.
Stolen Innocence Page 5
