by Shelia Grace
“Jolene.”
“Alexis Jo?”
She scowled.
“See! I told you. Jolene was my mom’s obstetrician when I was born. Obviously my mom was still under the effect of major drugs.”
I laughed.
“And what would you do with your life if you had complete control and you didn’t have to worry about money?”
“Hmm, I would … rewrite my favorite books and movies so that they had happy endings.”
“Interesting choice.”
“I’m obsessed with miserably depressing shit. It’s a character flaw. I think it’s because my brain wants to fix it.”
“You could write your own stories.”
She grinned.
“Yeah, that would be my second choice.”
“Favorite color?” I asked her.
“Don’t have one.”
She paused, studying me.
“Maybe blue. Okay, my turn. … Why did you kiss me that first night at Shorenberger?”
“Because I had convinced myself that I had the thinnest of excuses to do it.”
“But Brit gave you her number and practically humped your leg before leaving class.”
I laughed.
“And I didn’t give a shit, because I had spent the entire time imagining peeling off your jeans.”
Alex gulped.
“You did not.”
“In the interest of complete honesty, you, Alex Reed, have transported me back to the hell of being eighteen years old.”
She quirked an eyebrow at me.
“Thanks.”
“Let me clarify. The hell of being an eighteen-year-old male whose blood supply is being perpetually diverted from higher cerebral functioning.”
Alex cracked up.
“Perpetually?”
“Perpetually.”
Her cheeks turned pink, and I reached out and took her hand, placing it lightly on the source of my discomfort. She didn’t move her hand, but her features turned serious.
“I’m sorry … and you think that eighteen-year-old males have the market cornered on horniness?” She frowned suddenly. “Oh shit! When is your birthday? James said it was this month.”
Her hand left my cock, and I stifled a groan of disappointment.
“You have the most random of thought processes, you know that?”
“Birthday—when is it?” she demanded.
“The twenty-seventh.”
“And why didn’t you tell me?” she cried.
“Remember what I just said about higher cerebral function?”
“Yeah, and my higher reasoning is about spent,” she giggled. “You’re tough on the old willpower.”
Still smiling, she leaned forward and kissed my jaw. Then she pulled back and stared at me, like she was waiting to see what I would do. I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to be virtuous. Because this was not part of my plan. The plan had been to maintain my willpower until at least tomorrow.
“Was it like this with everyone else you slept with?”
I let out a startled laugh. Her question managed to put a minor dent in my hard-on, and I wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. The look on Alex’s face wasn’t recriminatory in any way, just curious.
“Like what?” I asked, trying to keep my tone diplomatic, not exasperated.
“Well, I don’t know what it was like for you, but …” Her use of the past tense caused my chest to tighten since I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. “Well, like James said, I don’t have anything to compare to. You do.”
I exhaled.
“Alex, part of me wishes I had met you five years from now when you had more experience.”
Her expression changed.
“You mean after I had slept with someone else. Which means you regret being my first.”
I grabbed her hand.
“I don’t regret one second of being with you, but I wanted to give you time to grow and learn without me getting in the way—”
“You mean without you.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing by walking away from you. And maybe I was, and maybe I’m being selfish now, but I never want to lose you again.”
She started crying all over again, and I reached out and wrapped her in my arms.
“When we made love for the first time—”
She sniffled.
“Aren’t guys supposed to say when we fucked?”
“Only if the guy is an insecure asshole.”
She smiled crookedly.
“Oh, okay. I guess you’re not an insecure asshole.”
“Most of the time I’d like to think I’m not. My point was that being with you is very different. It isn’t just recreation with you. I feel closer to you than anyone else.”
“Me, too.”
I reached out and touched her cheek, and she leaned into my hand. When she turned and kissed my palm, the unexpected feel of her lips set my skin on fire. I took her face between my hands and brought my mouth down on hers, growling when her lips parted immediately. As I tasted her, she was already reaching down and pulling up my shirt, running her palms over my chest. I slipped her shirt over her head and kissed the tops of her breasts over her bra before unfastening the back and drawing the straps down her arms.
When her hand fell to the front of my jeans, I closed my eyes as her fingers skimmed over my length through the pants. She undid the belt and slid down the zipper, her small hand slipping between the waistband and my skin. I felt myself surge against her.
With her other hand, she pushed me back on the bed. I wanted to be nobler than this, but rational thinking wasn’t a possibility when she gripped my cock and stroked all the way to the head. She did it again, and I watched, hypnotized, as she circled the tip with her fingers. Then she gripped the base again, pausing to look up at me.
“Damn. You didn’t bring any condoms, did you?” she asked with such disappointment that I nearly laughed.
I sat up, about to strip off my pants and grab the condoms from my bag. Then I hesitated. Was this a test? Did she think I had only brought her here for a quick fuck before disappearing again? Slowing my breathing, I took her chin in my hand.
“This isn’t why I brought you here tonight.”
She grinned slyly.
“It isn’t? Then why did you bring me here, Professor Bennett?”
“I brought you here because I’ve never felt this way about another human being, Alex,” I said quietly, reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek. “And I warned you what would happen if you called me Professor Bennett one more time.”
She blinked. She may have forgotten, but I hadn’t. I watched as realization dawned in her eyes. Her cheeks flushed even more, and she shook her head.
“You were kidding,” she gulped.
“Does that mean you don’t want me to spank you?” I asked, leaning toward her and taking her face in my hands, brushing her ear with my lips.
Pulling back, I looked at her. The pink lips, long dark hair streaked with red, bright green eyes, ivory skin.
“Tell me, Alex. Tell me you want me to spank you.”
Her eyes were wide, and she didn’t move.
“I … I want you to spank me,” she said slowly.
She was shaking as I took her hand and pulled her off the bed, adjusting my raging hard-on as I buttoned my pants and led her over to the sofa. I placed her hands on the arm before unbuttoning her tight little jeans and sliding the zipper down. Pulling them all the way off, I stripped off her panties next and rose up to stand behind her.
“Bend over, Alex.”
She hesitated. Then, gripping the side of the couch, she bent forward. I didn’t know how it was possible, but staring down at the creamy skin of her round little ass, I was harder than I had been two minutes ago when her hand had been firmly wrapped around my cock. Taking a step back, I watched as she tensed.
“Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
She turned her head and looked at me, her eyes glittering.
“Hurry up and spank me, Professor Bennett.”
I pulled back and let my hand come down swiftly, stopping so that I barely touched the skin. Her muscles were tense, and I groaned, raising my hand again. When I let it fly this time, my hand connected with her skin just hard enough to make a satisfying smacking sound. Alex gasped and then moaned, and I bent down until my mouth was at her ear.
“Do you think you can come like this, Alex … or do you need to feel my finger on your clit?”
She let out a desperate mewling sound, and I pulled back and slapped her ass again. And again. The skin had already begun to turn pink and warm to the touch, and my hips rocked forward. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining what it would feel like to slip inside her as she came.
Bending forward, I brought my hand around to slip between her legs. Tapping the bud of her clit cruelly with my middle finger, I bent her deeper and slid my other hand over her ass—lower. She was so wet as my finger slipped into her pussy. I began pushing in and out as I stroked her clit with my other hand. She was trembling, and when her legs gave out, I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her down, I stalked across the room toward my bag.
I had said this wasn’t why I had brought her here, but I hadn’t been crazy enough to get caught without protection. Ripping off a condom, I stripped out of my jeans and boxers and walked to the bed where Alex lay, cheeks flushed, as she stared up at me.
I wanted her to remember this night for the rest of her life.
I wanted her to remember it as the night before I asked her to be my wife.
Chapter 37
Alex
I tried to slow my breathing, but I was aching. I wanted him too much. As he walked toward the bed, I realized that Ryan was too perfect. Even the scars—the one at his brow and the one at his jaw—only made him more incredible to me. His sculpted jawline, not too square, not too sharp, and his impossibly blue eyes, darkened with desire. His bronzed skin, broad shoulders, and the strong muscles that made up his tall frame. Complete with the golden hair, he was more beautiful than anything my imagination could have come up with on its own.
When he came down over me, I felt more exposed than ever before—and not because he had just spanked my bare ass. It was because for once I wasn’t running away. Opening myself up to him was riskier than anything I had ever done. Before Ryan—before tonight—I had always carefully calculated my emotional risk at every turn, and I had taken the easy out with everyone. It had protected me, but it also left me alone.
Ryan watched me carefully as I reached to touch his cheek. Then his lips met mine, and the tension melted out of me. It was such a strange feeling, knowing that neither of us was pulling away. Right or wrong, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was on equal ground. I wasn’t second place—I felt loved without qualification or hesitation.
Equal.
Ryan rose up on one arm, cupping my cheek in his other hand as his eyes searched my face. Slowly he bent his head to mine and nipped my lower lip before bringing his mouth to mine again. I gasped, the possession of his kiss taking me by surprise as his hand traced down the side of my neck.
I expected him to be quick. Instead, he kissed his way down my body, and when his lips touched my inner thigh, I shivered. He ran his hands all the way down my sides before taking my knees and urging them farther apart. At the feel of his breath on me, I closed my eyes. Then his tongue touched me. I arched against him until he gripped my hips he held me completely still as he began to stroke me slowly. I shook my head. It was too much.
“Please.”
When he stopped and raised his head, I opened my eyes and looked down at him.
“Let go,” he growled.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Because I’m not going to stop until you come with my mouth on you.”
His tongue caressed over me again, gentler this time. I whimpered, and he began sucking, stroking, teasing me until I couldn’t catch my breath. My head fell back on the sheets, and I squeezed my eyes closed, each stroke of his tongue sending me higher until I lost control, my muscles clenching over and over.
Ryan rose up, and I watched breathlessly as he rolled on a condom and came down between my legs, grasping my hands and bringing them above my head as he kissed my neck below my ear. He guided himself between my legs and then pushed slowly until he filled me completely. Pulling out, he watched me as he thrust in again. When he released my hands, I wound my arms around him.
His eyes never left mine, and my cheeks flushed deeper. Then suddenly he was lifting me to my knees and turning me in his arms. Lowering me slowly onto his length, he gripped me around the waist and slid his other hand down my stomach, his finger stroking me as he began to rock me up and down. When his touch sped up, I moaned, the tension building to the point of pain. My head fell back against his chest, and he didn’t slow until I cried out again.
“Yes,” he whispered.
He drew me all the way down and growled my name as I felt him come. Then he held me close as we sank onto the bed, his lips pressing against the back of my neck as our breathing slowed. I locked my hands with his, loving the fact that when I woke up in the morning I would be in Ryan’s arms.
“I love you, Alex.”
Rolling over, I stared at the empty bed. The light was blinding, and for several seconds I forgot where I was in time and space. Irvine? The dorm? The hotel on the coast? With a jolt, I sat up in bed and saw Ryan sitting in a chair across the room, fully dressed, clean-shaven—gorgeous.
Fuck. My mouth went dry and adrenaline spiked painfully through my veins. The only thing I could think of was that first morning I had woken up at his house—the look of guilt on his face. I searched my memory of last night. Had his experience been so different from mine? Suddenly I was livid. What the fuck? I had been so sure last night that we had finally gotten past the regret and indecision. Hell, I had let him spank me. When Ryan laughed, I wrenched the sheet up around my bare chest.
“This is not at all the way I pictured this,” he said, suddenly way too amused for my taste.
“How you pictured what?” I snapped, reaching over and grabbing my T-shirt and yanking it over my head before scrambling around on the bed to find my underwear.
He rose from where he was sitting and started walking toward me. It took me several seconds to realize that he was holding a black box in his hand. I froze, my eyes riveted on his face. When he kneeled down at the side of the bed, I started breathing too fast. It felt like everything had just tipped horizontal. Then he opened the box.
“Ryan?”
“Alexis Jolene Reed, will you marry me?”
The color drained from my cheeks.
“Are you pregnant?” I sputtered.
He laughed.
“I’m eighteen,” I added seriously.
“I know.”
I closed my eyes, took a breath, and tried to imagine in ten years being married—to someone else. Touching someone else. Kissing someone else. Then I started crying.
“Alex?”
Opening my eyes, I stared at Ryan.
“Yes, I’ll marry you … in five years. First, let’s live together, okay?”
I expected him to look disappointed. Instead a grin broke out on his face. He took my hand and slipped the ring on my finger. I looked down, a little stunned that it fit.
“Wow.”
That was all I could manage, seeing as I was still sure that I was going to pass out—or wake up—at any second.
“Is that good or bad?” he asked with a smile.
“Good,” I choked.
I paused and looked up at him. Emeralds surrounded the enormous diamond. I tried to figure out some logic to it—because emerald wasn’t my birthstone.
“The emeralds …”
“Match your eyes.”
I swallowed.
“I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience,” I smiled weakly.
Ryan frowned.
<
br /> “Are you okay with this?”
I wrapped my arms around him.
“God, I love you.”
He swept me off the bed and carried me into the bathroom, where he set me down and turned on the shower. I pulled off my shirt and watched as he stripped off his clothes.
“Do you think we’ll leave the room before we check out tomorrow?” I asked.
Smiling, he pulled me under the spray of hot water.
###
We did leave the room—eventually. Ryan took me to a breakfast place with gingerbread pancakes and poached pear. Then we walked around Golden Gate Park before finding a quiet spot to lie in the grass. Enjoying the feel of cool, spiky grass, I looked up at the sun shining through the green canopy above us. We were quiet for several minutes before he turned toward me, leaning on his elbow.
“This is perfect,” I sighed.
Lifting my hand, I stared down at my ring. I was engaged—to Ryan Bennett. But, just like that, I felt reality begin to leak in like clouds that weren’t supposed to be here.
“How did you get the ring?”
“Becca’s friend is a jeweler. She owed me a favor.”
I paused as I thought about the timeline.
“This morning?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Ryan smiled sheepishly.
“No. I called her when I realized I had made one of the biggest mistakes of my life … so pretty much right after I left your dorm two weeks ago.”
A rush of anxiety and excitement washed over me as I thought about having to tell other people—that I was engaged … at eighteen. Julie would die. Rachel wouldn’t believe it. Brit—who the fuck cared? My family, though. Ryan’s family.
“You do realize that we’re going to have to tell our families, right?” I swallowed. “Wow. I’m not even sure who’s going to be more flipped out—my mom or yours. It might be a tie.”
“If I had done everything that made my mother happy, I would be married to someone I didn’t love by now. And you’d still be suffering through pre-med coursework,” he reminded me.
“You’re right, but I can practically hear everyone saying, ‘Are you fucking crazy?’ Can’t you?”
Ryan brushed my hair away from my eyes.
