by M. S. Parker
I wasn't jealous of Emmaline, not after this past weekend and the way Rylan had looked at me, but her entitlement attitude and high school cattiness still made me want to punch that smug smile off her face. Or tell her about what an extraordinary lover Rylan was. Just to see the look on her face.
Christophe was only a little less annoying. He was constantly there, hovering around my office, asking me if there was anything he could get me. I appreciated the gestures and I didn't want to be rude to him since he'd never been anything but nice to me, but it was annoying to have to keep telling him that I was fine, that I didn't need anything.
I could've lied, I supposed, and told him that I was seeing someone. He had seen the flowers already. Well, telling him I was seeing somebody wouldn't have been a lie, but once he started asking about whom I was dating, that was when the lies would begin. While I was okay with keeping my relationship with Rylan quiet, I didn't want to start a whole web of lies that I'd have to try to keep track of. Aside from the fact that I didn't want that headache, I also knew it'd make things more complicated if and when Rylan and I went public. When, I told myself. It would be when, not if. He said he would wait as long as I needed, and I couldn't imagine opening myself up to any other man. It was him or no one. Not really a positive thought, but not exactly a negative one either.
At least my work didn't suffer. What did suffer was my level of sexual tension. There was only so much self-gratification I could take and, by Thursday, I was strung too tight for just my fingers to take care of. All day, I'd been debating whether or not to take the initiative and ask Rylan about his plans for after work, but then I'd gotten his text that Zeke needed him for something and he didn't know when he'd be able to talk.
I refused to be that selfish girlfriend who complained when her man wanted to spend time with his friends, especially when said friend already didn't like her. I sent a reply that I hoped everything was okay and that if he wanted to call tonight, it didn't matter the time, and if he didn't, I'd talk to him tomorrow at work.
Then I decided that I needed to go to the gym and work off some of this excess energy. Not too long ago, I would've hit a club or checked out one of the finals parties that were going on around campus, found some hot, horny guy and ridden him to an orgasm that now seemed unsatisfying. I wasn't even tempted to look for another sexual outlet.
The fact that I was so willing to change the habits I'd established over the last couple years spoke volumes. Rylan had called me his girlfriend and I'd been thinking of him as my boyfriend. He'd said he loved me. But, we hadn't discussed what that really meant. The kind of expectations we had of each other. What was our view of exclusivity? When would we expect the other to choose us over family? Not that I had that decision to make for myself, but it was one of those things I assumed couples talked about.
Yet another problem I'd been experiencing more this week as I spent less time with Rylan. He didn't just make me feel safe and give me toe-curling orgasms. He kept my mind from dwelling on the past, kept the questions from running over and over again in my head. When I was with him, I could live in the present and not worry about the future. For the most part anyway. My busy brain didn't like to give up much.
I headed to the bus stop after work. I'd need to stop home for better clothes to work out in, maybe grab something to eat. I shivered as a gust of wind came down the sidewalk. It was heading toward Christmas and the weather was starting to show it. We hadn't gotten our first snow yet, but the nights were definitely getting colder.
As I joined a few others in the bus stop shelter, I shivered again, but this time it wasn't from the cold. I turned, but there was no one behind me. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
I pushed the paranoia back. It happened from time to time. I'd feel like someone was watching me, but when I'd look, there would be no one there. The times when there were people caught staring, they'd generally look away, embarrassed, and I'd know that they were looking because of my hair or my tattoos and piercings. I didn't care about that. Hell, I expected it.
My therapist probably would've said that was the reason why I dressed and accessorized the way I did. Typical misdirection or something like that. Draw people's attention to the things I could control to prevent anyone from seeing the things I couldn't.
I hadn't taken any psychology classes in college. I didn't want to relive the memories I knew those classes would bring up. Instead, anything that I wanted to know about, I studied on my own. Probably how I knew what my therapist would say even though I hadn't seen her in years.
The bus was only a fraction warmer than the air outside, but now I wasn't thinking about the weather. I was working on keeping an eye on everyone who got onto the bus. I was about ninety-nine percent certain that I'd been imagining things, but I wasn't going to take any chances.
The feeling faded to the back of my mind when I reached my apartment and I ran up the stairs to warm myself up. I quickly changed into my usual workout clothes, grabbed a protein bar and some water. I ate standing up, stretched and then headed back downstairs. The gym I used was only a couple of blocks away from my apartment and a jog in the cold sounded like a good way to start my workout, as well as a good way to clear my head.
One of the things I liked about exercise and that had made me want to go the self-defense route rather than with weapons is that physical activity was one of the few things that could turn off my brain. The mindless repetition of one foot in front of the other, the steady thump-thump of my feet against the pavement, they were things I could use as a type of self-hypnosis to quiet the chaos.
I'd picked this gym not only because it was close to my apartment, but because it was small and everyone pretty much kept to themselves. If people wanted to socialize while they worked out, they went to the college gym or one of those bright, shiny ones where it was all machines and fitness instructors. Here, I showed my ID and they left me alone.
I'd already run and warmed up. Now, I wanted to hit something. I didn't do the whole spinning or Pilates thing. I was more of a tape up my hands and beat the shit out of a punching bag kinda person when it came to working out.
Since it was a weeknight, there were only a couple other people in the gym and they were completely absorbed in their own routine. I headed to my usual bag and started going through the warm up hits that I'd learned from my self-defense teacher. The sound of my fists hitting against the bag was soothing and I let myself fall into the rhythm. The moves were automatic, adding in kicks between every few hits.
By the time I finished, I was feeling much better physically. The sexual tension was still there, but it was lower now, much more manageable. I could probably have a full conversation with Rylan about work and not think about ripping his clothes off.
It was strange, I thought, how I'd gone from never wanting to sleep with someone more than once to not even considering sleeping with anyone else. I supposed my therapist would've said that, because Rylan made me feel safe, I wouldn't want to do anything to risk losing him. A part of me wished that was true. He did make me feel safe, and I didn't want to risk losing him, but that wasn't why I didn't want to have sex with anyone else.
In the past, I never thought about having sex with someone. It had always been about getting off. A guy was just the means to an end. I'd wanted the physical act, not the person. With Rylan, it was different. I wanted him. Yes, I wanted the sex, but it wasn't the release I craved. It was his body. The feel of his hands on my skin, his lips on mine. The taste and scent of him. It was a hunger inside me, a need that I'd never felt before.
And I was terrified.
He loved me. He'd said it and everything he did showed it.
I knew I cared about him, that I'd let him get closer to me than anyone, even Lily. I trusted him, which was huge. The question was, did any of that add up to love?
How could I tell him that I loved him if I didn't know what that meant? All I knew of romantic love was the entertainment version of i
t. Even my experience with platonic and familial love was limited to the short time I'd spent with Lily. What if I told him that I loved him and then realized that what I felt wasn't love?
But I couldn't love him. That wasn't allowed. I'd forbidden myself from letting anyone have that power over me, the power that being in love gave. So it didn't matter that I didn't know if what I felt was love because I'd never call it that.
I sighed as I climbed off of the bus. So much for clearing my head.
The moment I stepped onto the sidewalk, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I tensed and glanced around, but didn't see anyone. I hurried into the building and didn't relax until I was in my apartment with all the locks turned and the curtains closed. Even then, I still had a nagging feeling that someone was watching me. I checked the entire apartment, but it was empty. I sighed. I needed a hot shower and comfortable pajamas. Hopefully, by the time I was curled up in bed, Rylan would call.
Unfortunately, when I checked my phone once I got out of the shower, the screen was blank. No texts or missed calls. It wasn't exactly late, but I'd been hoping that whatever Rylan was doing with Zeke wouldn't take him that long.
I missed him.
The realization hit me.
I missed him. The sound of his voice. The way he'd chuckle at something I said. Hearing about his day.
Dammit.
I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands.
Even though I'd told myself not to, I'd fallen in love with him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There were people all around, but I somehow knew that no one could see us. We were hidden from everyone's sight in the shadows. He was behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. Though I supposed some of that heat was mine. I couldn't be near him and not feel like I was on fire.
His hands slid down my arms and then around my waist. I knew that if anyone looked up, they would see us here on the balcony, but I also knew that no one would. It was merely the suggestion of being caught that turned me on.
I leaned back against him, my head falling back on his shoulder. I turned my head, my mouth finding his as his hands cupped my breasts through my shirt. My nipples were hard, chafing against the soft cotton. I wasn't wearing a bra and the sensation of his hands moving over the thin material was making me wet.
“I want you,” he whispered in my ear. His lips moved down my neck, sucking on my skin until I knew I was marked. “And I want everyone to know you're mine.”
“No more hiding,” I said.
“No,” he agreed.
One hand slid beneath my shirt to caress my stomach and then up to my bare breasts. As his thumb brushed over my nipple, his other hand pulled up the front of my skirt. I was bare there too. No panties, just a thin layer of curls that his fingers skimmed through.
“Someone could see.” My protest was half-hearted. His fingers were doing magical things to my nipple.
“Let them look,” he said. His voice was low, possessive, and it sent a thrill through me. “But they better keep their fucking hands off. You're mine.”
His fingers moved over my clit, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure. I closed my eyes and let him have his way with me. I didn't care if anyone saw us. I only cared that he kept doing what he was doing.
Even as my climax burst over me, I became aware that our surroundings had changed. Sand was hot under my back and I could feel cool water lapping at my toes. I opened my eyes and he was leaning over me. His eyes were blazing.
“I love you, Jenna.” He stretched his body out on mine, the weight of him comforting.
“I love you, too.” The truth of the words was clear as I reached between our bodies and found him hard and ready.
He slid inside me and I was wet and open. Our bodies danced together on the beach, the sun pounding down on us as we made love. Our sweat-slicked skin slipped and slid even as the waves moved up our bodies, cooling us. It was more than sex, it was magic and hope and all of the light and good things I could never let myself think when I was awake.
I was sleeping. Dreaming. But it was too nice of a dream. I didn't want it to end. I wanted to stay here with Rylan, making love. I wanted to dream us into another time and place. A palace. A hotel suite. Some place romantic. Some place common. I didn't want it to end.
I held him close as another orgasm approached...
I jerked awake, my breath coming in pants. My entire body was tense, on high alert. I'd woken hot and bothered in the past, but this wasn't it. Something had woken me up, pulled me out of a dream that should've kept me going until morning. I took slow, deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart. I started to reach over to my bedside lamp, then froze.
A noise.
Had that been what woke me? It wasn't loud. Little more than a dull thump. It could've been any of my neighbors. Maybe one of them had knocked something over when they got up in the middle of the night. It was possible. Hell, I'd done it myself before. Knocked it off heading for the bathroom, and that's what had woken me up, then kicked it or something on their way back.
Yes, that was it. My neighbors and thin walls. Usually, everyone was quiet, but I couldn't fault an accident.
Still, I couldn't shake the icy chill snaking its way down my spine. Something didn't feel right.
The part of me that feared the dark reared its head, demanded I turn on the light, that only the light could chase away the monsters. Except I knew better. There were plenty of monsters who weren't afraid of light. I'd learned at an all too young age that the monsters who thrived in the light were often worse than the ones who hid in the shadows.
My heart was still racing despite my attempts to calm myself and I knew that the only way I'd be able to convince my paranoid imagination that I was safe would be to check the entire apartment. There wasn't much to check, but I wouldn't be able to start calming down until I did it.
I turned on the lamp, squinting against the sudden glow. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust, then looked around my room. It was empty, just the way I'd left it before going to sleep. I forced myself to swing my feet over the edge of my bed, my knuckles turning white as a gripped the side of my mattress. For me, it had never been something with claws and sharp teeth hiding under the bed, only people who wanted to hurt me. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, thankful I'd worn an over-sized sweatshirt to bed rather than my usual camisole.
“There's no one here.” I spoke out loud, my voice much more firm than I'd thought it would be. That was good. Maybe I could convince myself.
I bent down and looked under the bed. Nothing but the boxes I stored under there. They served the dual purpose of storage and making sure there wasn't room for anyone to hide. It also meant I wouldn't be able to hide under there if I needed to, but I'd made a promise to myself that if I was ever in a situation where hiding was an option, I wouldn't take it. I'd had enough of cowering in corners. I'd be smart about it, but I'd fight.
Once I cleared under my bed, I went to the tiny closet across from it. Like the space I'd just looked at, my closet was too packed to offer any room to someone bigger than a toddler. Still, I looked. The repetition of finding myself safe was as much a part of this ritual as the actual looking itself.
I turned toward my bedroom door. It was partially closed. Enough so that someone would have to open it to surprise me, but left open enough that I could peek into the hallway before opening it. I did just that and frowned. The short hallway was dark, as was the bathroom, but I saw a faint glow from the living room. If I left the curtains open, the moonlight could create that sort of effect, but I was pretty sure I'd closed them. I could've been mistaken. I had been pretty tired when I came in from the gym.
I glanced over my shoulder at where my phone was sitting on the table next to my bed. There was every possibility that the noise I heard came from one of my neighbors and that I hadn't closed the curtains in my living room. The goose bumps covering my entire body and the metallic taste of fear in my mouth
said someone was in my apartment and they had made the noise I heard.
It would be easy to gently close the door and lock it. Move my small dresser in front of it. Pick up my phone and call the cops. I could tell them to go ahead and break in if they needed to. Fort Collins police were great for getting to crime scenes in record time. They prided themselves on helping make CSU a safe school. That had been one of the main reasons I'd chosen to live here.
I knew if they came and it was a false alarm, they wouldn't fault me, not really. A young woman in her early twenties, living alone, no gun. I didn't have a history of calling in about nothing. I was employed and didn't have any neighbors making complaints about me. They'd chalk it up to a bad dream and a bit of paranoia. They might be a little condescending, particularly because of my appearance, but they were used to college coeds, which is what I was still young enough to look like.
I didn't want to be that girl though. I didn't want to be the one that the cops talked about around the station as being the hysterical freak who thought she saw the boogieman and called the cops. I was an adult. An educated, self-reliant woman who ran her own successful business. I'd spent the last nine years telling myself that I was never going to be a victim again. I wasn't about to let all of that hard work disappear simply because I was too scared to go out into my own apartment.
No one could've gotten in without me hearing it, I reminded myself. Someone could've picked the main lock, and even the deadbolt, but the chain lock was more difficult to get off. There were easier apartments to get into. Plus, a thief would have to be pretty desperate to break in here. Everyone in the city knew that these apartments were low-rent, mostly young families. Nothing really worth stealing. Granted, I had a lot of electronics, but there'd be no way for someone to know that.
Unless they'd been following me, I suddenly thought. I remembered how, earlier tonight, I'd felt like someone was watching me. What if I'd been right? What if it hadn't just been me freaking out? If someone saw me coming out of Archer Enterprises, carrying the laptop I took too and from work, they might've decided that I'd have more toys like that at home. I doubted anyone who worked at Archer had only a single laptop at their house. Well, maybe people like Emmaline and Christophe whose jobs were more of the office type, but it wouldn't have been that much of a stretch for someone to think that breaking into my place would be an easy way to make a couple thousand bucks.
