Release (9 page)

Eventually,
Jonathan was brushing his hands of the pizza crumbs.  “Ryann, I’m gonna
get going.”  Ryann looked startled, and was about to protest when Jonathan
continued.  “You’ve had a long day, and you’ll have another long day
tomorrow given that it’s graduation and all.  Get some rest.”  He
stood, and added, “Why don’t we go together?  That way you can see what
subways to take for when the fall semester starts up again.” 

Ayanna got up
too.  Ryann glanced at Jeremy, then back at Jonathan. 

Jonathan smirked
at the exchanged looks, then said, “We should probably leave around noon. 
Does that work for you?” 

“That sounds
great.”  She got up and began walking him to the door.

“You know what,
Ry?  I’m gonna get going, too.  Jonathan’s right.  You have a
nice visit with Jeremy, and I’ll see you tomorrow night.  We’re still
going out for drinks after graduation, right?“

“Yeah,
definitely...but you don’t have to leave.”

She gave her a
kiss and a hug, and whispered, “Have fun” in her sing songy voice.

Ryann’s stomach
was churning.

Ryann turned to
Jonathan.  “Thank you so much for stopping by, and for bringing the
dinner.  Really.” 

“You’re very
welcome.”  He smiled kindly.  Then he called over her shoulder, “Nice
to meet you Jeremy.  Give my best to Robbie, would you?”

“You bet. 
Nice to meet you as well,” Jeremy said standing near the sofa.

Jonathan looked
back at Ryann.  “Don’t stay up too late, ok?”  He glanced over her
shoulder at Jeremy, then back at her.  “See you tomorrow.”  Then he
turned and walked out.

Ayanna reached
her hand out.  “Wait up, Jon.  I want to talk to you about
something.”  She turned back to Ryann with a sparkle in her eye.  She
also called out to Jeremy.  “Bye, Jeremy.  It was great to meet
you.  I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”  Then she smiled at
Ryann, and said, “Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too.”

Ryann closed the
door, took a deep breath, and turned to face Jeremy.

Ryann looked at
Jeremy, and swallowed, her hands beginning to fidget.  Jeremy was standing
in front of the sofa, his thumbs hooked in his waistband, his stance
casual. 

But his eyes
were anything but.  They were thirsty, drinking in every inch of her, starting
at her red painted toe nails, then moving up her body, settling for a moment at
the juncture of her legs, then her breasts, and finally stopping when he met
her eyes. 

She felt as if
she’d just been swallowed whole in one big gulp.

Ryann blushed
and looked down.

“Do I make you
nervous, Ryann?”

“What are you
doing here, Jeremy?” she said in a disgruntled manner, looking up at him.

He began to walk
toward her.  She put up her hand to stop him.

“What are you
doing here?” she asked again.

He took a moment
and just looked at her.  Then said, “If you have to ask, then I apparently
didn’t make myself clear on Friday night.”

If
that
didn’t just make her heart rate pick up.  Along with the now familiar
sensation between her legs, she was becoming used to this normal occurrence
whenever he was around.  Her body had been in the desert for two and half
years, and it was apparently making up for lost time.  Her slick sex began
to throb.

She had to gain
a semblance of control over her body, so she mentally shook herself, and asked
the question that had been burning in her brain…even though she had a feeling
she knew the answer.

“How did you
find out where I had moved to in the City?”

He hesitated
only a moment.  “You’re a smart woman.  I think you know the answer
to that already.”  His eyes watched her.

“Jeremy, this is
exactly why this is a bad idea,” she sighed, all the while wishing he hadn’t
taken his mother’s position on the board.  “And for a number of other
reasons,” she muttered, and looked away.

He looked at her
intently, curious.  “What are the other reasons?”

She looked up at
him and said dryly, “Jeremy, it’s obvious you always get what you want, but I’m
not interested in being one of your girl toys.”  She could feel herself
getting flustered.  God, she hated that he did that to her.

“Friday
night…what happened…I’m not that kind of woman…who just…allows a man to do that
to her,” she blurted out, completely red in the face from embarrassment. 
“I’m sure you do that kind of thing all of the time, given your…prowess, and
the way you talked to me at the showing.  I mean, you didn’t even know me,
and obviously, the things you were saying to me…” she stuttered.  “Look, I
have no interest in being one of the many women you chase around on a regular
basis, okay?”

She let go of a
harsh exhalation, and stammered, “I think it’s best if we just… pretend Friday
didn’t happen.”  She knew Ayanna would be smacking her upside the head if
she were there.  She could hear her now. 
Just enjoy it!
she’d
be screaming.

He continued standing
there, his hands now in his pockets, examining her, his eyes beginning to
narrow.  Then he walked slowly toward her and stopped within a foot from
where she stood.

Ryann looked up
at him warily.

“Well.  It
looks like you have me all figured out, don’t you?”

Ryann continued
to look at him with uncertainty.

He stepped
closer, putting himself within mere inches of her body.  She could feel
his heat, smell his scent.  She steeled herself.

His hands were
still in his pockets, and he leaned in to inhale at her neck.  His voice
dropped low.  “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about for the last two
days?” 

He hovered at
her neck, and continued speaking.  “How I can’t seem to get you out of my
head.”  Pause.  “I’ve never chased a woman in my life.”

Ryann could hear
her breathing hitch.  Now that she’d heard him say it, that  didn’t
surprise her.  It was likely the other way around.  He was standing
so close, her nerve endings stood on end.

“And here I am
chasing you.”  Pause.  “Why is that, I wonder?” he whispered. 
He seemed genuinely disconcerted by the question he asked himself.

He slowly moved
his face to the other side of her neck, and inhaled again, still not touching
her.

Why aren’t
you touching me?! 
she wanted to scream.  It felt like her skin
was on fire, getting hotter and more sensitive as he continued to speak.

“Let’s clear up
a couple of your points, shall we?” he whispered, his mouth now near her
ear.  He stepped even closer, now pressing her lightly to the door, still
keeping his hands in his pockets.  This seemed to be his favorite
placement of her…up against the wall.

“Jeremy,” she
said shakily, “I don’t think –”

“Number
one.  You’re right about one thing.  I
do
always get what I
want.  And it seems,” he paused, “that I want
you
.” 

He moved his
face from her neck, and looked her in the eye.  She tilted her head back
quite a bit to reach his gaze, as if it was magnetically pulled there. 
His lids were heavy over his gorgeous green eyes, now darkened with resolve.

She
whispered.  “It’s obvious you could have any woman you want.”  She
looked down.  “Why do you want
me
?  I’m not a ‘sure thing’, I
can promise you that.”

He chuckled, and
finally took one of his hands out of his pocket.  He put a finger under
her chin and tilted it up to reach his gaze again.

“Ryann, I think
it’s safe to say that from the moment I met you, I knew you wouldn’t be
easy.  And that’s very...refreshing.”

Ayanna had said
the same thing.  She sighed.  “Jeremy, you’re not really interested
in me.  You’re interested in the challenge, the chase.  And I don’t
want –”

He interrupted
her, his jaw clenching, anger lighting up his stare.  “Number two. 
Since the moment we spoke to each other, you’ve had this preconceived idea of
me.  And I’m not exactly thrilled with the man you think I am.  I’ve
had my share of women, Ryann, for which I’m not going to apologize.  I’m a
very sexual person.  But I’m not indiscriminate.  I choose who I want
to be with very carefully, and much to your surprise, I’m sure, I’m not in the
habit of crowding beautiful women into corners at art showings to tell them
what I want to do to them,” he said wryly.  “You seem to bring out…a lack
of control in me…that I’m not quite comfortable with,” he said with a frown.

She was
momentarily speechless.  It was kind of sweet, what he just said, and she
allowed herself a tiny smile, raising an eyebrow.  “Maybe if I make you
uncomfortable, you should find someone else to…chase.”  Her smile became
wider. 

“Vixen.” 
Pause.  “Number three.”  His hand reached from her chin to cup the
nape of her neck.  “I agree that the circumstances surrounding the
potential issues with the Institute aren’t ideal, but…I’m confident a solution
will be arranged.”

Her back went up
and she could feel her face heating with frustration.

“But at whose
expense?  I’ve worked hard to get to this point.  This is the career
path I’ve chosen, Jeremy.  This has been my dream.”

“I understand
that, and I promise you nothing will jeopardize your future in that
career.  I would never in a million years ask you to give that up.”

 “You’re
working off the assumption that I want there to be…something… between us.”

“There already
is
something between us.  Don’t deny that you feel it.  You’re a liar,
if you do.”

As if he knew
that would piss her off, he squeezed the back of her neck, filtering his
fingers up into her hair and grasping a hold of it firmly.

“Number
four.  Friday night
did
happen.  And you and I both know we
won’t forget it.  I wouldn’t want to… Because do you know what else I’ve
been thinking about for the last two days?” his voice dropped to a captivating
whisper.

She wasn’t sure
she wanted to hear this.  The fact that he had his hand in her hair, her
head pulled back, and his body pressing her to the door, already meant that she
was a goner.

“I’ve been
thinking of you pressed up against the wall in your foyer, flying apart in my
arms, hearing that groan from the back of your throat when you were coming,
your eyes all glazed over.”  He smelled her neck again.  “And your
scent,” he paused.  “You smell so warm, and rich.  Like dark,
succulent berries.”

Then he shifted,
and forced her to meet his eyes.  “But that’s not what’s fueled my
fantasies since then…Do you know what it was?”  Pause.  “Your
taste.  God, I want to taste every inch of you.” 

He licked his
lips as if savoring each word.  Seductive.  Velvety. 
Sensual.  Her mind went to chocolate.

Ryann was
turning to mush again, and little whimpers began to escape as he tasted the
center of her neck along her throat nibbling to the other side, sinking his
teeth into the flesh where her neck and shoulder met.  “Smooth and soft.”

Her hands were
resting on his forearms, as she watched his dark hair at her throat.  Her
neck felt like it couldn’t hold up the weight of her head anymore.  She
let her head fall forward until her forehead hit his chest. 

One of Jeremy’s
arms reached around her waist while the other reached further up into her hair,
where he released her clip, tossed it on the floor, and watched her wavy hair
tumble down just past her shoulders.

He buried his
nose and his hand into her tresses.  “This is the first time I’ve seen it
down,” he murmured.  “Mmm, so sexy.  It looks like wine and
chocolate,” he said noting its auburn color.  Then he began to massage her
scalp.

That’s when she
knew she was toast.

Was there a
woman alive who didn’t love their scalp to be massaged? 

Instinctively,
she began to move her head, subconsciously directing where she wanted him to
apply pressure.  She moaned.  He continued massaging while angling
her head up so he could look in her eyes.  They were heavy lidded, and
unfocused.  His tone was husky.  “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she
purred, beginning to drool.

She could swear
she heard him chuckle.  “Good to know.”

Before she knew
what was happening, he picked her up in his arms, and began walking.  She
came out of her daze and held onto his shoulders.  “What are you doing?”
she asked, feeling a moment of panic.

She tensed, and
he smiled, saying, “We’re just going to the sofa.”

“Why does that
not make me feel any safer?” she asked.

“Because you’re
a smart woman.  And you know, that eventually, I’ll be fucking you on just
about every surface I can find.”

Her heartbeat
skipped a beat, and her sex clenched.  But, she responded, “You’re such an
arrogant ass.”

He shrugged
charmingly, “
Confident
ass.”  He winked. 

She smirked,
until he said, “But right now, I have something to show you.”

She raised her
eyebrows, and nearly choked.

He smiled that
lazy sexy smile.  “That’ll happen eventually, too.  I can promise you
that.  But not tonight.”

She frowned with
mild disappointment.

He flopped down
onto the sofa with her, then he placed her next to him on the sofa.  While
he was reaching down to the floor for the paper bag he’d brought, she looked at
the bulge in his jeans, and he noticed her eyes latched onto him. 

He froze, then
cupped her neck so she was forced to look him in the eye. 

He licked his
lips.  “Unless, of course, you
want
that to happen tonight.” 

He leaned in
close, holding her face still so she was forced to acknowledge his perusal of
her face, her mouth. 

“Are you wet for
me right now, Ryann?” he asked quietly.  “Tell me.  Tell me that
you’re drenched, and you can’t wait for me to touch you again, like I did
Friday night.  I want to feel you come again.  This time around my
cock…feel you clench around me, milking me dry.”

She took a deep
breath, smelled his musky scent, and tried to calm her erratic
breathing.  

“When you’re
ready, Ryann….And know that I’m counting the moments until you are.” Then he
added, “And if I’m going to make it through this conversation, I’m going to
need you to keep your eyes up here,” he said half-kidding, pointing to his
eyes.

“Sorry,” she
mumbled.

He nodded, and
leaned down to the paper bag on the floor, pulling out a blood red iris. 

It was
gorgeous!  Her breath caught in her chest.  She had never seen one
that color before.  It had some striations of purple and orange leading to
its yellow center, as well, and it was absolutely breathtaking.

She looked at
him in awe.  “It’s beautiful.  How on earth did you find one so
unique?  I usually only see white or purple ones at the florist.”

“Do you like
it?” 

“I
love
it.  Irises have always been my favorite flower, but I don’t know how on
earth you could have known that.”  She continued to look at his gorgeous
face in amazement.

“Confession
time.  When I walked into your house on Friday night, amidst some of the
boxes, I saw a painting of a white iris on the floor, leaning up against the
wall.  It was a watercolor.  Was it one of yours?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she said
a little embarrassed.  She had done the painting after Brent had given her
a white iris after their first date.  She had told him of her love of that
particular flower in passing, and that had been his gift to her the second time
they had gone out.  The painting was of that flower.  Her painting
was very quiet in mood, done in a pastel background, with the white flower in
the forefront.   When she and Brent had gotten married, he had
insisted that she hang it in the bedroom of their new home, and she had
acquiesced.