Strip Me Bare (8 page)

“Do you want to stay with white?” Ryan asks
with his head in the refrigerator.

“Um, yeah, that’s fine,” I answer, secretly
hoping he has a funnel. Being here, alone with him is making me so
freakin’ antsy. I walk over to one of the windows and get a bird’s
eye view of the city.

“You have a great spot,” I say as he hands me
a glass of wine.

“I know, I totally lucked out. Rent
controlled and a parking space.”

“Who needs anything more?” I tease.

Ryan leans on the windowsill then grabs my
hip, “I can think of one more thing I need.”

I shift uncomfortably away from him, “So
how’d you end up here?”

“I met Demi at the club. She was one of my
regulars for a while.”

“I thought you said she’s gay?”

“She is. But she was just figuring that out.
She would come in looking to get turned on, but the only people she
would check out were the other women.”

“So how did you end up roommates?”

“I answered her ad on Craigslist. I didn’t
even know. Small fucking world, huh?”

“Minuscule,” I laugh. “So where is she
now?”

“Paris, I think.” He cocks an eyebrow, “She’s
an international stewardess and usually gone. I don’t think she’s
due back until Saturday.”

“I see,” I meander around the apartment
looking at the photos on the wall and knick-knacks here and there.
I can’t seem to stand still, I feel like a caged lab rat. “What’s
down there?”

Ryan looks at the hallway, “The bathroom and
the bedrooms.”

I turn around and walk in the opposite
direction. So not ready for the bedroom, thank you.

“Alana, are you okay?” Ryan asks, noticing
how fidgety I am.

“Fine,” I take a sip of wine and saunter back
over to the window.

He watches my every move. Once I’m standing
next to him again he shuffles over so our bodies are touching.

“I love the way that feels,” he says looking
at the sunset reflecting off the skyscrapers.

“What’s that?”

“You, standing next to me. Like, really being
next to me. I missed that feeling.”

“I did too,” I confess.

“What do you want Alana?” Ryan asks me.

“With what?”

“With me,” he turns to face me, then pulls a
strand of my hair slowly through his fingertips.

“I want to take it slow and get to know you
again.”

He smiles, the sunset shining through the
window is lighting up his eyes.

“Good,” he leans down and kisses me and my
whole body ignites. At first it’s just a soft, sweet kiss, but it’s
apparent that both of us want it to be more, because before either
of us know it, our arms are snaked around each other, our bodies
pressed tightly together, our mouths open and hungry. Ryan walks me
over to the couch, our kiss never breaking. I think I might
suffocate if it did, because right now he’s the air. We fall back
onto the white cushions, Ryan shifts himself on top of me and I
love the feel of his body crushing mine. Things start moving fast,
and soon shoes and socks and shirts and pants are scattered all
over the floor. So much for taking it slow. Ryan starts kissing
down my neck, then over my chest and down my torso. My heart starts
pounding in my ears as he teases me right above my underwear line,
licking and sucking and caressing. Then I freeze when he goes to
slide them off.

“No, Ryan, stop.” I suddenly feel like I’m
standing on a cliff above the Grand Canyon.

“What’s wrong?” He picks his head up, “Too
fast?”

“No. Shit, yes.” I push myself up and scoot
out from underneath him. I’m suddenly bombarded with images of Ryan
with multiple women; touching him, caressing him, kissing him.
Ugh.
Insecurity drowning me.

I’ve only ever been with him, once, and one
guy from college that ended in total disaster. I have no fucking
idea what I’m doing or what to expect and my intimacy issues are
flashing red in my face.

“Ryan, I-” I rub my head, “I don’t really
know what I’m doing, and the last time we did this you disappeared.
I’m kind of fucked up in the trust department when it comes to sex
and men.”

“Fuck, Alana.” He pulls me into his chest,
“I’m not going anywhere and we don’t have to do anything if you’re
not ready.”

That’s my dilemma, my body is ready and
willing, it’s my head that needs to catch up. I feel incredibly
stupid. Here, the love of my life has been throwing himself at me
the last few days and I shut him down the first chance I get. He
told me he loved me not three hours ago, so why can’t I let him
in?

“Do you have to go home tonight?” Ryan asks
as he smoothes my hair with his hand.

“No, why?” I look up at him.

He shifts and then stands up, pulling me with
him. He leads me out of the living room and down the hallway
towards the bedrooms.

“What are you doing?” I pull at his hand.

“Taking you to bed,” he says as he opens a
door to the right.

“Ryan-”

“Just to sleep Alana, I just want to sleep. I
want to hold you in my arms and make sure you know I will be here
tomorrow. If you need me to rebuild your trust, I’ll do it one
morning at a time.”

I stop walking. How many times have I
imagined this? Waking up and Ryan actually being there.

I step into his room and it’s such a guy’s
space; completely different from the rest of the apartment. The
walls are painted a dark gray, his bedspread a navy blue. There’s a
pile of clothes thrown in the corner and a huge picture of an
artist’s pallet with smeared brush strokes and colorful paint
mixtures hanging on the wall. I love it. It’s so Ryan.

He crawls into bed and motions for me to
follow. He lies on his back and hugs me into his chest, his jaw
resting on my head. I could almost cry this feels so right, so why
did I tell him no?

“You were the only thing that got me through
those three years,” he confesses. “I thought about you every
day.”

“I wish you’d called me.”

“Me too,” he says, and I can hear the regret
in his voice. It permeates the room.

I think of Ryan locked up for a crime he
didn’t commit. Losing precious years he’ll never get back, and a
future that’s all but ruined because of his criminal record.

I hug him tighter, pity consuming me.

I watch the lights of Manhattan twinkle in
the darkness. Ryan is breathing deeply, a slow soothing rhythm, and
I know he’s asleep. Staring out at the nightscape, I realize I have
to make a decision. If I want Ryan in my life I’ll have to learn to
trust him. I’ll have to let go of the last five years and I’ll have
to accept his profession.

Ish.

Ryan the stripper,
Jack the Stripper.
How in the hell am I going to deal with that?

It’s going to be easier to get over my
insecurities, even though I’m not really sure who I am without
them.

But I want Ryan.

I’ve always wanted Ryan.

It just drives me nuts that half of the women
in New York City want him too.

I rummage around Ryan’s kitchen looking for
coffee. I finally find some Keurig cups on a top shelf. Black
Magic, thank God.

I pop in a pod and listen as the coffee
quickly brews. As I reach up into the cabinet for another cup I
hear Ryan calling my name. His footsteps are heavy against the wood
floor as he walks down the hallway.

“Jesus, Alana,” he runs his hands down his
face when he finds me in the kitchen.

I turn and look at him over my shoulder.
“Think I left?” I giggle. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms
around my waist, wearing only a pair of grey boxer briefs.

“For a second, yeah,” then he kisses my
exposed neck. My hair is pulled up into a bun on top of my
head.

“You look hot in my t-shirt.”

“Thanks, I didn’t think you’d mind if I
borrowed one.”

“You could live in it for all I care,” he
hugs me, still holding me from behind, and then steals a sip of my
coffee.

“Did you sleep okay?” It’s about the only
thing I can think to ask while his body is pressed up against mine;
I can feel every inch of him. Like, every, inch.

“Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in
five years,” he says, and I hide a smile. Is this really
happening?

“What do you want to do today?” he asks. I
pause, staring straight ahead at the white-tiled backsplash. Hmmm,
that answer can have so many possibilities. Taking a deep breath of
resignation, I turn around and look at him. He’s about six inches
taller than I am. His hair is a mess on top of his head, and
there’s just a hint of stubble growing on his chin. His features
are more mature now. But he’s still just as hot as he was five
years ago, maybe even more so.

I think about last night and the decision I
made. If I want Ryan in my life, I’m going to have to let him in,
no matter how terrifying that is. No pain no gain, right?

“I thought we could spend the day getting to
know each other,” my eyes gleam.

Ryan’s jaw drops, immediately catching my
drift.

“I’m cool with that,” his smile is so big I
can’t help but laugh. Without wasting any time, he starts to run
his hands slowly up my hips, as if re-familiarizing himself with my
curves; his touch is every bit sexual as it is sensual, and I have
a feeling this is going to be one hell of a day. My t-shirt catches
over his forearms, riding up as his hands travel over my torso,
over my breasts and around to my back. He doesn’t kiss me though.
He just stares. My whole body springs to life; every nerve, every
cell, every muscle. That’s Ryan’s effect, pure vitality. I place my
hands on his chest, looking down at the little scar on his left
peck. I touch it and he smiles.

“My little piece of you,” he says.

It’s the scar my cigarette left the first
night we met.

I kiss it and he groans. Then he grabs my
hand and yanks me out of the kitchen. I’m in his room, being pushed
onto the bed before I can think. He crawls slowly on top of me,
unhurried, predatory. Then he slides my t-shirt over my head,
exposing me to him. I lay there as he takes his sweet time
exploring my body; stretching every inch into a mile. It’s mind
bending that he can make me feel this aroused, this loved, this
worshiped with only the tips of his fingers. I don’t know how long
he’s at it, but I finally reach the point it feels so good it
starts to hurt. Ryan begins kissing me, and not on the lips or
cheeks or neck, but right where he left off last night, like he can
sense my need for release.

“Don’t stop me Alana,” he implores, his voice
throwing me straight into overdrive. I don’t say no when he pulls
my pink, lacy VS’s off. I close my eyes and tilt my head as he goes
to work, pushing me, building me, teasing me with pressure; finally
breaking me apart like I’m made of glass. I can’t breathe and I see
stars as the orgasm rips right through me.

Holy shit.

As I slowly come back down to earth I find
Ryan lying beside me; his head propped up onto one hand, and he’s
smiling. A huge shit-eating grin.

Cocky bastard.

“I could do that all day,” he moans in my
ear.

“I could let you,” I laugh.

“I want to be the only person who does that
to you,” he slides his nose up and down my cheek.

I bite my lip. “One thing at a time,” I tell
him.

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” he kisses me
compellingly and digs his hard-on into my hip.

A noise wakes me. It sounds like an alarm. I
pick my head up and see Ryan reaching for his phone. We stayed in
bed all day, and it was, amazing? Remarkable? Incredible? None of
these words really encompass it.

No sex, just
discovery.

Ryan shifts, kisses me on the forehead, and
then slips out of bed.

“Where are you going?” I ask groggy.

“Shower, then work.”