Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

  Oh God, what if I had another panic attack? Please, don’t let me embarrass myself. Well, more than I already had.

  Ian sat across from me. He seemed entirely at ease, drinking wine and smiling at me. Then again, he’d done this dozens of times. No, probably hundreds, going by the paintings.

  I gestured to the hearth. “You know, fires give off negative ions, which is actually a positive thing. They make people feel—”

  “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

  I sighed. “A bit.” No point in denying the obvious.

  “Nothing’s going to happen without your enthusiastic participation. We can just talk if you like.”

  “Thank you.” I bit the inside of my cheek, gathering courage. “But what if I want more than conversation?”

  There, I’d said it. I waited in agony for his reply.

  For a long time, Ian said nothing, studying me. I steadily met his gaze.

  “Then I’d be happy to oblige you.” His nostrils flared.

  Oh, yes, his voice had gone deep, dark, and rumbly. And I could feel it like a caress.

  Dammit. Those pesky butterflies were at it again.

  “New experiences are always a little nerve-racking for me. I’ve never been the adventurous type.” My mouth was dry, and I licked my lips. Ian studied the movement. “I’m more of a ‘research it from every angle, do a practice run’ kind of girl.”

  “I’ve always appreciated your thoroughness, Darcy. Mind if I move over there?”

  “Sure.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Something was going to happen any second now.

  “First, we need to discuss a couple of items.” Ian sat beside me on the couch.

  “Okay.” I could feel the heat of his body.

  “This is a complicated situation.”

  “I know.”

  “And this isn’t a relationship of equals.” I glanced up to meet his gaze. “Darcy, I like you, and I want you, but there’s a power dynamic I can’t ignore. I’m your professor, and next year I’ll be your supervisor to boot. Which is why this decision has to be up to you.”

  Aw, hell.

  Now I had to sit here and think about it. It’d be much easier to stumble into his bedroom and worry about the fallout later.

  “I know it’s a big deal.” I should make my apologies and run out of here. Sure, it’d be awkward for a while, but it’d blow over eventually.

  “Yes, it is, so say the word, and I’ll drop it. We’ll never discuss it again…”

  Did I want to ignore the attraction? Pretend like nothing happened? The thought of not being around him, touching him, made me ache.

  But what if this situation blew up in my face?

  Then I’d be stuck as his grad assistant for an entire school year. Or what if someone in the English department found out? Ian could lose his job. There were so many variables to consider.

  “Darcy? Tell me what you’re thinking.” His shoulder brushed mine, and I pressed my hands together to keep from reaching toward him.

  “What’s going on between us exactly? Is this a casual thing? Something more?”

  “Not a bloody clue, pet, but I’ve fancied you for ages.”

  We’d both been dancing around this for a while. The thought made me all warm inside.

  “I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year.”

  “Perhaps it’s best not to overthink it? If you’d like, we could give it a go and see where we end up.” Ian shifted even closer.

  A thousand doubts flitted through my mind. There were no guarantees. This attraction could go horribly wrong, derail both our careers. I could wind up alone and brokenhearted.

  And then I felt the panic rising again. Oh no, please.

  I couldn’t even hide in a bathroom this time. Everything around me felt surreal. All I could focus on was my shallow breaths, the clamminess of my hands. The fear and despair were overwhelming.

  “Darcy…?”

  “I should go.” Grasping the arm of the couch for support, I stood on shaky legs.

  “Why? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m having a panic attack.” The room closed in on me, the walls looming.

  “Let me help.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m fine.” I started for the door, but I was dizzy. And if I left his apartment, I’d be stuck on a crowded sidewalk feeling like this. The stimulation would be way too much.

  Yet I didn’t want Ian to watch me struggle through the fear, either. Moments like this were infuriating. All of this was in my head, yet I had no control over it.

  “No, you’re not. I know what it’s like to battle my own impulses, and I’m going to help you through this, okay?”

  I hesitated a moment, then nodded. Not like I was in a position to have a debate about it. So I slumped back down on the couch, resigned.

  “Breathe.” And then he took my hands in his. “Come on, take in a deep lungful—that’s it.”

  I inhaled and held it.

  “Good, now let it go slowly.”

  I inhaled and exhaled, concentrating on the sensations—my heartbeat slowing, my lungs deflating. His touch grounded me, gave me something to hold on to.

  “I’m here with you. I won’t let anything happen.”

  His coaching helped. We breathed together in and out—our cheeks bulging out like two campus chipmunks gorging on acorns.

  Gradually, I calmed down, the panic ebbing in the wake of his soothing manner.

  Afterward, I collapsed against the back of the couch, relieved. But I could also feel the heat rising in my cheeks, making my face burn with shame. How awkward. I’d come over here to seduce him or be seduced. Something like that.

  And I’d ended up unleashing my full-on crazy. Right now, I’d like to crawl under the couch or scurry out the door.

  Then Ian threaded a hand through my hair, and my eyes slid shut, relishing the simple caress. The feeling was so intense, I had trouble processing it all at once.

  “Darcy, I can read your expression. Don’t be self-conscious.”

  “I’ll try.” It was easier when I didn’t look at him.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Yes, but… No.” I groaned. “This is mortifying.”

  So much for my attempt at a femme fatale vibe. I’d bet none of Ian’s pretty painted ladies went bananas right before they did the deed. He probably thought I was a basket case, and…hey, he wasn’t wrong.

  “Look at me.”

  I did.

  “You aren’t the first person to struggle with a…”

  I winced. “Go on, say it—a mental illness.”

  He sighed. “You aren’t even the only person in this room to have one.”

  “Your insomnia? It’s hardly the same thing.” At least his condition didn’t creep up on him in public places. No, he got to go through it alone, in the safety of his own bedroom.

  “No, pet, I haven’t been all the way honest with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have bipolar disorder.” He pulled his hand away.

  “Oh.” My mouth slid open in shock. I hadn’t seen the confession coming.

  “Yes, oh. The doctor diagnosed me when I was twenty—about your age.”

  “I’m sorry.” And here I’d thought panic attacks were horrible and inconvenient.

  “Me too, but you can’t fight biology—believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “Yeah, I got the very same memo. But it’s been a while since I had a psych class—refresh my memory on bipolar disorder.”

  “It’s a bit of a two-edged sword.” He leaned back, so we sat side by side. “It started at the university. Half the time, I’m Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic. King of the world, right?”

  I nodded.

  “It was incredible—painting all night, then off to class in the morning like it was nothing. I’ve never had so much energy before. And I shagged girls left and right—they loved me, and I adored them.”

  “Sounds terrible.” So much sarcasm
in my tone.

  “Not at first, but then it took a turn. I wasn’t using condoms. I could’ve fathered a child or passed on a disease. And I had sex in public places, where I might be caught.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yes, I made a lot of poor decisions.” He shook his head. “At the time, it didn’t seem like a problem. But then again, my thoughts were jumbled, and I wasn’t quite myself. And even though I went to class, I couldn’t keep up with my studies.”

  My anxiety was inconvenient and scary sometimes, but it hadn’t affected my personality or altered my behavior that much.

  “And then my mood shifted, and I couldn’t even get out of bed. I didn’t feel like eating or showering—nothing appealed to me, not sex or alcohol or going out with my friends.”

  “Do you take meds, like I do?”

  “Lithium. I’ll be on it for the rest of my life.” He cocked his head to the side. “You’re taking this awfully well.”

  “I’ve been at the mercy of my own mind for years. So I get it.”

  “I suppose you have.”

  “For the record, I think painting might help.” This had to be the reason Ian didn’t paint anymore. Maybe he’s afraid it’d make him lose control again.

  “It didn’t last time, pet. Painting unleashes something in me.” He shook his head. “I’ve buried that side of myself.”

  “Don’t you think, if you were going to slip up, you’d have done it by now?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “At least think about it.”

  “I will. Ever since I’ve met you, I’ve been tempted to take up my brushes once more.”

  “Good. Does taking lithium even you out?”

  “Yes, though there are some side effects.”

  “Like insomnia?” I asked.

  “The drug doesn’t cause it, per se, because I couldn’t sleep before I was diagnosed, but the drug aggravates it.” Ian finished the rest of his wine in one long drink.

  “Ever tempted to stop taking the pills? To see if you’d get some decent sleep?” Occasionally, I’m tempted to chuck my meds to see if I could get by without them. The impulse never lasted long.

  “Of course. This is going to sound terrible, but sometimes I miss those highs—there’s nothing like it.”

  “No, I get it.” I understood his reasoning. Who wouldn’t want to feel invincible?

  “But the lows aren’t worth it—they can be dangerous. And sometimes there are unforeseeable consequences.” Ian glanced away. I thought there was probably a lot more to the story, but I didn’t want to push him. He’d already told me a lot.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant, shall we? I fear I’ve ruined the mood this evening.”

  “My panic attack put the kibosh on it first.”

  “Sure you’re okay?” He cupped my face. My eyes slid closed.

  I nodded because words failed me.

  “I’m glad.” Ian rubbed his thumb across my cheek, then brushed my lips.

  Oh, how I wanted a real kiss from him. We drew closer and closer.

  “Perhaps you should go home, get some rest.” Our foreheads touched.

  All of a sudden, I had trouble breathing, for a very different reason. I was flooded with warmth, aching. And I couldn’t get close enough—if I could wrap myself around him, I would.

  “Yes, I should leave.” Yet I sat on his sofa, unmoving.

  Then his mouth hovered over mine. Like before, if I wanted his kiss, I’d have to move the rest of the way.

  Carefully, I touched my lips to his—a sudden bolt of electricity, like a lightning strike shocked me. With a groan, Ian deepened the kiss, plying my lips open with his tongue, tasting me. For a long time, we explored one another.

  Eventually, I pulled back. “That was probably a mistake.”

  “I know.” His mouth curved. “But the cat’s out of the bloody bag now.”

  “And halfway down the street.” I grinned too.

  “Does this mean you’re interested in exploring this attraction?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “So polite.”

  And then he kissed me. I moaned as his hot mouth slid down the length of my neck. Ian paused to nip my earlobe. Somehow, I inclined further and further back.

  Then he laid on top of me, bracketing me with his larger body. I clutched his shoulders, hanging on for dear life. His hands drifted up my sides, grazing the edge of my breasts.

  I jumped.

  “Easy, pet, I’m not going to hurt you.” Ian touched me, and my doubts disappeared.

  Ever so slowly, he pulled the edge of my sweater up—revealing my belly and then my bra. Ian rested a palm over my pounding heart.

  I panted, a bit overwhelmed, but not panicked. Yet.

  With a flick of his fingers, the front catch popped open, and my breasts spilled into his hands.

  “You’re beautiful.” Ian cupped them, lifted one to his mouth, and then sucked.

  I arched beneath him. Oh, yes, some things the written world can’t adequately describe. Like the feel of his teeth scraping my nipple—a sensation somewhere between pain and pleasure. Or the exquisite suction created by his hungry mouth. He took his time—exploring one stiff peak and then the other until I squirmed beneath him, eager for more.

  As if he’d heard my silent plea, Ian kissed his way down my torso, pausing to lick my belly button. I moaned, imagining his tongue in much more intimate place.

  Then he slid the button of my jeans open.

  I gasped. “Wait.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you having another attack?” He shook his head, as though to clear it.

  “Er, no.” The embarrassment portion of this evening wasn’t over yet.

  “Tell me.” He kissed my stomach.

  I searched for the words. “Since we’re sharing, there’s something you should know about me.”

  “Darcy, whatever it is, I can handle it.”

  “I’m a virgin.” I winced, waiting for his response.

  Ian groaned, long and low. His eyes widened.

  “Sorry.” My cheeks burned.

  “Never apologize.” Then the pleasing weight of him was gone.

  “Hey. Where are you going?”

  “Away from temptation—for the moment, at least.” He smirked. “So you’ve never…?”

  “Nope. No one else has touched me, er, there.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “But I’ve, uh, taken matters into my own hands. I mean, this isn’t the fifties, you know? I read this article once. So I grabbed a hand mirror and then—”

  “Hold on, pet. Don’t distract me with decadent images—one thing at a time.”

  “Okay.” Did this mean we were done with sexy times this evening?

  “Although, I want to hear the rest of your story. Better yet, you can give me a demonstration at a later date.”

  And I blushed for a different reason. “So what do you think?”

  “First off, New York men must be daft. You’re a beauty with brains. How did you get to the ripe old age of twenty-one untouched?

  “I’ve been busy…?”

  He laughed. “Item number two. We can’t have sex tonight.”

  My turn to groan. Seriously? I’d screwed up my courage, picked out sex clothes, come over to his place, survived a meltdown, kissed him, and now he was going to turn me down?

  Unbelievable.

  “It’s not a big deal. I’m ready, Ian.” I leaned back again. “See?”

  “Believe me, I am too—more than ready, actually. But we can’t.”

  “What’s the problem?” I sat up.

  “I’d like to make your first time special.”

  “But…”

  “This is a rite of passage, and it should be done properly.”

  Dammit. As much as I hated to admit it, maybe he had a point.

  “Was yours? Special, I mean.”

  “No, but I’m a man. I suppose there are
double standards.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was fifteen and worried about hairy palms.” Ian showed me his hands.

  I giggled.

  “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll try this again tomorrow night, but with some candles, another bottle of wine, and we’ll be in my bed. Some ambiance is in order. Okay?”

  Hmm, maybe I’d get a bit of romance and candlelight after all.

  “Yes, but I don’t want to go.”

  “No one said you were going anywhere. We can have a good time, just not as much fun as I’d hoped for.”

  Sounded promising. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Has anyone licked you?” He raised a brow.

  I shook my head.

  A shiver of anticipation ran through me. My stomach twisted into a thick knot, but it wasn’t from fear. Excitement tingled my senses.

  “You’re spoiling me, pet. Not everyone gets handed a clean slate. I don’t know how to react.”

  “So you haven’t been anyone’s first before?” I couldn’t shake the feeling I was out of my depth here.

  “No. See? This’ll be a first for both of us.”

  “But you must’ve been with a lot of older, experienced women. And they know a lot more about sex than I do. What if I’m not good? Boring?”

  “Nothing about you is boring, Darcy. What you lack in technique, you’ll make up for in enthusiasm, but for the moment, let’s focus on Lovemaking 101, back to basics.”

  At least he wasn’t opposed to the idea of teaching me.

  “Here, let me touch you, learn you.” And then he pressed me back against the couch again.

  Ian took his time. He leisurely slipped the jeans down, taking the time to caress my legs, kiss my knees, and then place a hand on my hips. I squirmed as the palm of his hand rested on my inner thigh, spreading my limbs further apart.

  I lay sprawled beneath him. He kissed my leg, pausing to rub his stubbled cheek against my vulnerable flesh. Then he pushed my panties to the side.

  I moaned as he slipped a finger inside me, rubbing me, a steady but tender motion at first, then a bit rougher. My hips rocked with his movements.

  “This’ll make it easier on you tomorrow.” Ian glided two thick fingers inside me, and I squirmed at the fullness. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

  But it didn’t hurt. No, the pressure felt good. Intense.