Raising Ryann

by Alyssa Rae Taylor

  “We’re all good over here,” Sean replies evenly. “Just meeting our neighbor,” He reaches out to shake Luke’s hand. “Hi, I’m Sean. Don’t you live over there?” he asks, pointing in the direction of Luke’s condo.

  Luke doesn’t give him an answer. He doesn’t even shake his hand. He just stands there and sizes him up. I’m completely shocked by his rudeness. “Will that be all?” he asks them.

  “Luke,” I say. “We were just introducing ourselves.” He ignores me completely. His eyes never waver from their spot.

  “Well it was nice to meet you Reese,” Sean says. He glances up at Luke, and his eyes move to his friend, who stays completely quiet, as if he were watching a movie.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” I give a weak smile then mouth, “Sorry.” He gives a slight nod.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” he says.

  Luke chuckles behind me. “I don’t think so, Sean. I’d stay away if you know what’s good for you.” Oh God, could this be any more embarrassing? Now I understand why he quit drinking.

  We watch them walk away, then I quickly turn around and shoot him an evil glare. “To even think I was beginning to feel sorry for you, and then you go and behave like this!”

  He still won’t look at me. He’s gazing over my head, clenching his fists at his sides and working his jaw when he says, “Wow, I didn’t realize you’d move on so quick. It’s fascinating.”

  I slap him. I slap him so hard, it hurts my hand, and I try to shake out the sting. “You have no right to say that to me! You did this!” I point at him, then turn around and walk as fast as I can to the house, but Luke is right behind me. He grabs me and spins me around before I can make it to the door.

  “You want to hit me?” He puts his face right in front of mine. “Hit me. I deserve it,” he begs, then takes my hand and brings it up to his face. His eyes are pleading. “Hit me again.”

  My eyes fill with tears, and the front door swings open. Logan walks out, pointing directly at me. “You two need to either settle this over here or over there,” he says as he points at Luke’s place. “Or soon we’re going to have an audience.” He opens the door wider. “Are you coming in?”

  “Don’t make me feel sorry for you. I don’t want to feel sorry for you right now,” I say quietly.

  “Come over.” He searches my face. “I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again. I need to be with you.” He swallows loudly. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you, please just come over.” The desperation in his voice and on his face makes it impossible for me to deny him.

  “Okay, I’ll come over.”

  “So you hit some innocent guy tonight?” I ask, getting comfortable on my favorite leather sectional. I meet his glossy red eyes, unable to look away as he leans against the door, watching me.

  “I doubt he’s innocent after what he did to you,” he snorts.

  I arch a brow, confused. “What he did to me? What you mean?”

  “The guy with the big mouth,” he grumbles. “The one who came into the restaurant. I don’t regret it either.” He rests the back of his head against the door and gazes at the ceiling.

  I search my memory to find the person he’s talking about. “You mean the guy with the messed up teeth? The one that was wearing the Packers hat?” I don’t know why I’m surprised, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel all warm inside that he hit this man for me.

  He crosses his arms, nodding once, and for a moment I wonder if he’s standing there to keep his balance.

  “I thought you quit drinking.”

  He shrugs. “I changed my mind.” Damn, I’m feeling sorry for him again, even though he’s the one who messed everything up. The thing is—I trust him with my life. I don’t understand what’s going on between us, but I know one thing’s for sure: Luke would die for me.

  I stand up and carefully walk over to him. His gaze feels like a caress. Although he smells like soap, the scent of liquor is apparent. I place my palm on the side of his face, noticing the light handprint from where I slapped him. “I did this.” I look at him in question, but I already know the answer. I just feel bad that I gave it to him, though I had my reasons.

  He clenches his jaw, leaning into my hand, then takes a step closer so that our toes are touching. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says softly before he reaches out and wraps his fingers in my hair. I love when he touches my hair; I love when he touches me period. I close my eyes, taking in the feel of his hands on me. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel him again. “I hate what this is doing to you,” he says and pulls me into a warm hug. “What it’s doing to us.”

  He’s holding me so tightly. I’m trying my best not to cry, but it feels like this is it—that this is our last night together. “Luke.” I pull away and look at him. I think he’s actually having a harder time holding it together than I am. Although it’s somewhat comforting to see that he does really care, it doesn’t help me fight my own tears that are now streaming down my face. “Why did you handle this the way you did? If you care about me as much as you say you do, then why?”

  “I wish I could make you understand, but I can’t. It’s not something I can explain.” He runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “I hope we can get past this, and one day you’ll see that I had your best interest in mind.”

  My best, interest? I have no idea what this man is talking about. “What exactly do you mean by that?” I rub my temples out of irritation. “Waiting to tell me until two days before your departure? How is that in my best interest?”

  He lifts my chin. “I told you. I can’t explain everything right now, and none of it makes sense, but it will eventually.”

  I need to come out and say it—ask him the question I’m dreading most—but I’m terrified of his response. He’s leaving tomorrow, and I’m not sure where we’ll stand after this. I bring my shoulders back and say, “Is it because you’re just not that in to me? Tell me the truth, Luke.”

  His eyes flare, and he backs me up so my body is pressed against the wall. “Not in to you?” he asks roughly as he frames me with his hands, leaning in closer. “I’m in love with you,” he growls. “Can’t you see that? I live and breathe you. I bleed you.” His lips are so close to mine, and he stays there while I stand perfectly still, trying to catch my breath.

  He’s in love with me? My knees go weak, but he grips the back of my neck and brings his mouth to mine. A minute later, I reach over and pull off my sweatshirt, suddenly hot, still wearing my tank underneath it. His calloused hands frantically run over my skin in a way that he’s never touched me. He nips at my bottom lip, then his tongue enters my mouth, and I welcome it with my own. My mind swirls with thoughts that this may be wrong. I pull away gasping, breathless. “Am I taking advantage of you? Because you’ve been drinking?” It was an honest question.

  He chuckles into my mouth then swoops me up in his arms. I wrap my legs around him. “Man, you’re cute,” he says with a devilish grin. “The things you say sometimes. God, I’m going to miss you. All of you.” At the same time I’m sinking into the mattress, my heart crumbles at the thought of him leaving tomorrow. I’m still upset and confused, but he’s here and his hands are on me. I want to savor this moment, and he loves me. He loves me.

  I lift up and kiss him with everything I have, then reach for his shirt, trying to pull it over his head. He helps me then throws it behind him. I run my fingers across the hard ridges of his stomach, and he closes his eyes, trembling at my touch. “Luke.” He watches me from under his lashes, stroking my hair. I lift my arms up and gaze into his eyes, wanting him to see that I’m ready. There’s confliction in his features, and I challenge him. “I’m ready,” I say softly. He sucks in a breath before accepting my invitation.

  As the cotton leaves my skin, a rash of tiny little bumps appear, taking its place. With heat in his gaze, he ever so slowly brushes the tips of his fingers down my neck. He moves over my shoulder, taking his time
before he lightly grazes my collarbone. I’m entranced by the tenderness of it all, and shiver beneath his hands.

  He watches my reaction so intently that I’m embarrassed. I know I can’t hide the blush. “I’m going to miss this,” he whispers, pressing his lips against my cheek then moving to my mouth, my neck, and every place his fingers traced before.

  I whimper at the euphoria that’s building in my body, and he pulls away with a feral growl, taking me in as if it’s the last time he’s going to see me. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he says, warning in his voice. “But I can’t take that from you tonight. Not yet.” He leans over and pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, gently nipping at it with his teeth, then moves his body against me.

  “Luke,” I pant. The friction of his body pressed to mine feels incredible. “I’m not ready to stop.” I don’t want him to stop what he’s doing—what we’re doing.

  He grips the back of my neck, gazing into my eyes. He’s breathing just as hard as I am. “Don’t take advantage of me.” The corner of his mouth tips in a naughty grin. “I have a hard enough time resisting you when I’m sober.” Then in a slow movement he places his hand against my neck and slides it down the center of my chest, before he peppers kisses along the line of my jaw, then up to my ear and whispers, “I want to make you feel good.” His fingers graze over my skin, and he moves against me again, watching me closely as I whimper.

  I may not have done this before, but I’m fully aware that what we’re doing works both ways. “What about you?” I ask, but barely get the words out.

  “Shh relax, Reese,” he says, kissing me softly. “Let me take care of you.” He rolls over and picks me up, placing me on his lap to where I’m straddling him. “Is this okay?” His voice alone is doing crazy things to me.

  I gaze into the depths of his beautiful brown eyes. “It’s perfect,” I whisper. Then he leans forward and continues to kiss every inch of my neck, working his way to my shoulder as he pulls me against him. I moan at the sensation he’s bringing me. It’s almost too much. I’m terrified I might never get the chance to tell him how I feel. I don’t know why, but it’s a feeling that comes from deep down in my soul. I hold his face in my hands, and look into in those eyes again, as I move with him. “I love you. I love you, Luke Ryann.”

  He smiles then kisses the tip of my nose, moving over to my ear. “I need you to say it again.”

  “I love you.” I’ll say it a million times if he wants.

  He grips my hips, pulling me in closer. I never want this to end. “Tell me you’re mine,” he says, running his hands over my shoulders, exploring more of my skin with his mouth. “No one else’s. Tell me.”

  My entire body trembles, and my head falls back as I moan. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

  Last night couldn’t have been any more perfect … or so I thought. Now I’m sitting on the floor of Luke’s closet, staring at the letter I’ve already dropped three times since I found it. My hands continue to shake from all the emotions flowing through me. I don’t even know what to feel anymore. I’ve been lied to, by the person I trusted the most. I gave almost everything to him last night. When he said he loved me, I chose to believe him. He seemed so sincere, but it was a lie—all of it was a lie.

  My eyes fall on the numbers typed in bold at the center of the paper—the date Luke is supposed to leave for Brazil, which happens to be more than three months away. So why did he leave today? And where did he go? And how did I overlook this the first time I read it? There’s a loud knock on the door, but I don’t get up to answer it. I just want to sit here, wrap my head around all of this, and stare at the damn letter.

  “Reese,” Gia calls, looking for me. I haven’t seen her since last night when she left me. She was supposed to go grab a sweatshirt, but never came back outside.

  “In here,” I reply weakly, hoping that she can explain it in a way that would make him look innocent, but I know it’s not going to happen.

  She walks in and tilts her head to the side. “What are you doing in the closet?”

  I hand over the letter and stare at the floor. “The date,” I murmur. “He’s been lying. My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t think he went to Brazil.”

  “And you’re sure she has no idea?” Andrew asks me. It bothers me since I’ve already answered this question. There’s no way I’d let her in on what we’re doing. I don’t want her involved—in any way, shape, or form.

  I look him straight in the eye. “For the second time, she doesn’t know. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Did you use the excuse we discussed?”

  “Actually no. Something else came up, and I just went with it.”

  “What’d you tell her?”

  I’m reminded of the pain I saw in her features and the tears I watched her cry. I hate it. I hate that this is hurting her—that I’m hurting her. “Told her I took a job in Brazil.”

  He nods; rubbing the stubble on his chin, he reaches over and pats me on the back, saying, “We’ll get him.” He presses his lips into a tight line. “Just don’t do anything stupid. I need to bring you back in one piece if I ever want to know my daughter again.”

  Be on the lookout for Book #2 in the Bad Boy Reformed series, Resisting Ryann, coming soon.

  First and foremost I have to mention my best friend Camryn Pinner, for the countless number of days and nights you helped me work on this story. You were the first person to put your faith in me, and stuck by me through this entire process. I can never thank you enough. To my husband for playing Mr. Mom- taking care of our children and cleaning up after their messes, while I spent several hours a day, holed up in the den. Thank you for allowing me this time to fulfill my dream. To my children for their patience with my truckload of excuses, as to why, I need more time on the computer. To all my loyal fans from Wattpad, you know who you are. Thank you for supporting me, even though I didn’t post the entire book, which made some people very angry. Your encouraging comments are what pushed me to continue forward, and believe in myself. To the rest of my fans, thank you so much for taking a chance with me, and picking up my story. To my copyeditor Madison Seidler, thank you for finding, and fixing all, of my mistakes, and for making me seem smarter than I really am. I appreciate your hard work. To Sarah Hansen for my beautiful cover art. I’m so glad I found you and look forward to using you again. Also, I’d like to send a big thanks to Angela McLaurin for using your talent by making my book look pretty on the inside. To my parents and sisters for putting up with me, when I’m being a pain in the rear. And last but not least, to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, for loving me unconditionally, even with all my imperfections, which are many.

  Wife. Mother. Writer. Reader. Dreamer.

  For more information on Alyssa Rae Taylor you can visit her here:

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