Stripped From You: (Stripped Duet #1)
Page 6
“Well, your drinks are on the house,” Spiro informs her as we walk behind the girls.
Emily glances back and bats her eyelashes. Mac may not have a chance with her, but Spiro might.
“So, you're a bartender and a superhero?" Spiro cranes his head, blatantly checking out both their asses. If he wasn't my boss, and Alana was actually my girlfriend, I'd loosen my fist on him too.
“I think superhero is a little too strong of a word.”
“I think it's the perfect word," Emily announces still facing forward. Alana looks back at me with an unreadable expression on her face. And now a thousand worries are cluttering my mind. She's mad. I know she's mad; mad that I said she was spoken for and mad that I ordered her to stay behind. Maybe she's determined I've become too attached and is deciding at this very moment things need to end. The thought rips a hole right through my stomach.
Once we get back inside, Mac and I proceed to pour Emily shot after shot until she can barely stand, and Alana is glaring at all three of us.
I serve her a Coke with a lime, hoping to lighten her mood, but she hardly responds to my tiny gesture. I feel like she's slipping away.
Finally, when the lights flash for last call, Emily is far beyond inebriated. I swear it feels like I've lived three lifetimes in the last eight hours.
“Ryan, I'm going to take her home,” Alana huffs, draping one of Emily's arms over her shoulders. She wobbles slightly in her skyscraper high heels struggling to keep her balance. I’m unraveling from her aloofness. That, mixed with the most annoying remix of Usher’s “Oh My God” is making me want to bang my head against the wall.
“I'll help you.” I hop over the bar and scoop Emily up. She goes limp in my arms. At least she got what she wanted. She is monumentally drunk and is going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.
“Thanks.” Alana runs her hand down my back, and now I'm the one going limp. Her touch sprints over my limbs like a runner in the midst of a thirty-yard dash. My arms tense so tightly around Emily, I fear I’m going to crush her; it’s easy to forget how small and lightweight she is when her personality makes her seem like a giant.
Once we get out to Alana's car, I not so artfully slip Emily into the backseat. I lay her down on her side and push the front seat back into position. Poor thing looks like a twisted-up ragdoll. Then Alana closes the door. I don’t know if she’s still pissed at me or not, but I slide my arms around her waist and hug her. She snakes her hands around my neck and hugs me back with such force it catches me off guard.
“I'm sorry I upset you.” The words fly out in one great rush.
“When did you upset me?”
“When I declared you spoken for.” I squeeze her tighter. “I’m not sorry I said it, and I won’t take it back.”
“I didn’t get mad,” she confesses. “I liked it,” she admits, pressing her face into the nape of my neck like she’s embarrassed of her admission.
Say what?
My mouth can't respond, but my heart is suddenly pumping double-time in my chest.
“You’re pretty badass,” Alana comments.
“Not really.”
“I heard you punch him.”
I shrug. “I’ve dealt with idiots my whole life. I’ve never taken one down that easily before though.”
“Like I said, badass.”
“Sean’s the badass,” I contest. “I was just defending Emily.”
“I’m grateful.” Alana goes to kiss me, but our private moment is interrupted.
“Pierce!” Spiro is standing by the front door. “Play lover boy later!”
“Shit,” I mutter.
“It's okay, go. I want to get Emily home anyway. Although I have no idea how I’m going to get her out of the car.”
“There isn’t anyone home to help you?”
“No, my aunt and uncle are away. It’s just us in the house.”
I glance into the backseat, then at Alana. “Crap. Okay, hang on. I’ll be right back out.” I swiftly kiss her lips then take off into the club. I squeeze through the crowd looking for Spiro. I find him at the bar gabbing with Mac like the two little girls they are.
“Yo, is it cool if Mac handles my close out?” I ask Spiro.
He huffs. “Ask him.” I look at Mac, and he shrugs. “Sure, bro. But if my drawer is short, I’m taking it out of your tips.”
“Whatever.” I know he’s full of shit.
Spiro shakes his head. “You’re whipped on that one, huh?”
I shoot him a cold stare.
“I don't know how you can be whipped on something you're not even getting,” Mac chimes in annoyingly.
Spiro looks at me surprised. “Really, bro, nada?”
I roll my eyes. “We're casual.”
God, I hate that fucking word.
“Maybe she's casual, but you're whipped. I get it though. You like the chase.” He smiles with a tactless grin. “Now get the fuck out of here."
“What about the guy?” I ask.
“The boys handled him.” Spiro grabs an olive out of a fruit tray and pops it carelessly into his mouth. “I don’t think he’ll be bothering her again. Or any other woman for that matter.”
I nod. “Just what I wanted to hear. See you Thursday. I’ll hit you up tomorrow,” I tell Mac.
“Later, bro.” We clasp hands, then I’m out.
I find Alana sitting in her car. I lean down into the driver’s side window. “You ready? I’ll follow you.”
“Okay.” She nods.
I pull my Jeep up behind her Audi, and we take off, making the drive to, actually, I don’t know where. I just follow her as she heads west. I realize Emily also lives in Colts Neck when the houses start becoming mansions. They’re all perched on large sprawling properties with manicured lawns. This area is out of control money.
We pull up a long driveway leading to a massive brick house. Really, it feels more like a compound. Shit. I am way out of my element here. Alana parks in front of a three-car garage with decorative doors. I pull right alongside her. I squeeze Emily out of the car, again not so gracefully, and carry her lifeless body to the front door made of textured glass. Alana already has it unlocked and wide open by the time I make my way up the three stone steps. The house is dark, but you can feel the spaciousness as you walk through the foyer. This place is sick, and completely intimidating, at least to me. I know Alana’s family has money, but seeing it firsthand is eye-opening. I follow her up the carpeted stairs and down the hallway to Emily’s room. Alana flicks on a light on the nightstand, giving me a good look at the space. It's massive. All purple with stark white furniture and a huge walk-in closet that's literally the size of my kitchen. Damn.
I place Emily on the turned down bed, and Alana removes Emily’s heels before tucking her in. She then stands over Emily with her arms wrapped protectively around her.
“She’s going to be fine,” I try to reassure Alana, smoothing my hand over her pale blonde hair.
“It just amazes me how many assholes are out there." She shakes her head, zoning out.
"Unfortunately, babe, that's the fucked-up reality."
“Don't I know it,” she grunts, and suddenly all my defenses are on high alert.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I fish.
Alana doesn't respond. She just stares up at me with the small light illuminating her eyes.
“Alana?” I urge.
“No,” she finally responds. “I just don't think any woman escapes life without at least one run-in.” There’s pain in her voice even though the emotion isn’t displayed on her face. I wrap one arm around her with the blood boiling in my veins. I know after tonight — actually, I've known ever since that first night — that I would kill for this girl. Murder anyone who hurts her even if she doesn't reciprocate my feelings.
She drops her head onto my shoulder. “Can you stay with me for a while?”
“What?” Her question derails the murderous path my thoughts are on.
“Of course, I’ll stay.” This girl can make me crumble. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Alana holds all the power.
Alana slips one of her hands in mine and leads me out of Emily's room, back down the stairs, through the enormous kitchen, and into the shadowy living room.
We make ourselves comfortable on a big cushy couch I know Sean would give his left ball to sleep on. Hell, I would give my left ball to sleep on it.
It’s softer than a bed.
I'm sitting up with Alana's legs bent over my thighs. Her back pressed against the arm rest. It's a cozy, close position, and I love the feeling of being trapped underneath her.
“Emily sleeps in that bed all by herself?” I ask.
“Usually,” Alana laughs. “It’s hers. When I sleep over, we share it.”
“Naked?”
“Ryan,” she huffs like don’t be ridiculous.
“A guy can dream.” I leer salaciously. “How often do you sleep over?”
“More than I’d like to admit. This house is my second home.”
“Why is that?”
Alana shrugs. “My father is strict. When I’m here, I can breathe.”
“I get it.”
“Am I ever going to see where you live?” she asks.
“Why the fuck would you want to see that?” I snap unintentionally.
“I don’t know,” she responds quickly, like she’s thinking on her feet. “It’s part of who you are, I guess.”
“It’s no part of who I am, and I never want you to see where I live.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I sneer. How do I explain this without sounding ashamed or embarrassed or downright mortified? Especially after seeing all this. “You want to know where I live? My apartment can fit in this house’s foyer. I still share a room with my brother and sleep on the same mattress I’ve had since I was ten. It’s a sliver in size compared to Emily’s. There’s never any food in the fridge but always plenty of beer and vodka. Every morning I wake up to a mess of empty bottles littered all over the kitchen. The place stinks of cigarettes and marijuana, and the only time I breathe fresh air is when I’m around you.” I swallow my shame. “So, now that you know all that, why on earth would I take the one person who means anything to me to that dump and devalue her?”
The room is dim, but I can still make out the frown lines on Alana’s face from the moonlight shining through the massive wall of windows in the kitchen.
“I hardly think you’ll devalue me, Ryan.”
“It’s a black fucking hole, and I’ll never take you there.”
“Fine, I understand.” She doesn’t push, and I love her for that. “But I can relate.”
“I hardly think so.”
“Why not?" She shifts abruptly. “Just because I live in a big house and have money, you think I can't identify with crappy circumstances?”
“I never said that. I just never want to expose you to my crappy circumstances.”
“I feel the same way,” she stresses.
“How bad can it be? You have everything.”
“Not everything, Ryan. Cars and clothes and cash can't fill what's missing inside.” Alana looks down and lets her hair fall in front of her face, like she's hiding from me. Ashamed that she just admitted something so real. It's then that I realize even though she's financially free, she's emotionally bound.
I want to tell her that she doesn’t have to feel that way. That I'll love her. I'll give her everything I have and let her take from me whatever she needs. But I know if I come out with words that strong, I'll scare her away.
“Okay then.” I guide her face back up to mine. “Let's just agree we both have our own fucked-up family drama. And instead of wasting time dwelling on our problems, we just concentrate on each other?”
I really do want to understand her. Understand what’s missing inside. But I’m just so goddamned scared to push.
Alana just stares at me for a few silent heartbeats, searching my eyes. “I can live with that.”
“Good.” I drop my forehead against hers and pull her closer to me. This is the heaviest conversation we’ve ever had, and I’m taking it as a good sign. She finally trusts me enough to share some of her precious emotions.
Alana and I spend the rest of the night sitting in silence, letting the minutes tick by. Holding and caressing and exploring one another’s hands. Hers are so small and feminine. Always polished.
“Alana?” I ask delicately. “What did you mean when you said you liked it?”
“Liked what?” she responds coyly.
“Liked that I called you mine.”
“I think you know.” She flicks her eyes up at me with a gleam.
I try hard not to crack a smile. “What happened to casual?”
“I think we can both agree casual was never in the cards for us.” She clasps one of my hands and brings it to her chest.
“I was never a huge fan of casual.” I run my other hand up her leg. She shifts just as I get to the top of her thigh. “Does this mean I can make it past first base?”
“Yes—” She jumps when I tickle her. “Just not tonight.”
“I can live with that,” I tease. “Tomorrow is a whole new day.”
I lean over and graze my teeth across her jawbone, the atmosphere suddenly becoming supercharged with sexual tension. Moving up to skim my tongue across her lips, I caress the top one, then the bottom one lightly. Alana moans.
“Do you like that?” I ask with her head trapped in my hands.
“I like everything you do with your tongue,” she rasps.
“You have no idea what I can do with my tongue,” I promise her.
Her eyes pop open with desire raging in her reddish-brown pupils. “Are you sure you don’t want to move past first base tonight?” I tempt her with another kiss.
Who am I kidding? I’m tempting myself right now.
“Yes,” she breathes heavily. Even though we both know it’s a lie, I’ll respect her wishes. Tonight. But like I said, tomorrow is a whole new day.
It’s too bright, and I have to pee. I open my eyes and find Alana sleeping on top of me. Not a bad way to start the day. Her legs are tangled with mine, her arms are wrapped around me, and her hair is a sexy, wild mess in my face. We fell asleep on the couch, and I think it was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. I run one finger through her golden strands just listening to her breathe. It’s soft and rhythmic, just like her voice. It entrances me until I find myself daydreaming about waking up like this every morning. Peaceful and weightless, with a goddess in my bed.
“Morning.” Alana suddenly stirs.
“Morning.” I clench my arms tighter around her, so she can’t move. I never want you to move.
“How long have you been awake?” She looks up at me sleepily. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’m not sure. A little while. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah, this couch is crazy comfortable.” “I know.” She giggles.
Please God, let me always wake up to that sound.
“Do you want some coffee?” she asks as she licks and kisses my neck lightly, inducing every cell in the sea of my body to whoosh through my veins.
“No. I want you. Here. Now. Like this.” I roll us over so we’re on our sides. I wrap one leg around her so her body is locked to mine. She giggles louder as I bite and nibble and suck my way over her shoulder and collarbone.
“Ryan,” she half-moans, half-laughs as I tickle her with affection.
“Alana,” I tease, pressing myself against her so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me. She gasps when I grab her ass and grind my hips into hers. Now it’s on.
“Easy there,” she groans, pushing her hand against me. But the lust-filled look in her eyes be
trays her. It’s singing a completely different tune.
“I can’t help it. It’s the effect you have on me,” I hum as I run my hand up her shirt. She shivers as I skim over the thin fabric of her bra. “Besides, you started it.”
“I know.” She caresses her tongue along my lower lip, sucking it into her mouth so hard it sets fire to my spine. “And now I’m going to stop it.” She tickles me under my rib, where she knows I’m sensitive, then wiggles right out of my hold.
Hey.
“You play dirty,” I accuse as I watch her shimmy into the kitchen.
“I know,” she yells back. “Get used to it.”
Get used to it? Baby, I welcome it.
I sit up and adjust myself, trying to contain the Headbanger’s Ball now raging in my pants.
After a minute of collective breathing, I follow Alana into the kitchen, with the ache still actively there. This girl is going to be the death of me. This girl? My girl. The thought lights me up inside. Mine.
I watch as she moves effortlessly through the kitchen, pulling out cups from the dark wood cabinets and milk from the stainless-steel refrigerator.
“Do you want plain, or do you want to try a flavored coffee?” she asks all cutesy, with her hair a tousled mess, and her shirt riding up over her stomach. It takes all the restraint I have not to force her down onto the countertop and have my wicked way with her.
Mine.
“Plain is fine.” I clear my throat as I picture her splayed across the cool, multicolored granite with me lying on top of her. Guy, get a motherfucking grip.
I turn and gaze out the wall of windows overlooking the house’s backyard. The smell of coffee engulfs the entire kitchen as it brews. The big, huge — I could live here with six family members and still have privacy — kitchen. The money Alana’s family has is unfathomable.
I stare mindlessly out one of the windows, taking in the picturesque grounds. Watching the sun glisten off the crystal blue pool, I can't help but wonder what it would've been like to grow up here. It's so much bigger than anything I'm used to, and it makes me realize just how different mine and Alana’s worlds really are. And how fucking much that scares me; because there will always be a tiny little voice in the back of my head reminding me I'll never be on par with her. That I might never be enough.