Stripped From You: (Stripped Duet #1)

by M. Never

  “What are you thinking about?” Her voice soft and seductive. My blood instantly heats.

  “Nothing,” I lie, turning my head to her. “Just admiring the scenery.”

  “That was some pretty intense admiring,” she observes.

  “It's a beautiful backyard. It's easy to get lost in.” I pull her close and kiss the top of her head.

  She hands me my coffee, already made, because she knows just how I like it. She’s always armed with some kind of caffeinated beverage, whether it’s straight-up black java or some froo-froo, frothy, flavored crap. And ever since we’ve been together, she usually has one for me, too.

  “Is your uncle a judge, too?” I ask as Alana rests her head on my shoulder.

  “No,” she responds sweetly. “He’s a lawyer. He owns one of the most renowned law firms in the city.”

  “I see. Now I understand your major. It runs in the family.”

  “Sort of.” She smirks. “Although I don’t think I’ll ever live up to the likes of my father or uncle. They’re both beyond brilliant.”

  “I don’t think you should cut yourself short. You’re pretty brilliant.” I glance down at her, and she shies away from me with a little grin, pressing her face into my chest.

  She gets so timid when I compliment her. I love it because it’s adorable, but I also hate it because I want her to let me in. All the way in. Without any insecurity or fear. She keeps fighting it. Fighting me. Even though we grew leaps and bounds last night, I just want to shake her and tell her it’s okay to feel. Okay to trust.

  “Am I ever going to get to see where you live?” I ask. I don’t know what sparked the question. Maybe seeing all this, I’m curious about where she grew up.

  “Sure, as long as my father’s not around.” She stands over by the island across from the refrigerator and places her coffee cup down.

  “Why? Don’t want him to meet me?” I follow her.

  She scoffs, “I don’t want you to meet him.”

  “Because he won’t approve of us?” I quickly interject, standing in front of her now.

  “Because he’s an asshole,” She’s unapologetically blunt.

  Wow. Tell me how you really feel.

  “And maybe a little bit because he won’t approve.”

  “I see.” I lift her up and plop her on the counter so we are eye to eye. And oh, so close to where I was fantasizing about her earlier. “Should I be worried about that?”

  “No. You should only be worried about what I approve of,” she pronounces sternly, staring deeply into my eyes.

  “Then you’re going to have to be open with me.” I run my hands along her thighs. “And tell me what you like and what you don’t. It’s the only way I’ll know.”

  Alana looks back at me so menacingly quiet it almost scares me.

  Then, to my surprise — and delight — she leans forward and presses her lips to mine. And even though it’s a soft, subtle kiss, it’s also resounding and reaffirming.

  Lost in the moment, I slip my hands under her shirt and feel my way slowly over her soft skin. Up her sides, over her stomach, and across her ribcage.

  “Ryan, what are you doing?” she teases just as I reach the underwire of her bra.

  “Taking advantage of the brand-new day,” I reply, and then crush my mouth against hers. Maybe I will get to live out my fantasy after all.

  “You already got past first base this morning,” she pants playfully.

  “I was nowhere near passing first. That was only a run down between first and second.” I place my palm over her breast, cupping the entire thing in my hand. The feel of it zings need all over my body. Alana wraps one leg around my hip drawing me in closer. I seize the opportunity and haul myself up onto the countertop. Exactly where I wanted to be. Covering her body with mine. I waste no time nestling my erection against her and running my hands all over her curves, feeling every inch I can. My new favorite place to touch is under her shirt, teasing her nipple. She wraps her legs around my waist, securing me to her, and that’s when everything gets hazy. I attack her mouth with the most bloodthirsty excitement I have ever felt in my life. Our bodies rub together as our moans echo around the cavernous kitchen. My zipper is going to bust if I don’t touch her soon. Like get her naked and touch her good and proper, but just before I suggest we take this somewhere more private, we hear a loud “Ahem.”

  Alana and I startle apart to find Emily standing by the refrigerator looking like a hot mess. I don’t think Alana and I look much better. Her bleach-blonde hair is standing on end, there are black smudges under her eyes, and her skin is sickeningly pale. What did I tell you? Wicked. Hangover.

  I immediately pull my hand out of Alana’s shirt as she wiggles out from underneath me. She’s mortified, I know it. I slink off the countertop and away from the girls so I can adjust my junk inconspicuously, which is easier said than done since I’m as hard as the granite we were just getting busy on.

  Fuck.

  Emily just groans as she walks past us and dives into a cabinet.

  “What are you looking for, Em?” Alana asks uneasily as she hops off the counter.

  I give her a “whoops, busted” look, hoping to lighten the situation. She returns one of her own. One that tells me she wants to crawl into a hole and die.

  Told you, mortified.

  Me, not so much.

  “Drugs,” Emily moans, and my attention snaps immediately to her. “The Tylenol bottle in my bathroom cabinet was empty. I can’t tell you how upsetting that was.”

  That’s all she was talking about, you idiot. Tylenol for her aching head.

  Alana gets a glass of water for Emily as she opens the aspirin bottle. I watch as she swallows two pills then squints when she turns toward the sunlight pouring in through the large-paned windows.

  “I’m surprised you’re up this early,” Alana remarks. “I thought you’d at least sleep till noon.”

  “I would have, but my parents just so lovingly called to let me know they are on their way home. Which you should probably thank your lucky stars for, because I don’t know how kindly they would have responded to finding you being felt up by some guy with bed head on their kitchen counter.”

  I self-consciously put my hand on my head in a vain attempt to smush down the unruly waves.

  “My parents are cool, but even they have their limits.”

  “Thanks for the heads up, Em.” Alana smirks between the two of us, and I can’t help but wonder what that smile is for.

  “Don’t thank me, thank that empty Tylenol bottle. I had no idea you were down here until...” She clears her throat, eyeing me.

  “Yeah, well.” I rub the back of my neck uncomfortably. “I need to get going anyway.”

  “Probably a good idea.” Emily winks wearily. “ETA is twenty minutes. Make your goodbyes fast,” she warns then starts to head out of the room. Right before she disappears, she spins on her heel. “And Ryan. Thanks again for last night. You’re my hero.” She puts her hand over her heart and bats her eyelashes as she walks backwards out of the kitchen.

  I look down at Alana who just rolls her eyes. “Can’t help but love that girl. It’s a weakness.”

  I want to tell Alana loving her is my weakness, but I think it’s definitely too soon to disclose that kind of information. Instead, I pull her close so I can make every minute of the twenty we have left count.

  “What exactly were you smirking at before?” I pry.

  “I was just doing what Emily suggested and thanking my lucky stars for a lot of different things.”

  “Oh yeah?” I nuzzle my nose into her hair. It smells so clean it makes my senses tingle. “Am I one of those things?”

  “Maybe,” she flirts, turning her face up to mine. Then she wraps her arms around my neck, and for the first time, it feels like she's really holding on.

  “Don’t ever let go.” I probably shouldn’t have said that aloud. I’ll kick myself in the ass later.

  “It doesn’t look
like I’ll be letting go anytime in the immediate future.” Her response surprises me in the best possible way. I hug her a little tighter and she kisses my neck, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my body.

  Please don’t ever let go.

  Alana walks me out to my car, and we spend another few minutes kissing goodbye. Every time we part it feels like walking across hot coals. When she finally insists I go, I start up my Jeep.

  “Bye, Baby.” I lean over and kiss her one more time.

  “Bye,” she responds softly, kissing me back.

  I grab her neck right before she gets too far. “My baby?”

  Her warm brown eyes capture mine. “Yours,” she answers with a tiny smile.

  A small flood of relief, and a huge wave of elation, washes over me.

  “Good.” I brush her lips once more for good luck then throw the shifter into reverse, pull a K-turn, and speed down the driveway with my mind on two things. A hot shower and the image of Alana sprawled out over a granite countertop.

  Carousels and Cotton Candy Dream

  I hurry to clean up the kitchen.

  My developing OCD is getting worse by the day. I can’t fucking stand the mess. My bag is packed, and I’m picking up Alana at Emily’s as soon as this apartment is in some kind of decent order.

  I’m scrubbing a glass that has cigarette ashes caked on the bottom when I hear Sean shuffle in.

  “Can you be any louder?” he gripes as he hauls himself onto the counter next to me.

  “Can you be any more disgusting?” I splash some grimy water at him.

  “Hey!” He tries to deflect it with his arm, but I already soaked his white tank with black speckles of ash all down the front.

  “Need to be faster than that.”

  “Whatever, bro. Face me when I’m awake. I dare you.”

  “You don’t scare me, jackass.” I square off with him.

  Sean grins. And I can see it in his eyes, the playfulness and the fury. He isn’t really anyone to fuck with. I’ve seen him take down guys twice his size and double his girth. He’s cunning and conniving, and if he had one working brain cell, he could be anything he wanted. He far surpasses me in the intelligence department, but I have the one thing he doesn’t, self-control.

  I also wasn’t blessed with a bipolar disorder, which is where most of my brother’s problems stem from. He got the short end of the stick there.

  “You going somewhere?” Sean asks, clearly noticing my packed duffle bag on the table.

  “Nothing gets past you.” I wipe my hands with a dish towel. Finally done.

  “So, where you headed?” he probes.

  “Mac’s uncle’s place in LBI. He’s got it for the next few days.”

  “Uh huh?” He eyes me suspiciously.

  “What the hell is that look for?”

  “You going alone?”

  I freeze. I haven’t told Sean about Alana, but I knew I couldn’t hide it from him for long.

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “You’re different, bro. I can feel it.”

  Twin telepathy. It’s a curse.

  I chew the inside of my cheek, deciding if I really want to do this now. But I might as well tell him before he tries to beat it out of me.

  “No. I’m not going alone.”

  Sean’s face twists into a smug smile. “I knew it. Who is she?”

  “No one you know.” I turn to grab my bag.

  “Come on. You gotta give me something. She must be important if you’re keeping her all to yourself.”

  “Or not.” I try that route.

  Sean knows me all too well. He can see right through my screen. He hops off the counter and presses his hand to my chest, bringing me to a screeching halt. He looks me dead in the eyes. My own eyes staring back at me. “You in love, bro?”

  Fucking Sean, I inwardly groan. I haven’t said it to her, I’m sure as hell not going to admit it to him.

  “She’s different.”

  The corner of Sean’s mouth curves up. I used the buzz word. Every man describes the love of his life one way. Different. So, I don’t have to elaborate any further for Sean to know.

  “Well, who the fuck is she?” His voice elevates, laced with curiosity. “Where’s she from?”

  “Colts Neck,” I reluctantly answer.

  “Rich girl. What the hell is she doing with you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Alana.”

  “Pretty name.”

  “Pretty girl.”

  “I bet. Do I get to meet her or what?” he shoves me.

  “Hell no.”

  “Why not? Afraid I’ll steal her away?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll scare her away.”

  “C’mon. I’m not that bad.”

  “Have you met you?” I scoff.

  “Met who?” Our mother appears in the kitchen doorway. She’s dressed in her work clothes. Black pants and a pink button-up top. Her hair is done nicely in a low ponytail, and there’s actually some life in her eyes. She isn’t drunk.

  Yet.

  “Ryan’s new girlfriend,” Sean outs me, and I punch him.

  “Big mouth.”

  She looks over at me. “Oh yeah? One of the neighborhood girls?”

  “Oh, she’s from a neighborhood,” Sean dangles. “Just not this one.”

  “Do you want to stop talking in code and tell me what that means?” she asks Sean, annoyed. She hates when we’re indirect.

  “Rich girl,” Sean replies.

  My mother pins me with her eyes. What the hell is that look for?

  “Does it really matter where she’s from?” I ask, frustrated.

  “Yes,” both Sean and my mother answer simultaneously.

  I look between the two of them. This is exactly why I didn’t say anything in the first place. It’s my relationship, and it has nothing to do with anyone besides Alana and me. Although, I really didn’t think her social class was going to be an issue.

  “Baby.” My mother puts her hand on my cheek. This is when she’s at her best. Right before she leaves for work. She’s sober and coherent and affectionate, and it’s a glimpse of what she would be like if she wasn’t a raging alcoholic. “If you’re happy, I’m happy. Just be careful. You tend to lead too much with your heart. Make sure she deserves it.”

  “She does.” I have no other answer, and quite frankly, I’m floored by my mother’s response.

  “She better. You have to be wary of the rich ones,” she warns, with threat in her voice.

  Where do you think Sean gets his fight from?

  “She isn’t like that.”

  “I hope to God for your sake she’s not.” It’s clear my mother doesn’t like the idea of this relationship one bit despite the fact she just said she was happy for me. Which is so typical of her. Say one thing, mean another.

  “Look, I gotta go.” I pull the strap of my duffel bag up onto my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few days. Think you two can handle things around here without me?”

  Sean rolls his eyes, and my mother kisses me on the cheek. “We’ll be fine.”

  Famous last words.

  Right before I leave, I remember something. “Sean? Did you take care of that thing?”

  Sean scowls. “Done, brother. No worries.” He’s pissed I brought it up in front of her.

  Too bad, so sad.

  “What thing?” our mother presses.

  “Sean can fill you in,” I deflect with a pseudo-smile. He’s in shit now. Fucker deserves her wrath. She may not win any mother of the year awards, but she can sure as hell flex her parental muscles when she wants to. And she usually does when Sean pulls the old presto-chango with our identities.

  “Nice looking out, Ryan,” Sean snaps spitefully right before I walk out the door.

  “You did it to yourself,” I snap right back.

  I help Alana with her bag.

  I throw it into the backseat with mine then boo
st her into the passenger side. She’s ready for a day at the beach dressed in a cute little jean skirt and loose mesh shirt over her bikini top. My favorite one. An orange and yellow tie-dye number with these string thingies dangling from it.

  “Did you wear that bathing suit on purpose?” I ask as we pull away from Emily’s house.

  “Maybe,” she toys. “I think you mentioned you liked it.”

  “I do like it. I like that it barely covers your ass.” I grin, and she smacks me.

  “Is that all you want me for? My body?”

  “All? No. A majority? Yes.”

  “Okay, then,” she acknowledges with a devilish gleam. She’s being playful. I love playful Alana. There isn’t anything hotter. Except maybe naked Alana, and we haven’t gotten that far yet. But I have high hopes for the next few days.

  She pulls her shirt off and tosses it under the seat then yanks her hair out of her ponytail, letting the locks loose in the wind. It’s sexy as hell, and she knows just what she’s doing to me.

  “Are you trying to tease me?” I eye her as we pull onto the Parkway.

  “No, I’m just giving you what you want.” She stretches her arms over her head, elongating her torso and seductively bowing her body.

  Holy hell.

  “Did you take something this morning? And if so, can I have some?” I laugh.

  “No, I’m just looking forward to spending a few days alone with my boyfriend.”

  I groan.

  “Say it again.”

  “Say what again?”

  “Boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap around the word, telling me I’m not the only one who has high hopes for the next couple of days.

  I groan, again, my desire raging as my mind goes wild with images of Alana in all types of compromising positions. I need to breathe. Maybe today we’ll skip the beach. Hopefully. God please. Pretty please.

  I put my hand on her leg and skim my thumb across the smooth surface of her skin. She lackadaisically puts her sunglasses on — the mirrored aviator ones I hate — and allows me to caress her inner thigh while the sun beats down on her face. I decided to strip the Jeep — doors, windows, roof — because I know Alana eats it up. She’s a sun-worshiper at heart. But if I had any idea she was going to let me put my hands on her, I would have reconsidered, and made this ride a memorable one.