by Abby Burch
He pats me on the arm and heads down one of the side hallways leading to the offices. My smile is big when I leave the building, but it's even bigger when I check my phone again later and find a message from Brenna, asking to meet me for coffee.
8. Brenna
I already couldn't stop thinking about Ryan, but when the bouquet showed up at my office door? My stomach did little summersaults at the sight of it.
It means he's thinking about me, too.
Ashton had NEVER bought me gifts, even when we were "together." He also never paid for my meals. So to have a seriously hot hockey player wanting to buy me flowers, take me to dinner, and just be around me in general? I must be dreaming.
Natalie immediately comes into my office after the administrative assistant stops off the flowers, kicking my door shut behind her. "What a gorgeous bouquet! Who is it from?"
"Oh, uh, he's just a friend. I think." Wow, way to go, Brenna.
Natalie squeals in delight as she perches on the edge of my desk. She sniffs one of the flowers. "Looks like he wants to be more than friends to me!" She winks at me. "You get 'em, Tiger."
I laugh, flushed with embarrassment. "Natalie, you're acting like this is the 8th grade and I just got my first boyfriend."
"Psh, Brenna. I know these aren't from what's-his-ass so this practically IS your first boyfriend!" Natalie, like everyone else in my life, hates Ashton with a fiery passion. "What's-his-ass doesn't count, obviously."
"Well, thanks, Natalie. I don't know if I'd call him my boyfriend yet though. Things are a little confusing right now."
Natalie leans in closer to me. "How so?"
I give her a brief rundown of what happened yesterday, completely skipping over our initial meeting. I like Natalie well enough, but we aren't that close, and she can be quite the gossip.
"I like this guy already, Brenna," she says, hopping off my desk and heading for the door. "Keep him close. And keep me updated."
Eventually, I decide to ask to meet with Ryan for coffee. We need to figure out where this may or may not be going, before I get my heart involved.
Ryan is waiting for me at the coffee shop I chose partway between work and my house. His shoulders are nearly bursting out of his shirt. I feel my stomach do another flip as his eyes meet mine and an easy smile graces his scruffy face. "Hi Brenna."
"Hi Ryan," I say shyly as I sit down across from him. The tables here must have been made for people under 5 feet tall, so Ryan looks like a giant here.
"I would have gotten you a drink, but I don't know what you like." He stands up from the table. "What would you like?"
"You don't have to get it for me," I say quickly, starting to stand.
Ryan's hand on mine stops me in my tracks. "Please, I would like to get you a drink. What would you like?"
I sink back into my seat. "A small hot chocolate, please." He smiles at me and turns to head for the counter. It presents me the perfect opportunity to admire all 6'2" of muscle and sex appeal.
The man is built like a god. He could probably lift a car by himself and not break a sweat. I didn't realize I was so interested in arms and shoulders but I certainly am now. And that ass! It must have been custom-built by the Lord himself.
I snap back to my senses when Ryan sits down across from me, and hands me my hot chocolate with a smirk. "See something you like, Brenna?" He breaks into a grin when I blush. I hide behind my cup, sipping gingerly on my hot chocolate as my embarrassment subsides.
"So I think we should talk about last night," Ryan leads off. I cross my legs and run my finger around the edge of my cup. "Did I read the signs wrong?" he asks gently.
I run my finger around the cup a few more times, biting my lip. "No, you didn't. But... what are we doing here, Ryan? What is this? Because what I thought was a one-night-stand has suddenly become dinner, flowers, and now coffee."
"You're the one who suggested coffee," he teases me. "And I thought it was just one night too." He leans back, pausing, one hand stroking his bearded chin. "But the next morning, I was still thinking about you. And then yesterday at dinner, I had such a great time with you... I want to keep getting to know you."
My head is spinning. "I-I'm nothing special."
"Why in the world would you think that?"
My palms are sweaty and I feel the panic bubbling up in my chest, along with the familiar, overwhelming feeling of never being good enough. I can't control what comes bursting out of me. "Because you're a hockey-playing Canadian demigod and I'm just... me."
Ryan is silent, staring me down, his expression unreadable. We are both frozen, eyes locked with each other. After several moments, he suddenly stands up, grabbing my hand and urging me up with him. I barely have time to grab my purse before he's pulling me out the door of the coffee shop into a back alley.
His large hands grab my shoulders and gently - but with fervor - push me up against the brick wall. Shallow breaths escape my lips and all I hear is a low hum in my head. I can see nothing but this man, standing in front of me, his hand cupping my cheek.
Ryan slowly brings his face within inches of mine, closing the distance between us. After an agonizing moment of tension and terror, his mouth seals over mine.
All at once, my body is ablaze. Every sense kicks into overdrive as our tongues intertwine. A moan escapes me and it seems to kick Ryan up a notch as he sucks on my bottom lip.
My mind is on fire. Why do I have such a connection with this guy? Why do we keep ending up like this? And why am I constantly grasping at the very edges of my good judgment when I'm around him?
It was supposed to be just one night, but my resolve is disappearing with every moment I spend with him. With every kiss he plants on my lips, I am pulled in deeper by this man.
We break apart after a few hot and heavy minutes, both panting heavily, and his intense crystalline eyes are locked with mine. "You're amazing, Brenna. Please... stop running from this."
9. Ryan
We barely make it through the front door of my house before my shirt comes off. I kick the door shut with my foot and help Brenna out of her shirt, which is stuck on her ponytail. Her milky skin is smooth, with lean muscle and gentle curves on a delicate frame. I take a moment to appreciate the beautiful woman standing in front of me.
But only a moment.
I seal my mouth over hers, my hands reaching for her ass, pulling her off her feet and her pelvis up to mine. She wraps her legs around my torso and grinds against me, causing me to involuntarily groan into her mouth. Still kissing her, I hold the back of her head with one hand and unclasp her bra with the other, discarding the garment without any grace. That's probably how her last one ended up being left here, but I'm too horny to care. I palm her breast with one hand, the other cupping her ass to support her weight as we grind against each other.
I don't know what it is about this woman, but she drives me crazy in the best way.
She's kissing my neck, her sweet little mouth hot against my skin. My dick is wedged in-between us, begging to be freed. I finally grunt out "Too many clothes." She pauses, nodding, and we disconnect long enough to hastily shove our pants and underwear down our legs. I settle for mine staying pooled at my ankles. I take a second and grab the condom I keep in my wallet and toss it on the table next to us.
I pull Brenna against me and hook her legs around my body again before swinging us both around, roughly pinning her against the foyer wall. Her eyes are full of fire, her blonde hair flowing across her soft, delectable skin.
The first (and last) time I had her naked, we were both a little too intoxicated to fully enjoy each other. But I can tell that this time, it's as if she's seeing me for the first time. Her eyes have been roaming my body appreciatively, her hands running up and down my arms. Knowing she's enjoying what she sees is only serving to ramp me up even more.
I take one of her perky, pink nipples into my mouth and lightly tug on it with my lips, smiling against her breast when she moans in response. She threads her h
ands in my hair, her elbows on my shoulders, supporting her weight in addition to her strong thighs wrapped around me. She's hot and damp against me, grinding herself against my length, and I'm having to restrain myself from just going crazy on her.
I can't hold back much longer, though. The need to be balls deep inside Brenna overwhelms me, and I fumble my hand across the table until I find the familiar foil. I pull her a little higher up on me and roll the condom on underneath her.
"You doing okay?" I ask her.
"Never better," she says breathily, her eyelids heavy. "Just glad I haven't skipped yoga class lately."
I laugh as I navigate my dick to her entrance, feeling how slick she is. I could swear that I feel her whimper under my touch. Gently, I guide myself in, exhaling slowly as she slides down onto me, taking my full length inside herself.
She shifts her weight on me and I groan into her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her skin. My hands on her ass, I urge her up and down my cock, pulling back on each retreat and thrusting into her a little harder each time.
I watch her supple breasts shake with each thrust. Listening to the pitch of her moans rising higher and higher, I amp up the vigor of my thrusts, while urging myself to hang on a little longer.
I pull her arms from around my neck and, grabbing her hands, pin them to the wall above her head. The sound that escapes her is feral. It only serves to push me harder into her.
It isn't long before her moans turn into screams and I watch as the orgasm rips through her, shredding her before my very eyes. A couple frantic thrusts later and I'm chasing her over the edge, pumping every last bit of myself into her.
Every part of my body is numb with pleasure. We're both panting, her breath tickling my sweat-slicked skin. She leans her head back against the wall behind her, eyes closed, orgasmic bliss in her smile. After a minute, she dismounts me and I quickly dispose of the condom. Our clothes are a haphazard mess all across the foyer floor. I don't even care.
“Shower?” I ask her.
An hour and two more orgasms later, Brenna is tucked up against me under the sheets, her wet hair splayed across the pillow. I trail my hand lazily across her arm, back and forth and in slow, deliberate circles. I don't cuddle puck bunnies, but I don't feel awkward cuddling like this with her.
Everything feels peaceful and comfortable with Brenna, like we've known each other for much longer than just a couple of days.
“Ryan?” her voice is soft, almost dream-like.
“Yes?”
“We haven't eaten yet.” As if on cue, my stomach rumbles.
“Shit,” I say. “I can order a pizza. Is that cool?”
“Yes, please.”
I sit up against the pillow, grabbing my phone off the nightstand and a few clicks later, and a pizza is ordered and on it's way. I toss my phone onto the nightstand and wrap my arm back around her.
“Tell me more about your job,” I say to her. “What do you do, exactly?”
She shifts a bit so she can look at me while she talks. I can see the passion in her eyes before she even begins to speak. “I work in the marketing department for a bio-tech company. Mostly, we focus on ways to use technology to make daily life easier for people who deal with a lot of different conditions – diabetes, insomnia, and seizures, to name a few. We make a lot of smartphone apps, but we are also starting to dabble in wearables like smartwatches.”
“As in apps for the smartwatches?” I ask.
“Apps, or even designing our own wearables,” she says. “We're a small company, so that sort of thing is still a long ways away.”
I roll onto my side so I can face her. “So what do you do for the marketing side of things?”
“My department is responsible for letting the target audience know about our products and projects. My boss, Jackson, handles most of the big stuff, but he delegates a lot of the graphic design stuff to me. Brochures, website and social media graphics, that sort of thing.”
She's clearly passionate about what she does. “That's really neat that you're involved in something that can help so many people.”
“Yeah, it's really rewarding to see and hear how our products have helped someone,” she says, smiling. “I enjoy it a lot.”
“Did you go to school for graphic design?” I ask her. I already know the answer from her social media profile, but I’d rather ask her directly so I don’t feel so stalker-ish about it.
“I did. I went to Northwestern. It's where I met my roommate, Carly.”
I reflect back to the photos I saw on her profile and picture a brunette girl in my mind. “She's the girl who just got engaged, right?”
Brenna’s face flashes dark for just a moment. I would have missed it if I hadn't been looking right at her. “Yes,” is her simple reply.
I want to question her reaction, but I'm stopped by the sound of the doorbell signaling the arrival of pizza. I swing my legs out of bed, slip on my boxers and a pair of athletic shorts, and head to the front door.
Brenna and I lay in bed for several hours, cuddling and talking, getting to know each other. I learn that her favorite food is chicken nuggets, she enjoys listening to disco music, and that she's always wanted to go to Cabo but has never had the chance.
I've also learned that her coffee-colored eyes make my heart pound. Her smile lights up the entire room. Her passion for many things in life is inspiring.
But I've also learned that she doesn't talk about her family – at all. And her reaction when I mentioned Carly’s engagement was confusing at best.
Brenna interests me in a way I haven't been interested in a girl before. Puck bunnies are all vapid, conceited bitches who only care about themselves and getting in bed with hockey players. Brenna isn't like that. She's a breath of fresh air in my stifling world.
10. Brenna
Ryan offers to take me to work the next morning. He drives me home quickly to change so I don't show up to work in yesterday's clothes. Carly had already left for work at the hospital before I stopped by the house so I let Ryan follow me in, but I make him wait in the living room.
Thankfully I had texted Carly late last night to let her know where I was so she wouldn't worry, and she had set a clean outfit out on my bed for me, along with a note that says “You go, girl!” I roll my eyes as I throw it away.
Dressed and freshened up, I emerge from my room and walk into the living room. Ryan looks like a giant on our tiny, beat up sofa that Carly picked up from a thrift store for fifty bucks last year. I'm suddenly aware of how dingy, run-down and sad our little house feels, especially in comparison to Ryan’s beautiful, posh home. I hurry him out the door, embarrassment washing over me.
He takes me through the drive thru of the coffee place near my house and, at his insistence, I order a coffee and a bagel. All too soon, we pull up in front of my office building. It feels strange, getting out of his flashy but classy black Audi, breakfast in hand, on time for work. Normally I'm running into the building ten minutes late in a wrinkled outfit and I'm lucky if I even remembered to grab a snack from the fridge that morning.
“Have a great day at work, Brenna,” he smiles at me. “Change some lives today.”
My stomach flip flops and my heart threatens to jump out of my chest. I squeak out a “thanks” and shut the car door, hustling for the doorway of the building.
When I reach the door, I turn back and watch him pull away, merging into the stream of morning traffic, and remind myself to breathe.
Ryan mentioned to me last night that he more than likely won't be able to see me again for a couple days because his father will be in town. He didn't elaborate and I didn't pressure him to, but it seemed like he wasn't thrilled about it.
I completely understand, because if my father ever dared to show his face here, I'd be livid.
Last night feels like a dream – the most wonderful, insane, beautiful, stunning dream. Every moment with Ryan feels like magic. He asked so many questions about me – my likes and dislikes, my pa
ssions, my dreams.
It's unnerving, because this was only supposed to be one night, but I can easily see it becoming something more.
I'm still trying to keep my distance though. I have to protect my heart because he's still Ryan Flynn, Famous Hockey Player and I'm still Brenna Wilson, Plain and Ordinary Nobody.
I made the mistake of looking him up online immediately after getting to work. Photo after photo of him popped up, some of them with various beautiful women. A little clicking led me to discover the term “puck bunny,” which is women who whore themselves out to hockey players. Apparently, there are a lot of them, and they are insanely gorgeous. And insanely slutty.
Of course, in my mind, I know he isn't innocent. But reading these women talk about how they allegedly fucked him back in Philly and even a few back in his hometown of Toronto has my mind spinning.
I can't get my hopes up and I need to stay as detached from him as possible. Famous, gorgeous guys like him don't keep plain girls like me around for long. He's new in town. He will meet new women, get bored with me, move on, and my life will go back to the way it was before he showed up and rocked my world.
Carly meets me for lunch at a cafe near my work that we like to frequent. She works in the Human Resources department at the hospital near my office. She has rigid work hours, and my job is a bit more flexible unless I have a deadline or a conference call. She is already sitting at the table with our food when I arrive.
“Okay Bren – spill! What is happening with you and Ryan?”
“Shush!” I put my hand over her mouth, quieting her like she's a naughty child. “I'll tell you everything, but I need you to bring it down a couple notches.”
“Okay, okay, I will try to keep calm,” she says with a grin. “This is a big deal though. You stayed the night with him. You haven't even slept with anyone since Fuckface. And I thought this was just a one night stand?”