Fall in Love

by Anthology

  The image disappears but there is something there. Indistinct and white…

  Bed canopy. The beautiful bed canopy that I loved when I walked in the room. The pattern of the fabric fooled me and my nightmare-ridden brain thought it saw a ghost. I feel embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

  Tenderly, he brushes his fingers along my cheek. “Don’t be. You had a bad dream. Everything is all right.”

  He turns me on my side and spoons against me, his arms around me. Spooning with him proves to be spectacular. His warm chest presses to my back, his soft cock nestles against my bare ass. My feet rest against his shins because his legs are so long.

  There’s nothing to fear. I’m in bed with Ryan. Safe.

  I’m not going to think about how much I wish this could be the rest of my life. For right now I have tonight. Tomorrow night. Two nights of perfect bliss.

  ***

  Giggling, I put a privacy hanger on the door, and Ryan and I spend the whole of Saturday in bed. We discover the glassed-in shower is too small for two occupants, much less sex, so that’s a fantasy I don’t get to indulge. After four bouts of love-making—twice on the bed and twice on the carpeted floor—I get way too daring.

  More daring than just slipping my hand between us to play with my clit and make sure I climax. Ryan loves having me come on him. I don’t know if he can feel my pussy tug at his cock when I come, but I really feel it. I don’t just get myself to a climax once, but as many times as I can, which thrills him.

  My sudden urge to be really daring takes me by surprise.

  We’re stretched out on the floor in front of the fire. Ryan is wonderful at making and tending fires. He goes hunting in the fall—or he used to before college. He’s a superb shot, and he knows how to hang game. As a teenager in high school, he kept his dad and himself fed in meat all year with his hunting. He also had to do grocery shopping or there would be nothing to eat. Since my mom worked lots of hours at the diner, Ryan and I used to do groceries together, like an old married couple.

  Anyway, I love the feel of the carpet against my naked body, though I did get rug burns from pumping away with Ryan. So did he, when I rode him on the rug. I loved doing that, loved the way his eyes went wide as he watched my breasts bounce over him.

  Now, lying naked on the rug, I feel all sensuous and wicked and delicious.

  And suddenly I think of the club, Tied, and feel…kinky.

  Jonathon’s words come back to me. That Ryan may be into bondage, and he’s never told me. I keep secrets from him. He must have kept some things from me.

  I just want to do something naughty. I yearn to do it, and I can’t put the thought of it out of my mind.

  I get up, feeling tingly with desire and nerves. I go to where my coat is hanging in the closet and unwind my scarf. When I turn back, Ryan is sitting up on the rug, watching me with curiosity. He’s naked, his legs bent, elbows resting on his knees, and I can see his long cock isn’t soft and dangling anymore. It’s growing, getting thicker, straightening and lifting. He’s aroused again. It’s amazing to watch it stand up all on its own.

  I have the scarf wrapped around my two wrists. I look like I’m tied up and he got hard.

  Does that mean Jonathon is right?

  I’m really in the mood to do something naughty. I’ve vowed to be good, but maybe I don’t have to be totally good.

  “I’d kind of like…” I pause. How noncommittal can you be? I am aching inside and completely turned on. “I want you to tie me up.”

  He jerks in surprise. Oh God, I totally misread his excitement. He looks more stunned than I’ve ever seen him. “You want that?” he asks.

  Desperately I reach for my go-to place for rationalizing sexual knowledge. “I read an article about it in Cosmo. How to introduce bondage into your relationship for fun and pleasure.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before.” His brow furrows.

  “We don’t have to.” I’m worried. He looks tense. Have I made him start to wonder whether I really am the nice girl who remained a virgin until she met him, like he thinks I am?

  I would have waited for him if I’d had a choice. I got so screwed up by what happened to me and I made things worse, by screwing up on my own accord.

  “If you want it, I’m willing to try,” he says. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it. Being a Dom—that’s what it’s called, right?”

  I wind and unwind the scarf nervously around my wrist. “I don’t want you to start ordering me around. I just thought it would be sexy to be tied up.”

  He smiles, looking boyish. “I guess it would be.”

  But when I hand him the scarf, he makes a slight grimace and looks so awkward, my heart aches for him. I shouldn’t have put him in this situation.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly. “I would never hurt you.”

  “This isn’t about being hurt. It’s just fantasy.”

  “I’ve seen women be dominated,” he says. “It wasn’t pretty. When a woman is really under a man’s power but he acts like a bastard with his power…” His voice trails off. “It’s wrong.”

  I go to take the scarf from his hands, but he says, “I just want to make you feel good, Mia.” He wraps it around one of my wrists. His deep blue eyes hold mine, gazing me with so much heat it stuns me. The feel of the scarf on my skin, when I know what it’s for, makes me wet.

  He ties my two hands together. He’s good at it, winding the scarf to bind them close, then tying it in a knot that’s tight but doesn’t hurt.

  I lie back and hold my bound hands over my head, my naked body presented in complete invitation.

  I gasp as he goes inside me, his cock covered by a condom.

  I am so turned on. Utterly hot and aroused, and I’m so slick, it’s amazing. We rock together and he shifts position to please me. But I can’t get there, as usual, so I moan and whimper, and pulse my muscles to pretend I’m climaxing.

  Finally he gives a soft groan and his eyes shut. When he comes, he puts his mouth over mine and kisses me. A hard, wild kiss.

  He draws back and pulls out. He unties my hands, rubs my wrists. He treats me as gently as the Dom did with his sub at Tied.

  He seemed to like it. I don’t know quite what to say. Introducing fantasy has just made us kind of awkward with each other.

  My tummy growls and I’m glad of the chance to giggle and point out, “I guess we should eat.”

  “Yeah, we should.”

  He stands up and draws me into his embrace. I get up on my tiptoes and we hug tightly. My breasts brush his chest and I run my hands all over his broad back. I love you. Love you. Love you. And I hope I haven’t scared you or made you start to doubt me.

  We have lunch in the tavern, guzzling coffees, and eating burgers along with Caesar salad. Sex gives you an appetite, sharing a meal with the man you love makes even the simplest food amazingly good. We debate condiments for burgers—caramelized onions, deep fried onions, blue cheese, arugula, and guacamole—since in Milltown, exotic means they have relish in a squeeze bottle.

  “About school,” I say. “I want to help you study as much as I can. You could email stuff or mail it to me, and we could go through it together by phone or by email.”

  “I can’t ask that of you. Your mom told me you’re working late every night.”

  It’s true, but I won’t let Ryan flounder and fail. I just won’t. “I’m finally catching up,” I lie. “You can do this, Ryan. You’re smart.”

  But his father spent years making Ryan believe he’s stupid.

  He’s quiet after that, and we devour our food. We go up to our room again and tumble back into bed. This time I don’t suggest anything to do with bondage. I get on top. Looking down at Ryan’s gorgeous face, I have to wonder why I needed anything more than straight up sex with this beautiful, incredible guy.

  ***

  It’s Dad—my stepfather.

  For some reason, he comes into my room at t
he inn. I don’t know where Ryan is. My stepfather pushes me toward the bed.

  I can’t say anything. I want to shout no. I’m not going to let him do anything to me. I was a coward before, but I can’t be one now. Not when I’m with Ryan. I can’t just let this happen to me, it’s wrong to do it to Ryan too. But even though I shout at the top of my lungs, no sound comes out.

  No. No. No.

  He pushes me down on the bed. He sits on the bed beside me. He isn’t holding me down. I can run. I can get away.

  Why am I not moving? I try to move but nothing happens.

  The shower is not running anymore. Horrified I watch the bathroom door open. Ryan is going to come out. See me lying here. He will think I want to do this.

  I thrash desperately to try to make myself move—

  My lids force their way open and the first thing I see is a large male body over me. I try to push him away, wild with panic—

  I realize I’m looking up at Ryan’s horrified face.

  Oh God, it was a dream and I completely freaked out.

  Ryan must think I’m crazy because of what he’s seen. In two nights, I’ve had two insane nightmares.

  Ryan backs off, looking hurt and confused. He’s hurt because I was fighting to shove him away. I sit up and reach out to him.

  “I’m so sorry. I had this weird dream and when I woke up I didn’t realize it was you. I panicked.”

  He strokes my hair. “You’re having nightmares about the guy who attacked you.”

  That wasn’t what I dreamed about tonight, but I lie and say, “Yes.”

  He pulls me back down on the bed, both arms wrapped around me. Last night it was one arm, tonight he’s using two. He figures I need extra soothing. I love him for it.

  But I can’t get to sleep for hours. All my memories come flooding back. All the things that happened. Things that make me ashamed and make me hate myself for not having the courage to fight. Ryan’s asleep and I hear his gentle breathing.

  I lie in the dark, eyes open, and tears drip to my cheeks.

  ***

  Everything is haunting me. It’s driving me crazy. I’m scared about the stalker, but it’s the memories that are flooding back that are really killing me.

  I can’t talk to Ryan about it.

  What I have to do is hide it from him. I don’t know why this is happening to me. It has to stop. When I’m caught up in the nightmares, I say things. I talk in my sleep. Fortunately my words don’t make sense, but I’m scared I’ll eventually say something coherent that reveals something about my past.

  I know I should be honest. If he knew the truth, I’d have nothing to worry about.

  But I fear if he knew the truth, he would be gone. He believes I’m a nice girl. What I have been for much of my life is a screwed-up girl. And how would he feel if he learns that I’ve kind of lied to him all along by making him think I’m someone I’m not?

  After we have Sunday brunch in the inn’s elegant restaurant—I convince Ryan to go in and no one seems to mind his jeans, plaid shirt, and motorcycle boots—we go back up to the room and I pack my stuff. “You should go back to school, Ryan. But I don’t want you to have to drive there. Couldn’t you fly?”

  He grins. “I need to get the bike back home.”

  The sun is shining, the temperature has gone up, and all the snow has disappeared. It would be safe for him to ride.

  “I don’t want to go yet, Mia. I want to stay here—to look after you.”

  I’m about to argue when my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans. I pull it out and look at it. Jonathon has sent an invitation to an impromptu party at his place tonight.

  ***

  Ryan is impressed by Jonathon’s amazing house. We dance together, then Ryan grabs a beer while I have a glass of wine. I see Lara, but not Jonathon.

  Seeing him when I’m with Ryan should not be an issue. I don’t know why I’m nervous.

  We head to the elaborate buffet, pushing through the huge crowd to grab some food.

  “A college guy really owns this place?” Ryan asks, his expression one of complete awe.

  “Well, he’s actually twenty-four, and he’s still in college for reasons of his own,” I explain. “He comes from a wealthy family, and he’s made his own money too, through investments in business start-ups.”

  A tall guy with long black hair overhears. “Jonathon Powell has a private fortune of like thirty million. Plus he owns his own BDSM club.”

  Ryan frowns a bit at that. I’d explained to him this afternoon that Jonathon was the guy who rescued me from the stalker. And I asked Ryan to tie me up. Is he wondering if that was where I got turned on to the idea?

  I don’t have anything to hide, other than the depth of my friendship with Jonathon, which hasn’t been sexual. I think what bothers me so much is that Jonathon knows my secrets. If Ryan were to learn that, would he feel betrayed? Would I understand if Ryan had confided things to a girl at his college that he’d never told me?

  I’d like to think I would look at that logically. I suspect I wouldn’t.

  “He’s not worth that much,” I tell Ryan. “More like twenty million.”

  At one point, I leave Ryan to go to the washroom. As usual, it takes me a while to find one to use. When I get out and try to work through the crowd, I walk right into Jonathon.

  He lifts my hand to his lips, startling me. He gives me a Regency-style kiss that brushes across my knuckles. “How are you, Mia?” He asks me about my weekend, about how things were with Ryan.

  “Good. Confused.” I need to talk about what happened—the nightmares about my stepfather, and the way the memories keep clawing at me like the hounds of hell.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing with Ryan. That’s been fantastic. But I need to talk to you, just for a minute. Could we go somewhere private?” I hold up my hands. “Not your bedroom.”

  He leads me to another room, takes a keychain from his pocket, and unlocks it. It’s a gallery filled with artwork. Paintings. Statues of marble and of metal. I’ve never seen it before.

  Beside a huge statue of a horse, fashioned out of steel, I spill out everything. The nightmares. The memories.

  “You’re freaked over the stalker, angel.” Jonathon takes my hands.

  “It’s more than that. I keep thinking about the past. Stuff I never let myself remember. I can’t seem to help it.”

  He draws me close to him, and I let him because Jonathon is my friend and I feel so shaky and scared.

  It feels so good to confide. “I spent most of today telling Ryan he has to get back to school, but after I had all those nightmares, he doesn’t want to leave yet. He wants to look after me.”

  Jonathon runs his hand gently down my arm. “Did you tell him about the nightmares?”

  “No. I let him think I was reliving the stalker attack.”

  “Why don’t you talk to him?”

  “I—I can’t.” My throat is tight. “I can’t tell him any of that stuff. He’s going to think…I’m weird. Gross. Damaged goods. The truth is that I am, but I don’t want him to know. He deserves the good, sweet girl I’ve pretended to be.”

  Finally, I admit, “I don’t know what to do. I’m lying to him and he deserves better than that. But I can’t bear to lose him. And I’m too ashamed to let him know the truth.” I start to cry.

  Jonathon’s arms go around me. He holds me for several minutes while I cry so hard I can’t speak. I sputter and hiccup and finally manage to get words out.

  “I need to tell him to go, but he won’t listen,” I blubber.

  I hear a deep, masculine voice say, “Mia?”

  Oh. God. I pull away from Jonathon.

  It’s Ryan. He’s standing there, and just saw me wrapped tight in Jonathon’s arms, leaning against Jonathon’s chest and crying into his sweater. Jonathon’s beautiful dark green sweater is stained with my tears.

  I don’t know how much Ryan heard, but I bet he heard me tell Jonathon that I ha
d to tell him to leave.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I expect Ryan is going to walk away from me.

  But Jonathon lets me go. Despite Ryan’s look of surprise—my heart wrenches to see the shock and confusion playing in his blue eyes—Jonathon walks toward him, wearing a friendly smile. As he reaches Ryan, he sticks out his hand.

  “You’re Mia’s boyfriend. She’s told me a lot about you. You’re a lucky guy. I was the one who found Mia the night she was attacked. She’s still pretty shaken up. Sometimes she gets upset, out of nowhere—” Jonathon turns to me. “Like just now. I just wanted to hug her and make her feel better.”

  Jonathon makes the hug sound innocent and natural, which it was. Why do I feel guilty? There wasn’t anything sexual about it, but I feel I shouldn’t have let Jonathon hold me in his arms.

  I think I feel so bad because that embrace represents the emotional connection I have with Jonathon. I’ve never wanted an emotional connection with a guy without wanting to be physically close to him too. What I feel for Jonathon, this trust and friendship, is new to me. Just as it is new to me to have love like I do with Ryan.

  Ryan steps forward and I tense. He clasps Jonathon’s hand.

  “Thanks for being there for Mia,” Ryan says. He and Jonathon do a masculine hug—a brief embrace, a clasp of each other’s shoulders, then they break apart.

  I’m a bit breathless. I realize Ryan and Jonathon are the two guys I love the most in the world—just in different ways.

  Pain flashes in Ryan’s eyes. “I can’t bear to think about what could have happened if you weren’t there.”

  Jonathon gives a slightly embarrassed smile. “Don’t think about. That didn’t happen.” In a lighter tone, he adds, “It’s great you came to see Mia.”

  He knows I didn’t tell Ryan what happened, but he’s playing dumb. Which is probably for the best.

  “Her mom told me what happened,” Ryan says.

  Is he now thinking that the reason I didn’t tell him is because there is something between Jonathon and I?