Good Morning Heartache
Page 13
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It had been exactly what Alexis was looking for. The day went by slowly, peacefully, and she rarely thought of the crap that waited for her at home. Ryan eventually turned out to be really good company—when he finally returned from his jog—and after some prodding, she learned that he was recently passed over for a promotion because of his lack of social skills. She guessed that this mini vacation was as good for him as it was for her.
They spent the afternoon drinking, margaritas for her and beer for him. Sue was nice enough to bring over some cold cuts for lunch.
Ryan decided that it would be best if they stayed in for dinner because they had been drinking all afternoon; though, Alexis had stopped sipping margaritas several hours earlier. She was pretty sure that he didn't want to get into her car while she was driving sober and would do anything to avoid any unnecessary driving. He even made her another margarita after she suggested that they go out.
Instead, they sat on floor pillows in front of the wood-burning stove eating pizza. The cold breeze of the evening blew on their sun-warmed backs, and the room was lit only with the pinks and oranges of the setting sun and the flicker of the fire.
“Why don't you quit?” Alexis asked through a cheesy bite.
“Quit what?”
She understood his confusion. They weren't talking about his job and hadn't been for a long while, but it bothered her that he could just submit to being passed over by his bosses so easily. Ryan seemed angry when he was talking about losing the promotion to someone else. It was the first time that he really seemed to care about anything, and the first time that she really understood why he was so adamant about working on his social skills.
“Your job. They don't deserve you.”
Ryan glared at her a little, but she just shrugged it off. “That's not how it works. I can't just quit a prestigious architecture firm. If I want to get noticed for my designs, I have to be in an influential crowd. And they're it.”
Alexis took another bite and washed it down with her margarita. It was so salty she grimaced for a moment before she was able to continue. “There's got to be another way. You’re a freaking workhorse.”
“I don't know of one.” He picked up the wrought-iron fire poker and shifted the logs for a little bit. “How'd we get on this again? Like I told you before, it's out of my control. I just have to accept it and try harder from this point on.”
“But you’re not trying harder. You’re here with me on a weekend when you’re usually working. I don’t think you want this as much as you say.”
“Drop it,” he said sternly. Then he changed his tone and added a softer, “Please.”
Alexis wanted to protest, but she didn't have the heart to make him continue. Ryan had apparently accepted his fate. She was jealous because she wished she could accept the fact that she wasn't a writer—just someone who wrote something once.
With her bare foot, Alexis pushed the half-full pizza box across the wooden floor and out of the way. She was trying to frame a question that she had wanted to ask all day but couldn't figure out a way to ask it without it sounding like an insult, but she couldn't hold back any more. She had to know. “Why are you like me?” was what came out.
He narrowed his blue eyes at her, amusement apparent in them. “What do you mean?”
“You're thirty-something. You’re alone. Why don't you want a relationship? Why haven't you staked your claim on a woman?” She feared for a moment that he was going to mistake her motivation for asking the question. That he was going to think that she wanted a relationship, and she shifted uncomfortably on her cushion away from him.
Ryan turned his gaze to the popping fire and responded flatly, “I don't think that I would be good at a relationship. No one deserves to have a spouse who’s guaranteed to fail.”
“I think you'd be a good significant other. You’re loyal to a fault, you listen well, and after a while, your reprehensible social skills are not as apparent. You work hard, and you're a fantastic lover.” Even as she was rambling off the reasons he would be great for a girl, Alexis was scolding herself. What the hell was she doing? If she were in his shoes and these things were being said to her, she would have booked it by now.
But Ryan just sat with a blank expression on his face, reflecting on what she was saying. He didn't seem as startled as she was and was considering something seriously.
“I do work hard. Too hard. I don't spend much time not working. That's not fair in a relationship. I don't have time for it, especially now.”
Alexis watched as he lowered his head. The long strands of brown hair veiled his telling eyes. She had a lot of respect for what he just said. It took a real man to understand his limitations, even if the only one was time.
Ryan turned his head and looked into her eyes. “Besides, with the exception of you, I don't trust women. They’re too fickle, and even when they know what they want, they don't ask for it directly. They spend too much time playing games. That's what I like about you, Alexis. You don't mess around; you don't try to bullshit the situation. You just tell it like it is. It's a relief that I don’t have to try and figure out what game you’re playing.”
Alexis felt a wave of gratitude wash through her. No one had really appreciated her for what she was, the only thing she felt she could be. She'd hurt too many feelings and cut too many ties for people to appreciate her honesty. Especially a man she’d slept with.
Before she knew what she was doing or what she really wanted, Alexis leaned over to Ryan, placed a hand on his strong, rounded shoulder, and kissed him on the cheek just above the trimmed beard that was barely more than a five o'clock shadow.
Ryan lifted his head and turned to her. Their faces were only a few inches apart, and Alexis could feel his warm breath on her chin. Alexis's heart pounded with anticipation. She wanted to lean in and chew on his full bottom lip. Her loins warmed and tingled, the sensations growing with each breath.
Ryan raised his hands and ran his fingers through her hair until he was gently holding the back of her head. He pulled her toward him and then down and placed his lips on the top of her forehead for a long moment. Alexis closed her eyes and moved to find his mouth with hers, but he released her completely and stood up.
“I'm going to go upstairs for a little bit,” he said and his long strides quickly took him out of the room.
Alexis sat in a puddle of disappointment. What the hell had just happened? She had never shared an intimate moment like that with a man and had him take off the next moment without taking the sex he was fairly due.
Every inch of her skin was alive and begging for his touch and warmth. She heard his heavy footsteps on the floor above her, calling her to him.
She sprung up from the floor and bounded across the room to the narrow staircase. The silkiness of her long, draping tank top heightened the awareness of her skin and want for touch. Ryan's touch.
Alexis stopped in front of the closed door. Her whole body was conscious that he was on the other side, but she couldn't raise a closed fist to knock. It was too dangerous. Ryan was someone she knew. After today, she might even consider him a friend, and she couldn't bed him and forget him. It would mean something. At least to him.
She lifted her heels to turn on the balls of her feet and tiptoe away, but the door opened with a swell of cool night air engulfing her, and she fell back on her heels. Ryan nearly ran her over, but the end result was that their bodies were lightly touching from chests to thighs. Ryan had removed his t-shirt and was wearing only his dry swimsuit.
Taking a sharp breath in, Alexis caught his musk, and her skin set fire as her breasts rose and pressed against his chest more fully. Alexis began stammering something; she wasn't sure what, an apology maybe, but before she could turn away, he was holding her head in his hands and his mouth was covering hers with hot, wet kisses.
His tongue slid into her mouth, urgently searching for hers. He slid his arms down around her waist and pulled her tight against his hard
body, his stiff erection pressed firmly against her pelvis.
Alexis laced her fingers into his hair, rose onto her toes to deepen the kiss. Their tongues tangled and kneaded one another. Ryan tasted like salt and beer, and she wanted to drink as much as she could from him. Alexis begged him for more by pulling him even closer and tighter against the front of her body.
Her mind told her to stop—to find someone else. There would be plenty of people in town that she could get her rocks off with, but her body pushed forward with Ryan. Every hair that rose on her arms and stomach was for lust for him, and no one else would do. She ignored the warning of her mind, and immersed herself in the contact between his body and hers.
Ryan slid his hands underneath her bottom and pulled her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pulled her into the bedroom, closing the door with the weight of their knotted bodies. He carried her to the soft bed and lay her down on it. As he stepped away from her, her body rebelled. She grabbed at his arms and shoulders trying to pull him on top of her, but he remained firm and even deprived her of his kiss.
She whimpered with disappointment, but he just smiled at her and said, “It'll be worth it.” He ran a strong, rough hand under her fuchsia tank top. As he touched her skin, her body raised up to meet his hand. His hand glided to the bottom edge of her black lace bandeau bra and slipped under the elastic band. As he leaned forward and placed his burning mouth on the indentation on the front of her neck, he reached for one of her nipples and twisted it gently between two fingers before releasing it and massaging her full, round breast in his large hand.
He yanked her shirt and bra over her head and tossed them on the other side of the bed. Teasing a nipple with his tongue, he ran a hand down her flat stomach to the button on her shorts. Effortlessly, he flicked it open with two fingers while he planted wet kisses on her chin and cheeks.
Alexis wanted him on her, his weight crushing her so she could barely breathe, but he lay beside her, languidly teasing her breasts with his tongue and slipped his hand into her panties. Two of his fingers parted her flesh, finding her moistness. He ran the length of one finger along her clitoris. A sharp, intense pleasure shot up her stomach, through her belly button, and into her throat that couldn't contain it, releasing it into a loud, eye-rolling moan.
Ryan stopped nibbling on her breast and his cerulean eyes scanned her face. A smile slowly crept across his lips.
“I told you it’d be worth it. Just a little more.”
The warm ache radiated through her body, pulsing with every stroke of Ryan’s finger, and she didn't know how much more she could handle without letting go completely.
Ryan's mouth didn't return to her nipple. Instead, he made short work of removing her shorts and panties and planted a kiss on her newly revealed hip bone and then on her inner thigh, so close to her lips that his rough beard brushed against them abrasively, erotically. He moved his mouth to her center. She tried to protest, but he hushed her and moved in.
He put deep, wet pressure on her clit, and she moaned and jolted. Her thighs pressed against his cheeks, and the scratchiness of his beard against her smooth skin aroused her further. He remained there as her panting became faster and more labored, unyielding until the grips of orgasm ripped through her, shattering her reality for several moments.
When Alexis came back to tangibility, a naked Ryan was hovering over her examining her carefully. His eyes smiled, but his voice was sincere. “Are you ready for me?”
Even the simplest words escaped her, and all she could do was nod back at him. As he pushed into her, she arched into his body, forcing herself against the rigidness of his abs and chest. Alexis grabbed fistfuls of the quilt to keep herself from climaxing again.
Ryan moved in and out of her tenderly, and they locked eyes as she let him make love to her like it mattered. With each pump of his hips, Alexis could feel her body being driven closer to the edge. She pulled him close to her and gnawed on the curve of his neck, then his ear. She whispered softly, “More, Ryan, give me more.”
He swept her up into his arms as he stood, and she wrapped herself around him again. He steadied her body on the bedroom door, and pushed more completely into her. Alexis cried out, and he thrust into her with greater vigor.
Her muscles tensed around him, and he grabbed her bottom lip with his teeth as he throbbed inside of her. The sensation sent her over the edge, and she exploded before flopping like a rag doll in his arms.
Chapter 11
The soft light of the rising sun woke Alexis from peaceful, sound sleep. She blinked several times, trying to adjust her eyes quickly, and found something in her bed that she hadn’t found there in over seven years—a man. Upon closer inspection, Alexis realized that it was not her bed at all, but her parents' beach house bed. It was the first time in a long time that she felt kind of icky after sex, but it wasn’t just after sex.
As she looked over at a sleeping Ryan, his mouth agape and his lungs were taking in deep, cleansing breaths, she wondered to herself, “What have I done?” She broke a very important rule: no sleepovers.
Ryan seemed undisturbed by the dawn and her movements, but she very carefully slid the light blankets off of her naked body and swung her legs over the side of the bed, hoping not to wake him. She quickly gathered her clothes that were strewn about the room and debated with herself as to whether or not she should take the time to put them on before making her final escape. On the one hand, her bedroom wasn't that far, and the house was mostly empty. On the other, there was a very good chance that in her dash down to the other end of the hallway Mick, Sue, or both would see her nude body in flight.
Eventually she decided that it would be worse to be caught by Ryan, and she quickly but quietly opened the bedroom door, closed it behind her, and booked it down the narrow hallway in front of three empty bedrooms, a bathroom, the staircase, and finally into the safety of her own bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Alexis looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was just before 5:30. She both loved and hated the sun at that moment. Looking at her untouched bed, she considered climbing in and trying to sleep for a little longer, but she knew she’d just be wasting her time.
She moved to the small bathroom attached to her bedroom and turned on the shower. It wasn't a luxurious shower, just a plain pull-the-curtain stall, but it was the only place where she figured she wouldn't be bothered, at least not for some time, while she scolded herself.
Is there any way he won't have misunderstood what happened last night? Why did she do it then?
What made her the angriest was that she had jeopardized his opinion of her. She didn't mean to lead him on; she didn't want to be dishonest. In the moments they shared, she didn't feel like she was doing anything wrong. It didn't feel wrong until now, but there was no way to express that to someone without hurting their feelings.
She let the water beat down on her for about half an hour before she submitted to getting out, but it was only because the hot water had turned unbearably cold. She rushed through her morning routine, trying not to focus on anything in particular, but rather just to get it done and face the day that almost certainly had horrible things waiting for her. She pulled on a bright red cotton dress that stopped mid-calf and flowed from high on her waist.
Slowly opening the door just a crack, Alexis bent over as she peered down the hallway, but straightened when she saw that Ryan’s door was still closed. She hated him a little bit for being able to sleep in the sunshine and with the gulls squawking. Alexis wanted to focus on the things that she hated about him—sleeping in, eating three quarters of the pizza last night—but even those things made him charming.
She went back into her room and closed the door behind her without a sound. Her bag rested on a small wooden chair, and she went over to it to pull out her notebook. Might as well try to be productive while she waited for the inevitable.
Quietly, she tiptoed back toward the stairs, her gaze shooting to the
closed door in front of her with each creak and groan of the floorboards. It remained unmoving, and there was no sign that the room's occupant was doing anything other than sleeping.
Alexis chose a round stone table to sit at on the covered porch facing the ocean. Her tan had deepened enough for the weekend, and the sun was starting to wear on her. She took a deep breath, and her senses were filled with the salty grit of the ocean. As she exhaled she wrote “Once upon a time” but instead of stopping, her pen continued to scribble across and then down the page forming letters, words, and sentences.
Loneliness. She wrote about the tragedy of being so completely alone. About being in a crowd and not being noticed and living each day with the hope that someone would approach and wish to be a part of one’s life.
Tearing through pages she kept writing, occasionally ripping out a page, crumbling it up, and throwing it on the table. But it didn't discourage her. It inspired her. The constant movement of the waves crashing on the beach and the wind off the water encouraged her further.
There was deep pain in her character, and while Alexis knew exactly who the character was—as well as she knew herself—she didn't know where she was going or what was going to happen to her until she got there. Though Amelia, the protagonist, died alone, her death didn't go unnoticed. She watched from heaven as hundreds showed up to her funeral because she touched their lives, and she hadn't even realized it. She didn't realize how much the world wanted to be a part of her life, as much as she wanted it to be a part.
As Alexis wrote the final sentence, she pushed her pen firmly into the page to mark her completeness with a big fat period. She smiled at the notebook. It didn't matter if what she wrote was any good. She wrote something. There was black ink mussing up page after page, and she loved it.
When she looked up from the pages, Alexis saw that Ryan was standing at the corner of the house staring at her. She figured she probably looked like a mess. She had pulled herself into a ball on the armless folding chair. Her hair had air dried with help from the dense breeze, and she had tossed it back and forth fervently with her fingers as she wrote. Her hands had become inky from the pen, and she was surrounded by paper. While most of the time this would bother her, especially when he was standing there looking like a male model that had jumped out of the pages of a magazine, she was too proud of herself.