Stolen Innocence

by S. M. Stryker

  I, of course, am mortified. My face turns a bright shade of red, and I throw my hands over my face in embarrassment. I slowly lift a finger off my face to look into his green eyes. He is holding me for much longer than necessary.

  "Fourth times is a charm?" I whisper shyly.

  He chuckles, and the vibration moves through me. "Yes, I guess it is, so you were paying attention to me. " Paying attention? How could I not pay attention to that face, I'm not dead.

  He very slowly puts me down. I swear he is God's gift to all women. He is dressed casual today; he is in worn jeans with holes at the knees that are tight in all the right places. A white chambray shirt with the top two buttons undone completes the look. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Oh my God!

  “Are you okay?” he asks, with a sly grin.

  All I can do is keep staring into those eyes and nod, so compelling, and that dimple…I just wanted to eat him up. What am I thinking? Better yet, what is HE thinking?

  I try to talk, but it comes out as a mere whisper. “Yes, thanks to you... again. I’m usually not this clumsy,” I try to explain, as I scamper to get myself together again. Then as if another person, I stand up straight square my shoulders and asks "Maybe I should be asking you a question. Are you following me?” I ask with a sheepish grin.

  He tilts his head to one side as if he is considering my question. “No, but if I knew you worked here, I would certainly be filling my library with more books.” He smiled at me with laughter in his voice and eyes, winking at me.

  He winked at me! God, that is sexy! But hell, he's got a library! now THAT'S sexy!

  “You ran off so quickly each time we've literally run into each other I was starting to get a complex, do I have bad breath or look like an ogre?" I can't speak, I look up at him and shake my head no. "I didn’t get your name, and today I'm not going to let you run away from me,” he says, his voice low and thick like melted caramel.

  Why would he want my name?

  He holds out his hand “I’m Ian Blake.” I put my hand in his. My hand is so small in his, his hand is warm and soft, he pulls it to his mouth and kisses it. A feeling of electricity shoots through my body and to my core, starting from where his soft warm lips touch my hand, surprising me. I pull my hand away. I think I’m melting. I feel a wet heat in my panties and a strange throbbing at my center. I have goosebumps all over my body. What is this? What is happening to me?

  I look up at him through my lashes “Parker Dane; my name is Parker Dane.” His smile grows large as his dimple deepens.

  “Well, hello, Parker Dane. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” he says with a broad smile. He leans down and whispers in into my ear his breath is warm and sweet, “Breathe, Parker Dane, breathe.” I close my eyes, realizing I am holding my breath. I inhale his scent. He smells so good. It’s his Gio cologne. I lick my bottom lip, then bite it nervously. I look back up at his face in a daze.

  He takes my lip with his thumb and forefinger, pulling it from my teeth. “That drives me wild, Parker Dane,” he says, with a crooked smile on his face. My eyes shoot up to look at him, shocked.

  “Can I take you to dinner tonight, Parker Dane?”

  “I don’t think that's a good idea,” I say.

  "When are you off?"

  I pull my phone from my pocket to see what time it is. "Five minutes ago," I say quietly.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” he inquires, throwing the questions at me as if they were being timed.

  “No.”

  "Good, because the third time we ran into each other you said you had to get back to your friend."

  “I had just moved here that week and my girlfriend came to visit for the weekend,” I reply.

  "So you're not into guys?"

  "Yes, I am," I say shyly.

  “Okay. Well, you’re not a nun are you?”

  I laugh. “No!”

  "You do eat, don't you?"

  "Yes, I do," I say, looking up at him.

  “Then why wouldn’t it be a good idea?” He tilts his head to the side, waiting for my answer. "You have to eat and so do I. Two birds, one stone...” A smile spreads across his face producing the dimple.

  “I don’t even know you,” I respond.

  "Well, isn’t that the point of going to dinner? I want to get to know you, Parker Dane.” He tilts his head to the side as if he is perplexed by my answer. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it.”

  “Feel what?” I lie. I look down, not wanting my eyes to give me away, as if I don’t know what he is talking about.

  He puts his finger under my chin, lifting it to look me in the eyes. “That,” he proclaims as the current shoots through my chin and tingles down my spine, giving renewed life to the goosebumps he had already given me. I can feel my panties getting wetter. What the hell!

  I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing. I feel his warm breath on my ear. “Say yes, Parker Dane. I want to know you.”

  Mutely, I nod my head yes, knowing I shouldn't. Although, as he said, there is something about him that is pulling me to him. I need to find out what it is. I can't deny the feelings that are being stirred up in me. It is only dinner, after all.

  I start to panic. I am out of my element; I've only been on one date and that was a disaster, let alone kissed a guy, what do I do if he tries to kiss me? Shit, I wish I could call Bridget. I try to pull myself together and think. If I start to feel uncomfortable, then I will just tell him I'm not feeling well and go home. Easy enough. I can do this. I know I can.

  Nice Catch

  Ian

  Dad has a new book coming out and has asked me to stop by the bookstore and look for the best location to set up the table for the signing. According to his publicist, there are going to be a lot of people coming to meet him. It is a large store and I know it can handle the amount of people for a signing. I walk through the store, looking at all the shelves. This place is massive.

  As I’m looking around, I see my girl on a ladder. Oh, shit, that can't be good. She has a big smile on her face, and I wonder what she is thinking about. I don’t want to scare her away again, so I need to approach her gently.

  “I think I’d like that book you have in your hand. From the expression on your face, it must be a good one,” I say quietly.

  I can tell that I’ve startled her, again. She squeals, loses her footing, and tries to grasp onto anything to keep from falling. Books go flying everywhere. As she comes down the hard way, her eyes are closed.

  As she is tumbling down, I prepare myself to catch her; it’ll hurt if she doesn’t hit my arms just right. Luckily, she makes a perfect landing.

  She slowly opens her eyes and I smile down at her. “So, is this how you get a man’s attention?” I say, chuckling.

  I hold her longer than I probably should, but I'm not letting her run from me today. A guy can only handle so much rejection, and I have had my share with her.

  I chuckle. It’s good she has a great sense of humor. God, she is beautiful. Even in jeans and a t-shirt. Today I am ready to run after her if she bolts. I think I broke her. She's not saying anything, and she keeps staring into my eyes.

  I slowly set her on her feet. Then she gets a smart ass look on her face and asks me if I'm following her... I think to myself, baby, if I were following you, I would be stalking you twenty-four seven. I wink at her, and I never wink, but it felt right and as if on cue, she's red again... Hot!

  Okay, let’s get this going, no more running. I have to know who she is, and why she affects me this way. I won't take no for an answer. I introduce myself to her as I hold out my hand, and she slowly puts her hand in mine. Her hand is so small and soft. I pull it to my mouth, kissing it. I feel a shocking sensation run through my body to my dick, starting from where my lips touch her hand, surprising me. She pulls her hand away. She feels it too. What the fuck! Why does she affect me so much?

  She looks up at me through her thick lashes. My smile grows large as she says her name. God, I think
I'm in love. I've never heard any woman with that name before. What an unusual name for a woman. I love it because she isn't a usual woman. Not that she isn't beautiful, because she is. But I sense an innocence about her as if she doesn't know she is beautiful or how she affects me. She makes me laugh without trying. And what was that silly question about me following her? I wish. I would be following her like a lost puppy. When I see her, I can't get her out of my mind. The last couple of weeks, she is all I have dreamt about; catching her, her touching me, the water she sprayed all over me, her smile and, God, her laugh. She has infiltrated my mind, and I can't concentrate. She's holding her breath again; at this rate she's going to pass out. I lean close to her ear and remind her to breathe. She smell of vanilla and a flower. She closes her eyes and takes a big breath, trying to regain her composure. God, she's biting that lip again. That's going to drive me insane.

  I ask her to dinner, knowing I won't take no for an answer. She tries to block me with reasons not to go, but I pop back with answers that she can't argue. As if the air around us shifts, I realize this isn't just a woman for another notch on the proverbial bed post. I want to get to know her. There is something here; I know she feels it too. She might be fighting it like I have, but it has me by the balls. I don't just need to know her, I have to know her. And I will do anything to make that happen.

  Chapter 8

  A Night to Remember

  Parker

  We walk to a small restaurant down at River Place. "I think you will like this restaurant; my parents say it's an amazing place," Ian says, as he places his hand in the small of my back, opening the restaurant door for me. "I like that the front of the restaurant faces the Willamette River, so we have a beautiful view of all the boats on display."

  The restaurant is small and intimate, only seating sixteen people, but the food and service are supposed to be excellent.

  "The owner does everything; he is the chef, host, waiter, and busboy," Ian explains.

  "Wow, that's really cool. He must be very organized to pull that off, especially if he has a busy night," I say, I can't believe how comfortable I feel around Ian.

  The owner comes out to greet and seat us. He talks to us for a few minutes, explaining how he serves his food in courses, and then he brings us our drinks. He has the restaurant decorated in shabby chic; antique thrift shop decor.

  "I love that everything has price tags, so if you found a treasure you can't live without, you can simply buy it," I say. "My mother had some things of my grandmother’s, and some of this reminds me of them."

  "I'd never been to a restaurant that sells their furnishings before, but it makes this place so unique from all the other restaurants. You never know from time to time what treasures you will find. My mother loves this place,” he says. "I never thought I would be into antiques, but there is something so distinctive about them. Maybe it's because some of them are one of a kind."

  I open my menu, looking at my options and start to laugh.

  "What’s so funny?" he asks.

  "Well, I'm sure we will talk about things we like and don't like, but one of the things at the top of my list of dislikes are Brussels sprouts. So, of course, guess what the only vegetable they offer is? Brussels sprouts." We both laugh. I am pretty scared to try them, the only other time I tried them they were really bad. I know I need to try them; at least how he makes them.

  Beau the owner arrives to take our order, and within a few minutes he brings us our first course.

  "I haven't had French onion soup in a long time," I say. "It's good, nice sweet onions, maybe Walla Walla's."

  "It is good. Do you cook?"

  "I cook a little. I like to experiment sometimes if I think I can change it up a little," I say.

  Then he brings out our Caesar salad, and it has large curls of parmesan cheese on the top. Ian and I are sitting side by side so we both can look out the window, he is sitting to my right and every time the door opens I get a hint of his cologne, it smells so good. "I love your cologne, Gio has always been my favorite."

  "Does your dad wear it?"

  "No, Hank doesn't wear any cologne."

  "Boyfriend, well ex?"

  "No, I haven't ever had a boyfriend."

  "Really? That surprises me. May I ask why?"

  "I just never had one, no one asked, besides I was pretty busy during school for boyfriends. When my mother and I would go shopping we would always stop by the cologne counter and smell the colognes and Gio was my favorite."

  "That's amazing, most people have never heard of it."

  Gnocchi in butter garlic sauce was our third course. "One thing about it, at least we'll both have garlic breath." I say as I giggle.

  Then comes our main course. "This looks wonderful," I say, my mouth is drooling. Chateaubriand with garlic potatoes and, of course, my lovely Brussels sprouts.

  "This looks wonderful," I say. I decide that it is better to start with the things I don't like and fork a Brussels sprout. I place it in my mouth, closing my eyes as if to identify the flavors. It is good.

  "So you liked them?" Ian asked.

  "Yes, I do. I am pleasantly surprised. It looks like he blanched them first to keep their bright color then sautéed them in a balsamic vinaigrette glaze with mushrooms and onions."

  "You sound like you do more than a little cooking."

  "I can hold my own. I enjoy cooking and trying new recipes," I say, smiling at him.

  "I like that the meal is served in courses," Ian states. "It takes a little longer to eat, but we can get to know each other better this way."

  We are enjoying our conversation and don't mind the timeframe. All the food is delicious.

  We talk about where we grew up, what we like doing in our free time, our likes and dislikes. And, of course, food.

  "What brought us downtown?" he asks.

  "I am going to go to Portland State. I don't have a car so I needed to live down here to go there."

  "Why not live in a dorm?"

  "They are too expensive, they are like really nice apartments and they cost double what I pay for my apartment. If I had student loans they would roll the dorm costs into them but I would end up owing so much more when I graduate. I am trying to pay as I go, I received a couple scholarships that help me and if I keep my GPA up I am hoping to get more, and I want to live down here year round. I just got my first real job at the book store and my apartment is close to everything I need to do."

  "So it's not the party life downtown has to offer that brought you down here?"

  "No, I've never been a party person. My education is what I'm down here for. I have seen too many lives wrecked by drinking. My achievements and accomplishments make me happier than drugs and alcohol."

  Ian never takes his eyes off me. He seems to genuinely listen to everything I say, as if he is absorbing all of me, memorizing everything. I thought most guys in their twenties were only into themselves. He's different from the guys in school. He seems to cares, but why? I'm a nobody, but I feel safe with him. I've never felt this comfortable around a man before. I like this feeling. I really like him.

  "What about family?," he asks. Everything was going so good until he asked that question. I got really quiet and didn't know what to say.

  "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he says.

  "No, it's fine. My mother died about five years ago; she was hit by a drunk driver," I say solemnly. "I have no brothers or sisters."

  "And your father…is he still alive?"

  I look down, feeling my eyes start to burn with the threat of tears. "I really don't want to talk about him." I blink until the tears go away. How long am I going to be this emotional, I have to get over that.

  "It’s okay," he says, with a wrinkled brow. He looks at me so differently, he seems to really care. He is holding my hand on the table running his thumb over the back of my hand, my heart is pounding and my stomach flutters. What an odd feeling, but I am so comfortable with him, that's what surprises
me most, I feel like I can trust him. He cares about my feelings. Wow! This is nothing like I felt with Ash. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I…"

  I cut him off. "I know you didn't. You wouldn't know that the subject of Hank, is one I try not to talk about," I reassure him.

  The last thing I want to talk about is Hank. Although I know if I want a relationship, I will have to tell him about Hank. It's too soon. I don't even know how Ian feels about me. Why poison it before it starts?

  "How about you? Tell me about your family," I ask, trying to change the subject.

  "Well, my parents are still married, going on their thirtieth year. My father is an author, and my mother is an interior designer. They have their offices in the house. Mom's is more of a showroom with all of her samples."

  "That sounds amazing. I would love to be able to have my own business in my home when and if I am blessed with children.”

  “It was great because it allowed both of them to stay home with us as we were growing up. Of course, we couldn't get away with not going to school like some of the kids I knew, but it was good nonetheless. It taught me responsibility and that school was important. They made their own schedule so if we had sporting events or school concerts, they could always work their schedule around ours so they could go. It taught me how important family is. We are very close. When I have a family, I want to do the same thing.”

  “Wow! That does sound great! Do you have siblings?” I question.

  “Yes, I have twin sisters, Ava and Ella; they are a several years younger than me," he says. "They’re funny; one will start a conversation and the other finishes it, and they do it all the time. Sometimes I feel dizzy just listening to them, but they are great."

  I can tell he loves his family a lot. His face lights up and his eyes sparkle when he talks about his sisters. "I envy you. I wish I had siblings," I say solemnly. "My mother had tried to have another child, but it was never meant to be. Did you know what your father did for a living when you were younger?" I ask, as I take another bite of my steak.