Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Ryan
It’s been a week since Fox was last with her and the ache is starting to diminish. I’m glad Ryan was there for Amber. We've been texting every night. I keep seeing new sides to her. She’s like a diamond that gets shinier with every edge.
Her words race through my head all day and night.
“I wish you could see that fear is holding you back from a future—and possibly happiness.” She’s right.
Fear has been the one emotion dominating my life.
I was afraid to move on from Harper, terrified to talk to Amber, too scared to have her meet Ryan, so instead I introduced her to Fox.
Hell, Bear was the one who asked her out.
And it’s fear that’s holding me back from living.
I read over the reports Dr. Hanversford gave to me over two years ago. The research is solid and verified. I watch videos about success stories.
The tan line around my finger has faded, and I think it’s time to start really thinking about my future. When I get to the office, I’ll call Dr Hanversford and schedule an appointment. Hopefully it won’t be around allergy season and my half doses of meds will be enough until my brain surgery.
With a renewed sense of peace and certainty, I pick up my phone and start typing her a message.
Me: It’s kind of weird feeling happy again.
Delete, that sounds too… truthful.
I retype and delete the message like five times before Bear comes over, reads it over my shoulder, and hits send. I’m about to punch the shit out of him when she texts back.
Amber: And what’s causing the sudden expression of joy in your life?
Me: You.
Amber sends me a picture of a handwritten note saying, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.”
Me: Am I not making it obvious?
She sends the picture again.
Amber: Sometimes a girl likes to know where she stands.
Me: Sure, I like you.
Liar … it’s so much more than ‘like’.
Me: Wanna come over tonight? I’ll cook.
Amber: I’ll bring something sweet … and dessert.
Bear reads the text over my shoulder as he walks around the kitchen making his protein smoothie. “I guess you want me out of the apartment?”
“I don’t care where you go or what you do. But yes. Leave.”
I bailed out of work early to clean and make sure the place isn't a total pigsty. Now there’s a knock at the door, and I check my hair in the reflection of a framed photo of the Smoky Mountains before opening it.
Fuck—she's stunning. Cute dress, tight around the chest and flaring out. She’s wearing cotton thigh-highs and boots that hit just below her knees.
Fox would want to pin her to a wall and fuck her brains out, but Ryan hasn’t earned that yet.
She lifts up a cake box and smiles. Her joy does as much for my cock as her dress. Damn. It’s going to be a long night.
Her phone rings and she flinches. Is she expecting a call from Fox? He’s not calling. She hands me the cake box and digs through her purse for her phone. She looks at the screen, frowns, slides it back in, and places her purse on the kitchen counter.
“Is everything all right?” I ask. I don’t like seeing her disappointed.
“I’ve been getting lots of spam calls. No big deal.” She bounces on her toes and kisses me on the cheek. “So what’s on the agenda? World domination?”
“Food and a movie.”
She claps and smiles at me. “Excellent. I’m not wearing the right shoes for a hostile takeover.”
We move to the couch and chat for a little while.
She likes the way the apartment is designed.
I tell her it’s mostly Bear’s stuff. We have a debate about whether to watch The Knights of the Night (the fantasy show everyone’s obsessed over) or a stupid action movie.
The action movie wins. Neither of us wants to think too much tonight.
Before the opening credits finish, her head is on my shoulder, and my arm is draped around her waist. The soft, steady pulse of her breath on my neck lulls me into a comfortable arousal.
My hand drops lower to her thigh as she scoots closer to me.
By the second explosion on the screen, her lips brush the tender skin of my neck, and I shiver.
“Keep that up and you’ll miss the plot,” I say, playing with the fabric of her dress.
In one quick motion, she throws her leg over my lap and straddles me.
“I figured out how it was going to end a while ago.” Amber gazes deep into my eyes like she’s looking at me for the first time.
I’ve stared into those lustful eyes enough to know exactly what she wants.
My hands start on her hips but crawl up her spine until my fingers thread through her hair. Her lips crash onto mine.
As Fox, I would have demanded complete control, but as Ryan, I fucking love that she's in charge. She grinds her body into my hardened cock, only a few layers of fabric keeping us apart.
There’s another car-chase scene and the screams on the TV make her tense in my arms. Does she not like scary movies? “Want to go someplace else?”
She nods and swings her legs off me. My eyes linger on the cake box, and for a second, I think I should feed her first. Her head turns and follows my gaze.
“We’ll eat dessert later,” she purrs and stands in front of me. “There's something I want now.”
I swallow. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be your fuckbuddy.”
She flinches like I’ve hurt her. “You’re nothing like him.
” Nope. She’s wrong about that. But she leans forward and brushes her lips against my ear.
“You’re better.” Then she pulls away and gives me a little side smirk.
“Or at least I’m really hoping you are. But I’m willing to give this a test drive if you are. ”
“I’m happy to oblige,” I say and lead her to my bedroom.
There’s a moment where I pause because there’s something so familiar about her standing there—that needy look in her eye as she starts to undress—but this time it’s more exciting.
I’ve touched her so many times, but now Amber stands before me, her hands on the hem of my shirt, helping me pull it over my head.
It all feels new. Her fingers stroke my bare chest and everything feels like it’s on the edge of perfection and overstimulation.
It’s the warmth and tenderness of her touch without a barrier, a rawness that feels almost too much.
My shirt and her dress end up in a pile on the floor.
Layers of fabric are shed like a snake shedding its skin.
She pulls down my pants, freeing my cock, and starts sucking me.
She pauses with one long lick, a tease, but there’s no hesitation, no self-doubt.
“I want to make you feel good,” she says around a moan as she returns to her actions.
I resist the urge to run my fingers through her hair and guide her.
She doesn’t need my help, and I love surrendering myself to her.
I groan and tell her she’s amazing, because she is.
There’s a second where the words sound strange coming out of my mouth—using my natural voice.
I give her a warning to stop before it goes too far.
But she doesn’t listen. My groans push her on.
My body quakes as she makes my knees go weak and I finish.
She stands with a triumphant smile. “I’m glad this is real.” It’s not a confession, but an admission. She doesn’t want something imaginary. She wants reality, not a fantasy.
Fuck. I’m done. I can’t fight her if I tried.
I drop to my knees, slide off her panties, part her thighs, and lick her until she’s riding my face. Her nails run through my hair, holding me exactly where she wants me until she cries out and shakes.
Who was I kidding? She has always been in control. From the moment she stayed at the club when I gave her the chance to leave, to finding me outside during my panic attack. I am hers. Pangs of survivor’s guilt and the grief of the love I once had diminishes the moment, but not enough to ruin it.
I push her on the bed, and she laughs as she bounces, before returning to my rightful place with my head between her legs.
She cries out that she’s close. I don’t need the verbal cue—I know, and I’m not stopping until she’s finished.
She comes, and I crawl up her body and collapse on her chest as we sync our breathing.
Skin to skin, her sweat and mine mingling. She pants as I kiss her forehead.
“You’re such a go—” I start to say, but catch myself.
She’s still for a second as her body tenses. “I’m a go?”
“Um, go-getter. I love the enthusiasm,” I say, and she laughs. I never thought I’d be this happy again. After dinner, I’ll tell her everything—the surgery, how she makes me feel, and if she’s ready to hear it, I might tell her about Fox… We’ll see. Baby steps.