27. Alice
Alice
I’m. Touching. Ryder.
And it’s amazing.
He lets go, leaving me on my own with his most private part, and braces his hand on the wall behind my head. His eyes are shut, and his hips have started to move along with my hand. It’s sexy, erotic; I feel like I’m someone else right now.
And as for him, he’s so male. That’s the only way I know how to describe him.
Tall, layers and layers of muscles, golden skin kissed by the sun.
He has that “V” that definitely points to somewhere great.
He has thick thighs and giant hands and feet.
Sure, he’s an athlete, but so are tennis players and runners, and he looks nothing like them. Pure testosterone.
“Widen your stance,” he says without looking at me, and I immediately comply.
His free hand travels with the water. It runs over my body and then up between my legs. His fingers explore in a way that has never been done, and then gently, he pushes one finger inside and then drags it back out. It feels unfamiliar, but very, very welcome.
He lets out a pained sound. “You are so warm and so tight.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I look up at him as he looks down at me.
“No, but we have to stop this here”—he pulls his hips back and I release him—“or it’ll all be over before we’ve even started.”
“We haven’t started?”
He reaches around me for the conditioner. Quickly, he drops some into his hands, and then runs it through my hair.
“We have.” He leans forward so his lips brush my ear. “But I’m not going to be satisfied until first I’ve run my tongue over your entire body, and then I’ll sink so far deep into you that I’ve found my new home.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, and then snaps out of whatever trance he’s in and pushes me back under the water to rinse off.
Shutting off the water, he grabs two towels, wraps me up first, and then very quickly dries himself off.
He pulls a brush from a drawer, stands behind me, and gently runs it through my hair.
In the mirror, I’m watching him, and he’s watching me.
When he’s done, he braids my hair like he used to, once upon a time.
His fingers brush against my skin, and every part of me tingles in anticipation.
He sets the brush down, pushes the towel off, and slides his hands over the dip in my waist.
“Good?” His voice is rough, and I like it this way. I’m doing this to him, and it makes me feel confident in ways that I haven’t always.
“Good,” I tell him, never breaking his stare.
He turns off the bathroom light as he leads me into his bedroom. It’s dark, but not completely, and he points at the middle of the bed. His very large and comfortable-looking bed. Outside, the wind is blowing, and branches from the various trees scrape the house. It’s eerie. It’s sublime.
Climbing on, I lie where he wants me. He moves to the foot of the bed and joins me, stopping in the middle.
Taking one of my feet, he massages it. His thumbs press into the arch as he bends my knee so my foot is flat on the bed.
He works his way up to my calf, and then he repeats the motions on my other leg.
I know he intends to relax me, but how can I relax when he’s touching me?
And it doesn’t feel like he’s just touching my legs.
It feels like he’s touching me everywhere.
Scooting closer, his hands travel to my knees, where he slowly pushes them apart. I felt naked in the bathroom with him, but this takes things to a whole new level, one I am very ready for. I watch as he takes one finger and draws it through my center.
“So fucking perfect.”
His heated eyes drag up my body until they find mine.
He twists his hand and then slips that finger inside me while his thumb presses down on the outside.
My breath catches. Next, he slips a second finger in me and proceeds to move them in a way that has my eyes rolling back in my head.
Then, without warning, I feel the heat of his mouth as it wraps around me too.
“Ryder.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
And he does.
Magic. He has to be using some sort of magic to instill these feelings inside me.
I don’t even know how to describe it, except to say that it feels extraordinary.
His tongue, his lips, the slight rough edge around his mouth from today’s stubble, his fingers, the wetness, all of it, and then he does the thing that sends me over the edge: he reaches for himself, and I become completely enraptured.
My toes curl, my back arches, and there’s no way I can stop the sound that comes out of me.
I feel like I’ve been electrocuted with fairy dust.
“Al,” Ryder mumbles against my hip bone as he shifts his weight and climbs over me. “I want to do that over and over again. You drive me wild.”
He kisses my belly button, drags his tongue up between my breasts, and then sucks on my collarbone.
My hands are in his hair, and my feet wrap around his calves as he settles on top of me.
He’s heavy, and I love it. I love it so much I tug to bring his mouth to mine, and his forearms bracket my head.
“Birth control?” he asks, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.
“Yes,” I tell him, suddenly feeling super emotional.
You know how you hear those stories when people cry after sex?
I feel like I’m about to cry, and we haven’t even done it yet.
I think I’m in this post-orgasmic lull as the endorphins, which were just racing through my body, have calmed down, and it’s left me feeling incredibly vulnerable.
I know I shouldn’t feel vulnerable. I should feel safe with him, and don’t get me wrong, I do.
It’s my poor heart. I am in love with him.
This moment is far better than anything I ever dreamed of, but what if this experience isn’t the same for him?
“Hey, what’s this face for?” He runs his fingers over my eyebrows to smooth them out.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know. Just nervous,” I whisper. How do I explain what is going on in my head right now? Doing this with him feels monumental, and I want it to feel that way for him too.
He pulls back to prop up on one elbow, and I open my eyes to find him looking down at me, concerned. “Am I making you nervous? We don’t have to do this.”
His hair is all over the place after the shower, and his lips are swollen from all their activity. He’s so handsome and imperfectly perfect that my heart clenches hard. I don’t want him to think for one second that he’s doing anything wrong.
“That’s not it. I’m just having a moment where I got worried.”
“About?” He’s studying me, looking for any tell that might give me away past the words coming out of my mouth.
“You,” I say softly.
“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to give me more than that.” He runs his free hand over my arm, my waist, and under my butt. It’s like he can’t stop touching me, and he doesn’t want to.
“Like, is this really happening between us? Does this mean to you what it does to me, or is this something that you need for closure?” My eyes prick.
I hate that I’m ruining this moment. It’s exactly reminiscent of four and a half years ago, but I have to ask the questions. I have to know where he stands.
“Alice.”
“Listen, I can’t get hurt again. You don’t know how bad it was for me last time.” My heart rate picks up.
His gaze runs affectionately over my face as he takes both of my hands, pulls them over my head, and laces our fingers together.
“You’re right. I don’t know. I will forever be sorry for that time we lost together, and I’m hoping one day you’ll tell me.
But this isn’t closure for me. It’s just the beginning.
I know my leaving before did damage. And I know that this might take time before that uncertain part in you goes away, but I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.
No more assumptions. We will always talk things through.
Just like now. I promise you. We’re in this together.
There is no me without you. I love you more than anything. ”
His words are a cool balm that settles my soul.
I exhale all nervousness hearing him say we’re in this together.
It means something to me that he’s owning his part in making me feel this way.
He acknowledged, apologized, and said exactly what I needed to hear.
I also love that he said he’ll always talk things through.
That’s me. That’s who I am. That insecure devil who took up residence on my shoulder, Cupid smirks as he shoots him off with his arrow.
I do believe him, and knowing that he loves me, me, it’s the greatest feeling ever.
“More than football?” I try to keep a serious face, but I can’t, and a smile breaks free.
“Such a smart-ass. But yes, way more than football. That’s the thing I do, at least for now. You, on the other hand, are mine forever.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want to do me too?” I tease.
“Oh, I want to do you more than anything I’ve ever done in my life.”
I pause, and with his eyes locked on mine, I tell him, “I love you, too.”
His face transforms to one of complete awe and tenderness. By now, he’s told me several times that he loves me, but I’d yet to say it back. I shouldn’t have waited. He deserves to hear it and be loved too.
“Say it again.”
Shifting my hips, I wrap my legs around his waist and feel us line up perfectly as the tip of him settles just inside me. “I love you.”
“Al, you are my dream come true,” he whispers, as he rocks his hips forward, back, and then forward again to push us completely together, while he seals his mouth over mine.
I wouldn’t say this hurts, but I definitely feel very full. So full, I’m not sure how he’s not all the way in my stomach, but his tongue distracts me as I adjust to his size. He kisses me slowly, sensually, like he’s making love to me. Which, I guess, he is.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
And then he pulls back, pushes in again, and doesn’t stop.
“You feel good,” he mutters against my lips as his mouth works in sync with his hips. I feel completely connected and consumed by him. “I could live in here.”
“Okay. Deal.”
Obviously, I know what sex is. I’ve had to listen to my friends all talk about it for years, but they never talked about how devastating it is.
Devastating, but in a good way. I’m mind blown, transformed, and emotionally annihilated by this form of intimacy.
The very act of him being inside me, us being so intimate, I’m going to become obsessed with this feeling.
Obsessed in the best way. I love that from now on I get to do this with him and no one else. This will always be ours.
“I love you,” I whisper again.
“I love you, too.”
He releases my hands and slides his under me. He tilts my hips, angles me where he wants me, and I wrap my arms around him to hold on tight. I never want to let him go.
What were we thinking fighting with each other for months? We could have been doing this instead, which is infinitely better.
No, better isn’t even the right word.
This is special, marvelous, soul-shifting, and I allow myself to completely drown in the wonderful sensations. After all we’ve been through, how could I not? It’s with ease I finally give my whole self to him, knowing he’s doing the same for me.