Fears and Scars (6 page)

M
emories are tricky
. We completely forget some parts of our past or even block them out, yet some moments are as clear as day in our minds.

I remember crying all the time when I found out my parents died. I didn’t want to leave my room or believe it was true. Making up stories in my head was my escape. I would lie in bed and imagine a parallel world where Mom and Dad were alive and everything was right. Those fantasies helped, but they also hurt like hell. Hence, the constant waterworks.

I also remember the horrified expression on David’s face when I screamed and beat the walls when it was too much, and how he didn’t know how to calm me and would ask his mom to stay with me.

He was nineteen. In some sense, he was just a kid, and I was a lot to take.

My memories are blank when I try to remember what he told me to make it better. I can’t recall a single word. What I know is that I was a wreck, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Even before the crash, when everything was normal, he never really knew how to handle me, and I guess that was my fault. I never completely opened up to David because I never felt like he would accept all the imperfect parts of me.

Everything is different with Ryan. I’m still the same disaster these days, maybe even more so, but he knows how to make it all better. He feels me. All the things that are wrong with the world are right when I’m in his arms.

From the moment we met, Ryan wanted to help ease my sorrows, to take away my grief. He’s glad I’m getting professional help, and he’s encouraging me to talk about my parents more. He even found a specialist to study the plane crash and explain all the technical difficulties down to the tiniest detail, so that I wouldn’t think the accident was the pilot’s fault.

Trying to piece me back together is not Ryan’s final goal, though. He does all that because he loves me and it’s hard for him to see me hurting. He loves me just the way I am, through my grief and though my pain.

So what the hell am I doing hurting him?

With trepidation, I put my key card into the slot of our suite.

Is he here? Maybe I should have checked Alex’s office or the hotel bar?

Ryan hasn’t tried to contact me, so I know he’s still angry with me. But I came here with one goal: to apologize. I made him feel insignificant today, and that’s unacceptable. He deserves to feel important because he is.

I open the door with a newfound confidence and make my way inside. My eyes find Ryan standing at the far end of the living room staring out the window, facing away from me. The sight of him gives me butterflies.

I stay silent, admire my fiancé’s strong profile, immediately noticing how flawlessly the denim of his designer jeans hugs his thighs and butt. His white shirt fits his tall, broad-shouldered body perfectly, as well.

Ryan exudes pure maleness—power and control—no matter what he’s wearing, but there’s so much more to him than his masculine beauty. What’s hiding underneath that perfect exterior is a million times better: his kindness, tenderness, selflessness, and goodness.

When he turns to look at me, all the air leaves my lungs. The desperate agony in his green eyes chokes me. The pure, unfiltered emotion etched across his features rips me apart.

In this moment, I fall in love with him even more for not hiding the pain he feels, for showing me this vulnerable side of himself. I know his instincts scream for him to mask his feelings, to make his expression void of anything, to keep a veil of armor between his expressions and the rest of the world, but he doesn’t because I’m not just anyone else to him, and he proves it to me with his actions.

My mind scrambles for words that will make things right between us. They’re right on the tip of my tongue; I had a whole speech prepared, but now I’ve got nothing except this overwhelming feeling to be close to Ryan, to feel the heat of his body and inhale his scent.

Our eyes lock for what feels like an eternity, and then his gaze lowers to the two duffle bags in my hands.

“I’m so sorry,” I start, but before I can apologize more, he turns away from me and keeps looking out the window. No matter how much I fancy his butt in those jeans, it hurts that he’s turning his back to me.

Should I apologize again or give him space?

I’m sure about one thing—every beat of my heart is for the man standing in front of me. He can be an ass all he wants, but I’m not going to let that ruin us. The truth is, I’m the one to blame that we started fighting in the first place, so I need to make it better.

I kick my shoes off right in the doorway, take off my coat and scarf, and lay them on the arm of the couch before making my way into our bedroom.

Ryan clearly isn’t ready for whatever I have to say. That means it’s time to unpack.

Yes. I decided to move my stuff in even though Ryan hasn’t pushed the topic since the truth about my adoption so abruptly came up; I know he wants it as much as I do.

Making my way through the bedroom and into the closet, I turn on the lights and look around. The space is ridiculously enormous. Who needs such a giant closet in a hotel? I’m not completely accustomed to the luxurious conveniences of Ryan’s wealth, but getting used to bigger and better things is always easier than the other way around.

The better part of my wardrobe is already here, on the opposite side of a neat row of Ryan’s suits, shirts, and other belongings. As I hang one of my blouses, I notice some new dresses have been added between the hangers with my old ones. It’s my fiancé’s sneaky way of gifting me things. Now is not the time to complain about his generosity, so I open my bag and unpack what I had left at Granny’s apartment.

I’m putting one of my sweaters on the shelf when I hear Ryan’s voice.

“What are you doing?” He’s standing in the bedroom doorway watching me.

“Unpacking the rest of my stuff. I brought it tonight from Nina’s.” I specifically choose the new name for Granny’s apartment.
Nina’s
. I hope she will be the only tenant living there starting right now. “Is that okay?”

When Ryan doesn’t answer and just stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head, I ask him, “Do you still want me to move in with you?”

A slight nod is all I get from him, but it’s more than enough.

“Then I guess, I’d better continue. I have another bag full of things. Some of your shirts and sweaters are in there also,” I say, pointing to the bag beside me. “You must have left them, and I didn’t want to leave anything behind. I mean, Nina may want to find a roommate.”

“You’re rambling,” Ryan states.

I turn and nod, not sure how to answer that.

He closes the space in three long strides. Demanding fingers drive into my hips, pulling me flush against his hard body.

“You’re nervous.”

His proximity makes me even more anxious. “Of course I am, Ryan,” I huff. “You don’t want to hear my apology, and I need to tell you so much, to explain everything.”

He cups my face, stroking his thumbs over my cheekbones as he states the obvious, “You want to move in? To live here with me?”

“I do.”

We stare at each other for a solid five seconds before I can’t take it anymore. He smells so good, and I want to kiss him so bad.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was wrong to—”

Ryan’s lips steal the rest of my words. He kisses me. Deeply. Desperately.

My hands drift up into his hair, and I pull the strands between my fingers.

“Tell me you were with Nina all this time,” he pleads, breathing hard.

I don’t waste a second to reassure him. “I was with Nina, and then I was alone. Packing.”

His tongue slides into my mouth again, taking control, stroking my mine greedily. The kiss is hard, claiming, and takes my breath away.

My hands push under his T-shirt and slide the fabric up his stomach, over his smooth, warm skin. He grunts into my mouth and kisses me deeper, making the ache inside me catch fire.

We break apart and gasp for air as Ryan nips and kisses along my throat.

“I thought you came to say good-bye. That you were packing,” he confesses against my skin.

I cling to him, afraid to let go. “God. No. Never, Ryan. Never. I’m so sorry. I love you so much,” I whisper, framing his face in my hands and trailing quick kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other.

“It’s okay. You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re more than enough to me. You’re everything. Everything I need and want. I’d never choose anyone over you, Ryan.”

I feel the tension melt away from his body at my words.

“I need you. Now.”

The heat of his voice causes goose bumps to break out on my skin. “I need you too.”

Ryan’s muscles ripple when he reaches one hand to his T-shirt and pulls it off in a single tug. His hands are all over me, tearing off my clothes, as his lips seek out every inch of my exposed skin.

Before I know it, I’m lost in lust and his lips. Ryan pushes me completely naked against the closet door. I watch as his palms find my breasts. A moan leaves my lips when he takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks hard while caressing and fondling the other breast.

Arousal dances through my body with such vigor that I can’t take it anymore. I need him inside me.

My tongue darts out to taste the powerful column of his throat as I find the buckle of his belt and have no difficulty freeing it. Before I can unbutton his jeans, he captures my wrists in his hand and pins them above my head.

With his other hand, he lifts my right leg against his hip and glides his palm up my inner thigh. I gasp when he slips a finger into my swollen core, and his thumb lightly presses on my clit. Applying pressure, he circles a few times. It feels so good.

He withdraws his finger. I utter a weak protest and sag against the wall.

Ryan doesn’t undress. He merely shoves his jeans down enough to free himself. Then he lifts me up, hands gripping my hips, and I eagerly wrap my legs around his waist.

As his lips meet mine once more, I can almost taste his hunger for me. His erection finds my entrance with unerring precision, and he pushes into me in one smooth motion. Hard, long, thick. My body is so primed with need; he fills me easily. I cry out from the sensation of being so full of him and hear his noises of satisfaction that escape his throat from being inside me.

He does it every time we’re together—lets me know what a relief it is for him to be finally connected to me in the most intimate way. It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world.

A look of ecstasy clouds Ryan’s eyes when he brings his gaze back up to mine. I watch him as he watches me. There’s so much longing in his green depths.

“I love you, Liz,” he says, his voice raspy and thick with arousal.

“I love you, Ryan.” As soon as he hears my reply, he starts to move, thrusting his hips.

My hands explore the planes of his back. God, I love how his solid muscles flex and bow under my fingertips. I also love the power of his body, the force with which he desperately drives in and out of me, and the sound of his rhythmic grunts, his hoarse, thick exhales as he fucks me hard … God, he drives me crazy.

A wave of impending bliss washes over me, and my head falls back against the wall as I come apart. My entire body tingles, all the way to my toes and my fingertips.

Ryan bites out an aroused curse. His face an inch from mine, he stares down into my eyes and says hoarsely, “Seeing you fall apart like that … fuck. You can’t even imagine how crazy I am for you.”

His admission makes my inner muscles clench around him, and before I can utter a word, he starts pounding us into the wall again, thrusting into me hard and fast.

“Mine. Only mine.” His words sound strained and muffled against my neck.

He pumps into me a few more times before he lets out a guttural cry of my name as his own climax moves through him.

His breath is hot on my neck as he slumps against me, his lips trailing along the skin under my ear. I smile and bury my face in his neck for a long moment. With his scent surrounding me, my legs wrapped around him, and his arms cradling me against him, it feels like we’re intertwined. I don’t want to move, ever.

As our breathing grows more controlled, Ryan slowly lowers me to my feet. The movement is unhurried as he gently slips out of me as if he doesn’t want to do it.

My legs feel limp when I try to stand. Seeing my unsteadiness, he wraps one solid arm around my waist, locking it there as he quickly rearranges his jeans with the other one.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, tenderness and love mixed with satisfaction in his gaze.

He lifts me up in his arms as if I weigh nothing, carries me over to our bed, lowers me down, and cradles me against his side.

As we regain our senses, my fingers trail up and down Ryan’s ribs in the same rhythm as his caress my back.

“I meant what I said. I’d never choose anyone over you, and your friendship’s enough for me. More than enough,” I reassure him. “If you ask, I’ll tell David to leave in a heartbeat—”

“I won’t ask, baby. If you need to talk to him …”

I hate the hurt I see in his eyes. I would be hurt too if I thought he’d rather talk with his ex than me.

“I don’t
need
him, Ryan. I … I feel guilty and obligated. I know I shouldn’t, and it sounds silly after what he did to me, but I feel like I somehow lead him on all these years. He had real feelings for me that I could never reciprocate. Plus, David was a good friend to me for many years and my dad and mom loved him like he was their son. I feel like I owe it to them to try to make the friendship work or at least to say a proper good-bye. I don’t want to dishonor their memory.”

Ryan is silent for a moment, and I search for more words to explain those lunches and the guilt I feel.

Before I can come up with something, he kisses the tip of my nose and gives me a small smile. “Okay. I still don’t like it and don’t completely get your reasons, but I respect your decision. I’m fine with it as long as he doesn’t touch a single hair on your body. If he makes a move, all bets are off.”